'I have never missed a match because of lack of fitness'

Unless he is too busy mastering offbreaks, Ramesh Powar usually keeps appointments. So it was slightly intriguing when he didn't answer his phone at the designated time last week. Considering his recent successes at the international level, one was tempted to attribute this to a hectic schedule, where he probably had to oblige to several sponsors and be present at various functions. But all such thoughts were soon put to the shredder when Powar returned the call and explained the reason: he was busy at the marketplace buying vegetables.

It was typical Powar - a throwback to a different age, when cricketers led mundane lives, when offspinners didn't bowl doosras, and when the curve of the ball made more news than that of the paunch. He is probably the slowest bowler in world cricket at the moment - tossing up the cricket ball as if it's a toffee to be gobbled up - and definitely the only one who delivers with whacky red goggles on. He has a big heart, this fellow, not minding risking a six or two for a wicket, and takes immense pleasure in the nuances of deceit - mixing spin, drift, flight and speed in different proportions.

"Domestic cricket taught me that if one wants to be a good spinner, one has to have a big heart," he says matter-of-factly. "Nobody can hit a six off every ball, they will stop at some point. So I was ready to take a chance and gamble on it. I got good encouragement to persist with my bowling - Rahul [Dravid] told me that if you aren't comfortable bowling flat, it's okay. You do whatever you have to, to get wickets. Slower balls are always tougher to get away; you need to play it in the gaps."

For six years in domestic cricket, Powar was more a bits-and-pieces man - good offspinner but prone to lean periods, more-than-useful batsman but not quite a specialist. But last season was some sort of a turning point, when Powar the bowler emerged from the shadows and, with 42 wickets in seven Ranji Trophy games, topped the bowling charts. One of the main reasons for this transformation was the addition of a new weapon to his armoury - the juicy, often lethal, drifter. "I used to bowl the drifter two years back, but I stopped it because I was concentrating on flight and spin. Batsmen mainly try and play me through midwicket and mid-on, stepping out and hitting over. So I had to develop this ball."

But why didn't he join the mainstream? Wasn't the doosra the more popular option? "I tried it but it's a very difficult ball to bowl. So I thought I might as well master the drifter. Ultimately you want to fool batsmen with the direction the ball is moving. The drifter does that for me. I was mainly playing at the Wankhede Stadium, where the pitch offers bounce. So my drifters worked well there. On a flat wicket against Delhi at the Feroz Shah Kotla, in the first Ranji match of the season, it worked well too. So I decided to persist with it."

Domestic consistency was rewarded and handy performances in five one-dayers against England won him a berth on the flight to the Carribbean. His 3 for 34 at Faridabad was a joyous display of guile-filled slow bowling and his plucky half-century at Jamshedpur showed, if one is permitted to use the phrase, his stomach for a crisis. What hurts Powar, though, is the media's obsession with his bulk. He gets a tad touchy with this whole fitness issue, and patiently explains his view on the whole matter.

"I've never thought that being fat was a negative point. Why can't people realise that my extra strength is because of that? If I lose weight, I don't know what will happen - it may be good, it may be bad. I will work on my agility and if I lose weight and bowl well, it will be great. But I don't want to lose weight for the sake of it, to look like a model. I am not a Mohammad Kaif or a Jonty Rhodes. And neither of them bowl offspin. I have been fit enough to play for a competitive side like Bombay for six to seven years. I've never missed a game owing to fitness problems. I've played 10 ODIs and I have never felt that I was too tired or unfit to play at this level."

He doesn't stop there and explains the larger problem - one that domestic cricketers across the country face. "At the international level, you can concentrate solely on your cricket. But at the domestic level, there are lot of things one has to take care of, lot of responsibilities to undertake. I'm married, I have a job, I have work at the bank, I have to buy groceries. In six years before playing for India, I lost both my parents and had to run a family on my own, had to take up so much on my shoulders. People can say Ramesh Powar is fat, but there are reasons for it. I can't just go to the gym and workout when I want. Despite all this, I have performed on the field."

It's tough not to love the roly-poly Powar. He's so much like you and me: bogged down by daily pressures, frustrated by traffic jams on his way to the mall, finding it tough to fit gym-work into his schedule, and being ridiculed for his waistline. He could easily have been a real-estate agent next door. But the fact that he is one of the 11 men chosen to represent the country, in a sport increasingly obsessed with toned bodies and manicured abdomens, is reason enough to celebrate.