A man from Kabul

A FRIEND, sent by his newspaper to cover events in Afghanistan, returned with a startling piece of news. The regime that had put yellow stars on the infidels and ordered the destruction of the Bamiyan Buddhas was sympathetically inclined towards the game of cricket. After due deliberation, the Taliban's Mullah Omar had decreed that, unlike athletics, football or swimming, playing cricket did not require any part of the body to be revealed to the public. It was thus deemed safe for men as well as women. My friend's host even offered to take him to see the Afghan national team practice, but unfortunately the trip had to be cancelled when the Taliban's enemies launched a fresh attack on Kabul. He thus did not actually see the Afghan cricketers but, returning through Pakistan, he was told that they had been in Peshawar not long before, playing a match against the North-West Frontier Province.

I was recently provided further confirmation of this novel Taliban initiative by that very knowledgable person, Raj Singh Dungarpur. Mr. Dungarpur told me that the Afghans had formally applied for membership of the International Cricket Council (ICC). The ICC had passed on the application to the appropriate regional body, the Asian Cricket Council (ACC). There the matter rested - to be decided in the ACC's next meeting.

I hope the application is granted, for the Afghans do have something of a cricketing history. I recall reading of an Afridi Pathan named Ahsan-ul-Haq who, at the turn of the century, went to the United Kingdom to study and ended up playing cricket for W.G. Grace's own team, London County. I suppose the Afridi who now belts sixes and bowls brisk leg-breaks for Pakistan must be of Afghan stock. So, perhaps, are the sundry Khans who have turned out for Pakistan, including the greatest of them all, Imran Khan Niazi.

There has even been a Test cricketer born in Kabul. His father was named Abdul Aziz and was an international player himself, turning out for undivided India in two "unofficial" Tests against Jack Ryder's visiting Australians in 1935. Aziz was a fine wicket-keeper and a useful batsman. From his native land, he had come down the Khyber to the Punjab to play cricket. News of his skills travelled down the sub-continent, reaching the town of Jamnagar, then the capital of the princely state of Nawanagar. The great Ranji had lately died, but his successor as Jam Saheb wished to build a strong team for the Ranji Trophy. Among his early recruits were those superb fast bowlers, Amar Singh, Mubarak Ali and Shute Bannerjee. When word reached the new Jam that this Afghan wicket-keeper stood up to the speediest thunderbolts, he offered him a job as well. Aziz stayed for a decade and, in 1937-38, played his part in Nawanagar winning the Ranji Trophy. Since another member of that side was Vinoo Mankad, one supposes the Afghan knew how to keep to spin bowling too.

After Partition, Abdul Aziz chose to move to Karachi, where he made a living as a cricket coach (one of his wards was the young Hanif Mohammed). His wife and son, however, stayed on in Jamnagar. We can now reveal the lad's name: Salim Aziz Durrani. He was, to begin with, a strokeful left-hand batsman. Where his father had moved south to make his name, the son travelled north - to Rajasthan - whose Ranji Trophy captain, the Maharana of Udaipur, offered him a contract. Also playing for Rajasthan at the time was Vinoo Mankad. The side then lacked a stumper; Mankad thought the youngster might be made to do the job, since he was Aziz's son.

Thus in 1958-59 we find Salim Durrani playing for Central Zone against the visiting West Indies side, as a wicket-keeper- batsman. He made 80, showing where his real talents lay. But keeping to Vinoo Mankad had now inspired him to take up spin bowling. By 1961-62, he was good enough to play for India as a bowling all-rounder, and take crucial wickets in our series win against England.

(Immediately afterwards, Durrani was given the Arjuna Award, the first cricketer to be so honoured.) Ten years later, Durrani accoccounted for the deadly duo of Gary Sobers and Clive Lloyd in the Port of Spain Test where India defeated the West Indies for the first time.

As a bowler, Durrani had a high, classical action, sharp turn, and a wicked armer. As a batsman, he mixed elegance with power; like Saurav Ganguly, he could caress the ball past point or brutally hoick it over mid-wicket. His only Test century was made at Port of Spain during an earlier tour (1962). He was down to bat at number nine, but hijacked the batting to come in at the fall of the first wicket. In three hours of inspired batsmanship, he flayed Hall, Sobers and Gibbs to all parts of the Queens Park Oval.

Madras cricket lovers will remember Durrani's part in the Chepauk Test against England in January 1973. He scored 38 in each innings, helping his side to squeak through to a narrow win. By now, Durrani was playing solely as a batsman. However, when India were in the field and Bishan Bedi went off to attend to an injury, Ajit Wadekar tossed Durrani the ball, gesturing that he wanted him to bowl. The proud Afghan threw the cherry right back, saying, "I am not a change bowler."

Durrani was one of the most charismatic of cricketers, his colossal gifts enhanced by a regal bearing. He was handsome enough to act as a hero in a Hindi film "Charitra", (alas a flop). But he was impatient of authority, a prime reason why he played for India less often than he should have. His own abiding regret was that he never got to make a tour of England, although the Indian team visited that country thrice during his playing career. He now lives in Bombay, without a job, kept going by his old fans and friends.

It is a fanciful thought, but let me offer it nevertheless - would it not be nice if this man from Kabul was offered an assignment in his place of birth? He would be a splendid coach and mentor to the Afghan cricket team: a cricketer of quality and experience who knows all aspects of the game, even wicket- keeping. Who knows, he might even take the Afghans one day to Lord's.

P.S. The only "Afghan" now playing Test cricket is Mark Waugh, known by that name because he is supposed to be "the forgotten Waugh".

The writer is the editor of The Picador Book of Cricket.

RAMACHANDRA GUHA

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