“Open” by Andre Agassi and “Farewell To Cricket” by Donald Bradman are two autobiographies worth a 50th read. They reflect honest introspection and self-criticism, traits most uncommon among sportspersons. None can hurt if you can laugh at yourself. Sanjay Manjrekar does precisely that in “Imperfect”, his story, in his words, most honest, so refreshing, and so lucidly written.
Sanjay, for most part of his career, lived under the shadows of his father, Vijay. Acknowledged as a perfect batsman, he personified flawless technique. Critics expected Sanjay to be no less. I once asked Mansur Ali Khan Pataudi who was technically more accomplished – Sunil Gavaskar or Sachin….“Vijay Manjrekar”, Pataudi did not even allow me to finish the question.
Bradman’s son, John, changed his name to Bradsen, to avoid the public gaze and expectations, before reclaiming the family surname. Gavaskar’s son Rohan did not escape the pressure of expectations either. In this book, Sanjay, attempts to break out of his father’s shadow to claim his own space in the world of cricket. To be known as Sanjay and not just Vijay Manjrekar’s son propelled him to chase his own dreams. And ultimately live them too.
“Imperfect” is perfect as Sanjay reads the game astutely, picks joyful and painful moments from his cricket life with amazing memory, and takes you on a racy journey, quite contrary to his batting style where he believed in grinding the attack. Not that he was a boring figure at the crease. He took 82 balls to get an ODI century against South Africa at the Nehru Stadium in Delhi in 1991. Clive Lloyd took precisely the same number of deliveries to reach his century in the 1975 World Cup final at Lord’s.
“The reason to pen this book,” reveals Sanjay, “was to chronicle some facts for the coming generation. To tell them this is what happened, this is how a cricketer’s life was. I am slightly lazy and didn’t want to do too many things but then all of us have an obligation to share our experience honestly.” His commitment to cricket is revealed at the end of the chapter on the Mumbai School of Batting when he writes, “I missed my elder sister’s wedding, because there was an important Under-19 match outside Mumbai on that day.”
Sanjay is a private person. You won’t find him doing media interviews. But he needs little provocation to engage himself in a cricket conversation and debate. He loves to make his point forcefully. He also concedes one gracefully. Having known him for close to three decades now, it is hardly surprising to hold a book written by Sanjay in a daring style. There are many aspects his life that he unfolds in public. You need courage to do that. Sanjay can do that for he played his cricket with a gutsy approach. His view on religion is candid too. “Religion has no place in my life. I feel it’s an outdated concept.”
Mama’s boy
Never an opening batsman, he begins well with the chapter on his father, who died at 52. It sets the tempo for the book and the journey intensifies as Sanjay discusses the game, his teammates, the commentary stint, glory in the Caribbean. In a poignant recollection, Sanjay says, “My father and mother (Rekha) were extremely opposites. He was street smart, spoke the language of the street and was known for risqué humour. My mother was a simple south-Indian woman who wore sari to work. She was always well-groomed, not to look pretty but to look neat and clean. Not once did she utter a cuss word. Perhaps that’s what my father liked about her: she was different.”
The chapter, `My Father’, is the one close to his heart because Sanjay writes so fondly about his mother. “I love the part where I am talking about my mother, very close to my heart. I had difficulty writing it. I was very emotional. I don’t think I will ever read it again. She was a simple lady and was happy with whatever she got,” he avers. He writes in the book, “Despite all her travails, I think she liked being the wife of the famous Vijay Manjrekar and then the mother of another Test cricketer. She enjoyed the attention she received.” Wife Madhavi and children, Devika and Siddharth, compete Sanjay’s family.
Sanjay, who is unsparingly self-critical, does not take the cheap route of naming and shaming individuals to sell his book. “I’ve been very responsible. I have not said who did it. I have written this happened. I shouldn’t live a lie. The easiest way to sell the book would have been to mention names. Private conversations shouldn’t be used for publicity,” he insists. He talks of captaincy flaws of Mohammad Azharuddin but highlights his great quality of indulging in charity. His unabashed praise for Pakistan great Imran Khan and some superbly narrated anecdotes make “Imperfect” a lively read. The chapter Team-Mates is a gem as he lauds Manoj Prabhakar and Kiran More for their brand of cricket.
Eye for detail
The reader would love the details that Sanjay brings about the game and things like the playing gear. “The clanky, metallic, rhythmic sound of the spiked boots on the hard floor were music to my ears. The other thing about cricket that I first fell in love with was the flap of the pad above the knee roll, how it would go back and forth when a batsman walked in,” he writes. At another time, he proudly recounts the Gray-Nicolls bat brought for him by Gavaskar on his father’s request. “He (Gavaskar) was my cricket idol, the man I worshipped and often copied in my batting,” Sanjay documents his gratitude. His visits to newspapers offices with a passport photo for publication, courtesy Vijay Gaundalkar, and stories of close friends, Sanjay Pednekar and Ashish Parulekar are quite touching too.
“I am immensely grateful to Mumbai cricket for its love and support. After I lost my father at eighteen, it was Mumbai cricket that became my guardian, as I set out to achieve my dream of becoming a Test cricketer,” writes Sanjay. It sums up his character. As does the description of the episode when umpire V. N. Kulkarni sent him off for a session in a Ranji Trophy match at Solapur for continued dissent. “I had unloaded all my toxins for the moment on poor Kulkarni but ended up respecting him for doing the right thing. I deserved to be sent off the field. It was not right of me to behave like that just because I had played for India,” Sanjay writes. Not many would make such a confession.
“The book has been a fulfilling experience. I had no idea how it would be received but it is truthful, interesting and a guiding experience for the coming generation. I am happy with the response because it was my way of letting things known, of communicating with my fans. I am happy that my simplicity in writing is being appreciated.”
Published by Harper Sport, the book may be the first of more to come from the 52-year-old Sanjay. “I have got used to writing and it was not an agonising experience. It was a big burden but I did not want to ramble or unload myself on people,” says Sanjay, who has also cut two discs – Rest Day , his tribute to Kishore Kumar, Mohammad Rafi and Mukesh, and Amar Bela Je Jaye , a collection of Rabindra Sangeet.
Sachin Tendulkar would tease Sanjay, “Mr. Perfect and Mr. Different.” The master was not off the mark. “Trying to be perfect is my imperfection,” says Sanjay, not always perfect but always different.
