A toching story indeed. In his first series against England, he was bowling well-directed bouncers at will (on Indian wickets) and troubling all English batsmen… I had thought that finally India had got what it had been looking for…but since then his performance and fitness have been sketchy at best. But the man has raw talent - too bad his social roots haven’t helped his cause.
When India were playing the Test Series against Engliand a couple of months ago (without Munaf), an English county reportedly sought help from the Indian team players to get the contact details of Munaf Patel - they were interested in hiring him. Believe it or not - none of the players in the Indian team knew about the whereabouts of Munaf Patel…not a phone number where he could be reached. For most of the team - Munaf Patel apparently is an out-of-place Village simpleton.
Deconstucting Munaf
“Ikhar?” “Woh toh Munaf Patel ka gaon hai.” (It is Munaf Patel’s village). My autorickshawala Ajay remarks on this fact while striking a deal to take me from Bharuch to Ikhar and back in one day. “You are not the first one,” he adds. “Once Yusuf Pathan (Irfan’s brother) hired my rickshaw to Ikhar. He went to meet Munaf.”
Well, I guess, it is a good way to start my visit, to travel in the rickshaw graced by Yusuf.
Ikhar is about 30 minutes drive from Bharuch. The first impression is that it is smaller and more isolated than I expected. Almost like it is frozen in time.
And it being the month of Ramzan when I travelled last fortnight, most of the villagers - predominantly Muslim - are asleep. They are fasting and are tired after getting up at 3am to pray.
The streets are deserted but I approach a couple of elderly villagers sitting near a paan shop and ask for Haroon Handi, the captain under whom Munaf started playing cricket. They point to a nearby house.
I get down from the rickshaw, walk up to it and knock. My endeavor to discover Munaf Patel, the person, had begun.
Munaf on fire
Just a day before I went to Ikhar, Munaf had bowled with fire in the second innings of the Irani Trophy game in Rajkot. He had picked up five wickets, leading the Rest of India to a win over Ranji champions Mumbai.
In the first innings, however, he was not a patch on himself. He bowled insipidly. He picked up arguments with the fielders when he thought they could have been faster. He looked a harmless medium pacer at best.
And then suddenly, he came back a different man. He began bowling aggressively. He glared at the batsmen, even got talking with them. I don’t think he was asking after their health. He got them out.
And after the win, he refused to speak to the media. He stayed put inside the dressing room, refusing to even come out. Just three days before that, he had told a national television channel about how he was unjustly left out of the T20 World Championship and the series against Australia.
There was something going on in Munaf’s mind. Was he always like this? I was asked to find out. So here I was, in Ikhar, to try and meet people who would know Munaf better.
And Haroon Handi was the first I wanted to meet.
The Bunker
Haroon, captain of the Golden Cricket Club, is not home. “He is in the bunker,” says a youngster from the neighbourhood.
Bunker is what they call Haroon’s ancestral house. Now, nobody stays there but the captain and his friends, including Munaf, hang out here watching TV or talking shop.
I had to climb creaky wooden stair to enter a room with a low roof. Munaf is 6 feet 4 inches tall. He has to be crouching when he’s here.
Haroon, strapping and strikingly handsome at 31, is woken up. He doesn’t seem to mind. “Munaf was my younger brother’s friend,” he begins. “One day, my brother brought him to me and told me that he could bowl. I saw him bowl and knew he was talented. Even at 16, he could bowl fast.”
There’s a pause here. “But his father would not let him join the team. The family was impoverished and he wanted Munaf to take up farming instead. It took a lot of convincing to make him understand.”
Munaf, the man
“Munaf was very aggressive on the field,” says Haroon. “He did not like being hit for runs and would shout at fielders if they dropped a catch.” That sounds familiar. “But he would be the first person to apologise later,” Haroon adds.
Haroon is somebody Munaf looked up to. He says Munaf used to take things too casually and so, he would shout at him to make him obey.
“Once, he was selected for the district team after attending trials for only 10 days. We were to play Kheda the next day and supposed to leave for there by 2pm. Munaf suddenly went missing. An hour’s search later, he was found hiding in the fields, clutching his cricket kit. His father had asked him not to play.”
“He was scared I would shout at him. I asked him to play just one match and then take a call.” Munaf took seven wickets against Kheda. His father agreed to let him play.
Munaf off the field, says Haroon, is a different man. He is fun loving and uncomplaining. “During his first match for my club, I suddenly asked him to bat at No.3. He smashed 56. But whenever the ball was bowled on his body he would try to get away. I forgot to wear the abdomen guard,” he told me later.
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