Jai my hero, always and forever He looked like a baby who was fast asleep. There was a congestion in the bronchial area which made him occasionally take a deep breath but apart from that there was absolutely no sign that Jai had only a few hours left. It was with great trepidation that I had entered the house for the one image I did not want to be left with was of my hero suffering. That was the reason I had been reluctant to visit him after my return from England. I wanted to remember the dashing debonair, ever-smiling person and was afraid of what I would see if I called on him. His lovely wife Junie playfully called me a darpok but it was true. I was acting like a coward and being selfish. For, I wanted to retain only the happy images. It was, as always, the wife who put it in the proper perspective. No wonder they are called the better halves. Pammi said: ?He has been fond of you for so long, so even if he sees you for five seconds, he will feel a little better and his pain will ease for a few seconds.? Unfortunately, my flight the previous day got delayed by over four hours so I could not go but I did the following day and I am glad I did. My hero looked the same as always. The illness that ravaged his body had left his handsome face untouched. There were no gaunt cheeks, no sunken eyes. I held his hand and stroked it, willing him silently to get up and address me by the name he always called me. ?Gaa-vuskar...!? He never called me by my first name and his was the most correct pronunciation of the name ever. Nobody, not even my family, has made our surname sound so good as he did. My first glimpse of my hero was at the Brabourne Stadium when the Indian team had come to practice and the image of the players laughing and joking as they made their way to the nets is something I?ll never forget. To someone who had just started playing for his school, it gave the impression that there was so much fun and enjoyment in playing the game even at the highest level. That was truly the romantic era of Indian cricket. What good-looking guys we had playing for India and what an entertaining, dashing game they played! There was Mansur Ali Khan Pataudi with his cap drawn over his bad right eye, there was the lazy elegance of Salim Durrani, the handsome Abbas Ali Baig, the dare-devil batting and wicket-keeping of Farokh Engineer and Budhi Kunderan and the great excitement they brought to the game, whether in front of the stumps or behind it. And there was my hero, collar turned up and a silk kerchief knotted around the neck with his shirt fluttering in the breeze. These guys looked like cricketers, walked like cricketers and whenever we overheard them, they talked like cricketers. We heard so many stories of the way they lived life after playing hours were over and this, combined with the way they played cricket, made us want to take up the game even more. It was my good fortune that on my first overseas tour, Jaisimha was in the team as well. There were many hours that I spent speaking with him or rather listening to him and it was a great learning experience. In those days the hotels had rooms which were really huge, unlike the matchbox-style rooms that are in vogue today. So most of the players would gather in one room, mostly Ajit Wadekar?s, and the topic would invariably be cricket. These were informal team meetings and not those that were compulsory to attend. Yet just about every member would be there and because it was a free wheeling discussion even a newcomer like me could put in my two-paise bit now and then. It turned out to be a dream debut tour for me but even as I returned to India, I felt that had I got even half the runs I did, I would have been happy so long as the remaining half went to my hero and that other gem of a person Durrani. For then they too would have been selected to tour England a month later. That was not to be and though I played with ?Salim uncle? later I never again got the chance to play in the same team as Jai. Of course, we met several times later and had some great evenings together. I have never been jealous of anybody in my life, but now I am envious of God Almighty who now has my hero for company but even He does not know what He is in for. For, make no mistake, the angels are all going to be charmed by my hero and He will only watch helplessly as we did here on Mother earth. Motganhalli Laxminarsu Jaisimha born on 3rd March 1939, reclaimed by God on 7th July 1999. My hero. Always! And forever! Professional Management Group