14 April 2020 22:15 IST

Technically sound and blessed with imagination, Prasanna, Venkat, Chandra and Bedi were so different, yet so similar

India have had more successful spinners since the last of the spin quartet played his final Test in the 1980s; two of them, Anil Kumble and Harbhajan Singh have claimed more wickets than the four of them put together in nearly the same number of Tests combined. Yet, the quartet had a romance and a vulnerability that has ensured their charm has wafted over generations.

Three of the four celebrate significant milestones over the next few weeks. The oldest (and possibly craftiest), Erapalli Prasanna turns 80 next month, five days after his Karnataka teammate Bhagwat Chandrasekhar turns 75. Srinivas Venkatraghavan turns 75 too — next week, in fact. The baby of the lot, Bishan Bedi celebrates his 74th birthday in September.

Winning combination

From January 1962, when Prasanna made his debut, till September 1983 when Venkatraghavan played his final Test, one or more of the quartet played in 98 matches. India won 23 of them. Which was huge for a team which had won only seven of their preceding 76 Tests.

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Till they came along, India had not won a Test abroad. Encouraged by skipper Tiger Pataudi, who believed that the best bowlers should play rather than a combination of great spin and mediocre pace, the foursome stamped their mark on the game.

Prasanna’s six for 94 led to India’s first win abroad, in Dunedin, 1968. Three years later, Venkatraghavan’s five for 95 was India’s best in Port-of-Spain as they beat the West Indies for the first time. Chandrasekhar’s six for 38 wrapped up the Oval Test and the series in England.

When India beat Australia for the first time, Chandrasekhar had figures of six for 52 and six for 52 in Melbourne in 1977-78. The only player to be a part of all these teams was Bedi who claimed 16 wickets in those victory Tests.

Poetry in motion

To speak of the finest only in terms of numbers does them a disservice; it somehow diminishes the sport too.

Those who never saw Bedi bowl missed one of the great sights of the game. It wasn’t just poetry in motion, it was a specific kind of poetry — a love sonnet perhaps, where you had to display the beauty, splendour, longing, and sheer allure of the form within a specific number of lines. Discipline is an unacknowledged companion of artistry; here art cannot lose sight of its objective: to take wickets.

Shorter than the others, Prasanna flighted the ball more and made it do things in the air that seemed to indicate he had it on a string and could make it dance.

It is said of the best batsmen that they own the 22 yards they play on. Prasanna owned the air above the 22 yards, inviting batsmen to step out only to realise the ball hasn’t reached, or to play back to an innocuous-looking delivery only to have it crash through.

Unpredictable

Chandrasekhar was a law unto himself, although that sounds far too aggressive for this most gentle of men (“I see god in Chandra,” Bedi once said). When he was on song (literally, as he loved to hum his friend the playback singer Mukesh’s best), he was well nigh unplayable. Viv Richards has said that the only bowler who gave him nightmares was Chandra.

One of the great cricketing occasions of the time was Chandra bowling to a full house at the Eden Gardens and the crowd going ‘bowled’ in step with his run-up. He claimed 35 wickets against England in 72-73, which remains an Indian record for the most wickets in a series.

Chandrasekhar often said he just needed a slip and short legs — the others could field wherever they wanted.

“When I am bowling well, the catches go there; if I am bowling badly, 22 fielders wouldn’t be enough.” Self-deprecatory humour was a speciality; yet that said something about the man. He was self-contained to a degree unusual in international sportsmen, seldom needing others for his own validation.

Astute and versatile

Had Venkatraghavan, tall and spare, been born a generation earlier or later, he might have been a long-term captain of India, and one of the best.

He is a student of the game, something he emphasised when he returned as an umpire for 73 Tests after bowling off spin in 57. His reserve was mistaken for aloofness. But in a closed group he was unguarded, funny and had sharp views on most things. He was in the classical mould and bowled a mean leg-cutter.

For such a passionate cricket man, Venkatraghavan had time for other interests too. Classical music, history — he was the one player to visit Mohenjo-daro on India’s tour of Pakistan — and in the early days, movies.

He was too the fittest of the four, a brilliant catcher at gully, and had a first class century to his name.

Four men, so different, yet so similar; technically sound, and blessed with imagination. Generous too. Coming together at roughly the same time to lift Indian cricket to a level we now take for granted.