Au revoir, Sultan Saleem (1946-2019)

Au revoir, Sultan Saleem (1946-2019) A former teammate, and friend of 48 years, is no more. Sultan Saleem passed away at Hyderabad on 21 August, exactly 27 years after my father, succumbing, it seems, to very similar complaints. Saleem was expected to become an international cricket star after he scored 201 and 312 in the same match for All Saints vs. Aliya in an inter-school final over 50 years ago. Saleem was one of the State Bank of India stalwarts to champion my cause and stand with me during my years of struggle to establish myself as a spin bowler of merit. He, Nagesh Hammand, P Krishnamurti and Abid Zainulabuddin were my mentors during those early years, though each of them was just about my age or younger. The year was 1971, when a young pocket marvel called Sunil Gavaskar was making waves on India’s tour of the West Indies, led by Ajit Wadekar. All five of us, my mentors and I, worked and played for the bank, and, unfortunately, I am the only one still alive. And each of us also played under the late Wadekar’s captaincy for State Bank. After that flash of precocity, Saleem had a relatively quiet Ranji Trophy career, in and out of a talented side, which had a batting line-up that often included Abbas Ali Baig, Jayantilal, Abdul Hai, MAK Pataudi, ML Jaisimha, Abid Ali and Narasimha Rao. Saleem scored prolifically for the bank’s team in the Hyderabad league, the SBI inter-circle matches and tournaments like the Moin-ud-Dowla Gold Cup. His batting technique won him many admirers among his seniors, and with his slim physique, uncreased flannels and elegant batting, he was no way behind the Test stars in the glamour department. A natty dresser off the field, he was often seen at the Fateh Maidan Club, drinking tea (yes, he was that rarity in Hyderabad cricket, a teetotaller) and nonchalantly tipping his ever present cigarette in the overflowing ashtrays of the club. He rode his motorcycle at a majestic pace, and gave the impression of a matinee idol trying to please his adoring audience with his immaculate appearance. Saleem went away to the United States in the 1980s, and came back to Hyderabad some tears ago. Ever the loyal friend, he kept in touch with a monthly phone call or two, calls that lasted long, like a Cheteshwar Pujara innings, but text messages or email did not seem to work for him. The calls were invariably warm and full of concern for you and your family. Nostalgia was a strong point with Saleem, for whom old was indubitably gold. Saleem had strong views on almost everything under the sun. While most of us were bilingual if not trilingual in the dressing room, Saleem preferred the Queen’s English. His food choices too were fairly fixed: he once told me he didn’t want to risk a tummy upset when I offered him some curdrice at lunch. He was a film buff, if I remember right, his constant companion at the movies another close friend of mine, all rounder CR Chandsran, who was perhaps one of the first of my Hyderabad cricket contemporaries to die young. The list is long: Krishnamurti, Mumtaz Hussain, Abid Zainulabuddin, Nagesh Hammand, Murtuza Ali Baig, Vijaya Paul, and of course our seniors Jaisimha and Pataudi. All those who played with Sultan Saleem will surely bemoan his failure to go on to the big stage in cricket after his sensational start at the school level, but will always fondly remember his elegance on and off the field, his toothy smile, his perfect manners, and his insouciance in challenging situations. To me personally, he was a steadfast friend.