Jai, my brother

A stylish cricketer and a fine human being is how M. L. Jaisimha will be remembered by Hyderabadis and his fans in the country. On his second death anniversary (July 7), his younger sister Indira Lingam recollected fond memories of her famous brother in a conversation with A. JOSEPH ANTONY in Hyderabad.

"Call me Anna. Then you can play with us," Jai would tell Indu. He had an incentive for her too. "I'll give you chocolates," he assured her.

Childhood in the sprawling 10-bed room mansion, Lakshmi Vihar in West Marredpally (with a separate wing for the paternal grandparents, who were orthodox Brahmins) was indeed a happy one. Big brother Pratap and big sister Usha she addressed as `Anna' and `Akka,' since they were much older. The smaller age gap that separated Jai from Indu, saw them spar now and then, with Jai pulling her pony tails and bullying her endlessly.

It was a large household, compared by a beneficiary to a huge tree, that provided shelter to several aunts, uncles, cousins and other relatives. There was even an in-house tailor. A fleet of eight cars among which a Sunbeam and a Buick adorned the driveway.

`Daddy' Motganahalli Laxminarasu (MGL), was famous for his `at homes.' Distributor for Westinghouse in India, sole contractor for electrification of Secunderabad Cantonment during the Second World War and builder of the Hyderabad airport, MGL's parties found even the drivers having scotch. Guests included the Maharaja of Mysore, Dr. Sarvapalli Radhakrishnan, Sarojini Naidu and Sanjeeva Reddy and almost every dignitary who visited Hyderabad.

Despite an aristocratic upbringing, Jai in later years could relate to Prime Ministers as well as he could to groundsmen at cricket venues. `Mummy' Savitri was endlessly worried about his studies, which was neglected on account of his obsession with sports.

When MGL contemplated sending Jai to Doon School, he sought the opinion of the family members. His mother opposed the move as much as Indu did. Ever mama's boy, the sternest she could get was

to banish him to the room's corner where he was to stand with a finger to his lip or sit on the soiled clothes cupboard. Even this broke Indu's heart, who lay sprawled on the floor, crying at `Anna's plight.'

As a 12-year old, Jai tried to start the swank Sunbeam car in the garage. Scared out of his wits, he started crying for his mother. Only his voice could be heard, for he could not be seen. His Man Friday turned out to be Pappu, the paunchy but loyal driver. Jai was spotted crouching behind the steering wheel, not nearly as tall though.

Jai's earliest memory of Indu was as a new-born baby, brought home in a car. Their mother told Jai that he had a baby sister. Taking a long look, he opined that she was a `pretty bundle.' Mummy would run after these two, insistent that each have a tall glass of milk before going to bed, even after they were married.

A junior National tennis finalist against Davis Cupper S.P. Misra, he chose cricket on the advice of the late Ghouse Mohammed and former Indian captain Ghulam Ahmed. Equally adept was he at badminton, giving national champion Nandu Natekar a tough time, during the latter's visit to Hyderabad. His record for the longest drive at the Army Golf Course, stood for decades.

His myriad girlfriends found him dark and handsome, but his mother was not willing to accept his complexion. "He has become tanned from playing in the sun," she would say. The fan mail kept coming in by the pile and his cousin Maya would read out the letters to him.

When a letter was particularly flattering, Jai would ask her to read it out again, while he stood preening himself before the mirror, applying many coats of Brylcreem to his stylishly cut hair. Jai fashioned his walk on Hollywood star Robert Mitchum. Others to tease him sang Dean Martin's `Sway,' making fun of his gait, typical of the swinging sixties.

The gang of kids comprising Jai, Indu, Mohan Ganesh, C.L.K. Rao, Sreeramuloo (S.R.), Yuveraj, Ali Mohammed, cousins Maya and Devdas, late Sharat Sil (Pinky) and Lingam (later to teach Rajiv Gandhi flying and marry Indu), calling themselves the New Club Loons, hung around New Club, of which MGL was the founding father.

The group however dreaded Pratap, too strict for this lazy lot and such a disciplinarian. Unlike the `bekaar,' or idle band, Pratap was a workaholic, making a mark for himself and heading for the US in the 50s itself.

The family had beautiful moonlit dinners on the terrace, amidst the jasmine flowers of Lakshmi Vihar. The children were fed by Mummy's own hands. Jai was very fond of `aamras and puri,' `bisi bele hulli (sambar rice) and curd rice.

When Bill Haley's Rock around the clock was playing at Tivoli cinema, the gang went on stage during the interval and danced to "Giddiap ding dong," and "See you later, alligator." It was music of another kind when Jai got back home: Laxminarasu's son cannot just behave like a loafer, the elders thundered.

Jai's taste for music ranged from Frank Sinatra to the Calypso of Harry Belafonte and jazz performers such as Louis Armstrong and Ella Fitzgerald. Jai's all-time favourite song was Sinatra's `My way.'

Jai had told June that his biography should be named My way, so stunningly appropriate, for Jai lived life just the way he wanted to. (June and a friend are piecing together his life story to be titled just as he wished, building up the biography with anecdotes related by relatives, friends and anyone who knew him fairly well).

His passion for cricket grew so much that he would imitate the Maharajkumar of Vizianagaram with his commentary. "This is Vizzy giving you the running commentary from the Brabourne stadium," Jai would declare in his sleep. A sleepwalker too, he once started opening up the mosquito net, as though wanting to carry it off somewhere.

Daddy's first autograph book to Indu had (t)his inscription on it: And when the Great Scorer comes to write against your name, He'll ask not if you won or lost, but how you played the game. While Daddy flew or drove down to various cities, he insisted Jai travel by train with his teammates, sometimes even in third class.

At Indu's wedding, when the gang was getting sentimental about the baby of the team's marriage, Jai grandly declared,"She's my sister--that Lingam better remember." In the years to come, Jai who hated hotels, stayed with Indu and Captain Lingam, the last named a pilot with Indian Airlines and posted in various cities across the country.

When Jai was on his maiden tour of England, Indu's husband Lingam was learning flying. Being a student he lived on a shoestring budget. Even before the Indian cricket team's manager could disburse the allowances, Jai would dash off to the pub and then place a trunk call to Jayanti (June), whom he married in 1963.

This prompted Lingam to remark in patent Hyderabadi: I felt sorry for this guy that he could not afford making a call and gave him money. This guy forgets his kith and kin and calls his girlfriend instead. This is too much.

Mummy's demise on December 9, 1969 came too much as a blow to Jai. For years to come, he would cry out for her even in sleep. An old driver of the family came calling with a single rose. His words were as much consoling as touching: The Lakshmi of all Marredpally has left us. We will pray for you to be strong.

About two months before his passing, it was diagnosed that Jai had lung cancer. When Indu was leaving for Scotland, he told her to get scotch, After 8 chocolates, athlete's foot powder and eye drops. She'd call every other day, but Jai was too weak to talk and would hand over the phone to June.

Indu cut short her trip and returned on June 4. Jai was in great spirits and his good friends Harry Kanthi and Rama Raju, Chairman of the Siris group of companies, were with him. When Indu fed him the chocolates, he took out his `Famous Grouse,' Scotch, which she had brought down from Scotland and toasted to her, his sister. Watching the scene keenly, Harry asked,"How about Ram and me. Nothing for us, eh ?"

Jai's reply was typical. "Shut up, you two. Do you have a sister like mine ? Does anybody make coffee like she does," he asked, before hugging her tight. While Jai looked frail and worn, his grip was firm as ever.

When the end was nigh, Jai stayed with Indu and her sons at their Jubilee Hills residence, close to Apollo Hospital, where he was undergoing radiation therapy. One day when he wanted a small drink, Indu told him,"Jai, don't you think you've had a wonderful innings and its time you called it a day."

He replied," Yeah. I've abused my body enough. You're right. I won't have any more." But he made sure visitors had a drink, if they chose to have one. One gesture of Indu's pleased him immensely. One morning, she placed a photograph of their parents, next to Jai's bed. She adorned the framed picture with some jasmine flowers, picked freshly from the garden. On seeing it, Jai's eyes twinkled with happiness.

When Jai's condition worsened, Indu called Pratap and his wife Malati in New York. Words failed her and she simply wept. But at home, Jai was his usual handsome, loving and smiling self. The dictum of their parents seemed to be the guiding principle: Life's challenges must be faced and fought--no running away.

Mind over matter seemed to hold sway over Jai. Not once did he whine with the pain that was excruciating. The simple pleasures of life he savoured. He'd ask for a chair to be placed in the verandah or garden, where he would gaze at nature's splendour. He wanted a smoke but couldn't inhale more than two puffs.

Looking at a picture of Lingam, he raised his hand in a feeble salute that seemed to suggest,"I am coming to you soon." Jai had been a major source of solace to Indu in her hour of grief, when Captain Lingam breathed his last in Bombay.

A day before the end came, Indu's sons installed a music system, with headphones to enjoy jazz and his favourite Frank Sinatra. Cricket star Sunil Gavaskar, who in his own words was his `staring, gawking fan,' held Jai's hand and spoke to him for an hour or so. Jai could/would not reply. His eyes were open but he seemed to be drifting in and out of consciousness.

Jai would cry out for Mummy, while his head lay nestled in Indu's lap. Looking up at her, he said,"I'm going away to Mummy." Like all good things must come to an end, the time had come for the sister to be rend from her brother so dear.

When her sons were with `Jai mama,' in his last waking hours, their uncle's words were memorable. "I'll go with the shirt on my back, hair on my head and with my chin up. True enough, in the lion's last roar, a smile played on his lips.

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