Batsman, captain, inspiration

In some ways Ashok Mankad was a bit of a riddle. It was difficult to decide whether he was a limited player who overachieved or a gifted player who underachieved. His Ranji Trophy average of nearly 77 suggests the latter while his Test average of 25 hints at the former.

At 16 he was good enough to make his first-class debut, and in his second Test series, against Bill Lawry¹s Australia, he had scores of 74, 64, 68 and 97. At the end of that year, 1969, with Gundappa Viswanath having just made his debut and Sunil Gavaskar yet to come, Ashok was on the verge of adding further lustre to the Mankad name.

His father, the great allrounder Vinoo, had come on to the field at the Brabourne Stadium to greet his son as he returned to the pavilion after that 74 against Graham McKenzie, Alan Connolly, John Gleeson and Ashley Mallett. There was an element of a generational baton-exchange about the gesture.

Yet the younger Mankad never lived up to that early promise. Years later he said that he got carried away by his early successes, and that he lacked, for instance, the equanimity of his opening partner Gavaskar. But perhaps Mankad should not have been opening the batting in the first place. In an era when few Indians volunteered to go in first, Mankad was converted from a promising middle-order batsman into a shaky opener. His 22 Tests were spread over a decade; he had no fixed slot in the middle order. The early success had come as an opener, and that, in the long run, may have contributed to his inconsistent run in the team. Right results in the wrong position can be as devastating as wrong results in the right position.

Mankad - known affectionately as "Kaka", the same nickname as his favourite Hindi movie star Rajesh Khanna - will, however, be remembered for more than his batsmanship. He was one of the most intelligent captains on the circuit, and there was even a suggestion at one time that he might make a Brearley-like figure for India, picked purely for his captaincy abilities. He loved talking cricket, and understood the game better than most. Possibly this intimate knowledge worked against him, as he was only too aware of the pitfalls of batsmanship, and lacked the nonchalance of a Virender Sehwag, for instance, who doesn't clutter his mind with possibilities.

In Mankad's final Test in England he made 43 before a Chris Old delivery caused him to jerk and drop his cap on the wicket. That probably summed up his essential weakness as batsman: he couldn't hook, and he couldn't get away in time. At the highest level, fast bowlers need no further encouragement.

His real contribution to cricket, however, will be measured not so much by what he did as by what he inspired others to do. Generations of Mumbai players, and those who played for his team, Mafatlal, look upon him as their guru. The India bowler Dhiraj Parsana has spoken about how he might have been a better bowler had Mankad continued to lead him. Mankad's handling of Padmakar Shivalkar brought that bowler close to playing for India despite Bishan Bedi's presence in the side, and his nurturing of Parthasarathy Sharma saw that player make it into India's middle order. Raju Kulkarni, Chandrakant Pandit - the list of India players who owe him is long.

Kaka was a great character who told a tale well and loved to both laugh and provoke laughter. He was an avid movie-goer. Gavaskar tells a story of how Mankad stood up and cheered in the hall while watching Cromwell.

Mankad married former Asian tennis champion Nirupama Vasanth; their son Harsh played Davis Cup tennis. In recent years Mankad coached, acted as consultant for a media group, watched his son's career grow, and played golf - lots of golf. He will be missed in each of his avatars.