To London, with Love (Part 4)

When summer falls, there is this serenity in the air, as if time has stopped for a while. Mornings are beautiful anyways, but there is something about the summer morning of London that cannot be explained. It is peaceful yet haphazard. It is quiet yet noisy. It is slow yet fast. 

There is so much to absorb that you wonder you will you be able to do that on your own. I go out every morning at different times and every single time the feeling is different. 

Early morning it is serenity, there is silence and for a split second, you are amazed how such a busy city can be so quiet. The best part is the few people going around, and you can tell each one of them is enjoying the same feeling. 

A little late in the morning, you can see people rushing to their offices and schools. All of them speeding themselves up while eating or reading something. 

You leave it very late in the morning, it is evident that the rush hour is over, but you can tell that the city is wide awake now, the business has started as usual. 

But one thing remains constant throughout this time, smile! Yes, people with their smile. 

You be on the roads people passing by giving you a smile. You be on the train, and people abandon their seats for you with a smile. You be on the bus people will let you enter first with a smile. You be in an office, and they will greet you with a smile. You be in the supermarket no matter what time of the day, they laugh.

Yes, I am biased towards London and yes I want to be because it is worth it. I feel as if it is mine, for once there is something good in my life that I can call mine. Proudly, with passion and without worrying about a backlash from people trying to throw something negative.

Just like the morning, a time when new stories start. With every sunrise, new events occur, but still you get the confidence that there will be constants and for me, London and people’s smile are those essential constants.

The Story of Younis Khan (Part-12)

Seventeen months later, Younis ended the fourth day of a Test against Sri Lanka unbeaten on 306. He became only the third Pakistani triple-centurion, a landmark that had eluded Miandad. Actually it was not elusiveness as much as denial; Imran Khan famously declared with Miandad on 280, and it still stings like it was yesterday. Shafqat is a professor of neurology and studies the complex functioning of the brain, so I guess calling Miandad again constituted research. On the flattest track Karachi had seen for years, a whole day to go and no point to the Test, all records were within sight. Miandad didn't say much. The next morning, when Younis was bowled for 313 and broke neither Hanif's Pakistan record nor Brian Lara's world record, it was Miandad who called Shafqat. "In Miandad's voice, however, there was a certain degree of levity," wrote Shafqat in Nightwatchman. "It seemed the voice of a man who has suddenly been relieved of an onerous burden."

In our interviews the complicated duality that defined Miandad was evident. Younis repeatedly referred to the respect and honour he has earned, yet still seemed in a continuing search for both; repeatedly he pointed to his selflessness and sacrifice as virtues that warranted recognition. They do, of course, only that if we have to be constantly reminded of them, then…

The final, unseemly end of his ODI career was a manifestation of this. He was selected in the ODI squad for the series against England last winter, after more public agitation (of which the Hussaini interview can now be seen as one vital component). Hours before the first game, in Abu Dhabi, he announced it would be his last. Just a few days before, he had told me: "If you look at my career, a player like myself, he should leave the game with honour." All that agitation, it now was clear, just for an on-field guard of honour and a neat little TV package.

Another way to square this is to see it as a truth about the greatest athletes, or a truth according to Kobe Bryant at least. Two years ago Bryant identified with an obnoxious, infamous post-game rant by Richard Sherman, an American football player, about an opponent he had just bested in an NFC title game ("When you try me with a sorry receiver like Crabtree, that's the result you gonna get! Don't you ever talk about me"). With simple yet commanding eloquence, Bryant called it "the ugliness of greatness". Sherman was simply letting out what was inside him and what is inside him is what makes him the best in the first place.

This inner ugliness, the craving and restlessness, the fighting and insecurity, has driven Younis. Along the way, no question, there has been plenty of external fuel. His players conspired against him. He was treated like a suspect in the death of Woolmer. Protestors turned up with donkeys at his wedding. A politician accused him of match-fixing. He was demoted in a central-contracts system that somehow calculated him to be less valuable than Junaid Khan and Mohammad Hafeez. He was banned because as captain he had dropped players. Instead of investigating his accusation that players deliberately underperformed under him, the board punished him for relinquishing the captaincy. And these are just the ones we remember.

Being a great Pakistani batsman is, by and large, a lonely business. They don't come in pairs or threes or fab fives. In the most fortunate times there has only ever been one. It places extraordinary burdens in expectations of success and ramifications of defeat. Many curl inwards in age, to tend to those slights they were born with or accumulated and stored long ago and left festering. Hanif, Zaheer, Miandad, Yousuf - there's an identifiable pattern there, right?

As we ended our final interview in Abu Dhabi, Younis admitted Miandad's record had occupied him, which is a natural admission but also an unusual one in an age when athletes play down the pursuit of personal milestones. He said he had thought a lot about the shot that would take him past it, though did not say whether he visualised the shot he actually played - a six off Moeen Ali. It was placed, unusually, between long-on and deep midwicket, and though he skipped down the pitch, he still had to reach out to it.

Maybe now peace awaits. I tested those waters. He had understood what he had done, but had we? "I think people have not realised [the significance] yet because I am still around. I am still on screen. When I leave, then everyone will understand."

To London, with Love (Part 3)

London is like a cold dark dreams sometimes, for me it has been a dream come true, a dream I never want to wake up from.

This city and its people have given me so much. So much in every way possible and every way imaginable without even k.

London and its People have given me the opportunity I wanted the most, to start a new life on my own when everything looked bleak around me. Very few people get second chances in life, I got it, with so many possibilities around that I could not believe. It has given me confidence. Confidence to live life, confidence in what I wanted to achieve in life, confidence of doing things my own way, confidence of achieving all the aims and goals set.

London and its people has made me a better person altogether. I have learnt so much by just being in this city and observing things around me. Be it while walking in a park and seeing everyone, be it talking to people randomly, be it photographing the most random of places and realizing how amazing the world is and that beauty in every way should be appreciated.

London and its people made me see things from a different perspective. From spending a day in the university and being amazed from the way things are done and concurrently actually wanting to study more and learn. To the way you treat people irrespective of their skin color, accent and appearance.

London and its people gave me a chance to fulfill so many of my dreams and wishes. Watching Roger Federer play in Wimbledon, to be there in live concerts to see so many stars, with thousands of people. Visiting so many mesmerizing places. Watching cricket at the home of Cricket. Football at the most wonderful of stadiums. Attending so many wonderful events and festivals. Celebrating the new year eve in the most beautiful of ways.

London and its people have been amazing, never at a single place have I seen majority of good people in this world. Sometimes you feel everyone around you is unreal. I have been able to meet so many amazing people and make so many good friends.

But most importantly.

London and its people have accepted me for who I am. They have never judged me. Not while I am jogging sluggishly on the streets or parks, or when I am doing crazy things. It has never stopped me from being who I am and who I want to be. Every single day since the first day I have felt welcomed from day one and they still do.

Dear London,

You have given me so much happiness. You have restored my faith in humanity. You have installed all the things that I was missing. You have loved me and integrated me as one of your own. With all the imperfections, dear London, I just want to say, you are perfect. 

The Story of Younis Khan (Part-11)

Why fight? As we drove along to a hospital in Karachi where he was due to make an appearance, I asked this of Younis. He was sitting, I couldn't help but think, in stiff defiance of the space offered in the back seat of my Suzuki Liana, squeezed awkwardly in the corner against the door. His face must have made the shortlist for Mount Rushmore, so patently is it carved out of granite. And if his eyes were bigger, their indeterminate colour and translucence would make their beauty obvious and undeniable, but they are small and deep-set, hidden within a protruding face.

His outburst to Hussaini about Misbah had caught me off guard. I thought the two got on, as guiding older lights in a progressing side. In a previous interview in 2012, in fact, Younis had only unconditional praise for Misbah. Marriage is one kind of union, as is wartime camaraderie, but 14 century stands? You'd have to have a deep bond with someone to do that right?

Why was Younis fighting now, during the best days of his career, and with Misbah, with whom he had wrought so much success and who is so passive he could make peace break out in the Middle East? And though the question may have been prompted by this episode, I really meant it to apply to his entire career: why do you fight?

"Look, at some point it has to be done, right?" he began, slowing down to emphasise the point he was making, his mouth stretching to accommodate each word, much in the unusual fashion his body does to play shots. The "it" in question, I quickly gathered, meant a general righting of the system. "Somebody has to do it, so why shouldn't I? I tried to do things differently, but I achieved something, right? The 2009 World T20 title, with the same captaincy and the same team.

"But what I couldn't learn, which is in the system, is 'wait and see'. That is why when I became captain, I didn't do what a lot of captains do - 'wait and see'. That is why, with my captaincy, I couldn't grow properly in this system. I said, when you have to do one thing and if it is a good thing, then you have to do it. You can't say, 'Okay, wait, we'll look at it tomorrow.' In this system where Pakistan stands right now, you see… this is why, 60 years later, even now, we are doing mobile registration [he was referring to a belated campaign to register every SIM card in the country]. That is what we are doing, right? Today. This year. In other countries how long has this already been in place?

"If you look at many people now, they survive because they don't do anything. Pakistan is the only country where your survival is good, or you last so long because you don't do anything. Keep going, with your job. What's that Nana Patekar movie? Yeshwant, I think, in which he says, 'I will not say anything now, I will stay quiet. My house, my kids, my money, whatever is happening is happening.'

"It doesn't make a difference to me if I win or lose in the fight. But at least, when tomorrow my children say to me, 'Baba, you talk so big, what did you do?' at least I can say to them, 'When I was made captain, in trying to change things I got kicked out and got a life ban.'

" At this point, it occurred to me that Misbah's legacy, as the most successful Test captain in Pakistan's history while being a man who doesn't fight, a man of the system who does wait and see - it occurred to me that this reality might be eating away at Younis. How could such a man, who doesn't even fight for selections let alone resign over them, be so successful? I put this theory to Younis in as roundabout and delicate a way as I could. He either missed the point or chose to ignore it, but cited Misbah's public and post-hoc unhappiness with the team he was given for the World Cup. Months later, in Dubai, I asked Misbah about Younis' TV comments. He was unconcerned: happens, great player, doesn't matter - exactly the non-confrontational response that might wind up Younis even more.

This period has become a slightly gauche coda to Younis' career. I can't make total sense of the self-congratulatory celebrations surrounding his breaking Miandad's record. There was another felicitation in Dubai when he finally went past it. Yahya Hussaini was the MC.

One way to understand it, or at least frame it within some kind of broader reference, could be through two Miandad anecdotes. When Inzamam came out to bat in his final innings, at the Gaddafi Stadium, he needed six runs to go past Miandad's aggregate. Saad Shafqat, who ghosted Miandad's autobiography and reads the great man's moods expertly, had called him the day before. He wanted to know how Miandad was feeling about his record being broken.

"I'm not bothered," Miandad said.

The next day when Inzamam fell short, Shafqat called Miandad again. Yes, he had seen the dismissal, and no, he didn't get the fuss. "Even if Inzamam had broken my record, he still wouldn't have become Miandad."

To London, with Love (Part 2)

A bad day in London is still better than a good day anywhere else. There is so much to love about this place and the people.

Waking up to a beautiful morning and doing the traditional breakfast. Going out and top-uping your oyster card, then walking all the way to the train station to see the hustle and bustle of the city.

Standing at the underground train station to wait for your train and listening the famous 'Mind the gap please' announcement. Reading the daily ' Though of the day' at the train station and then always picking up a newspaper on way back home.

Walking in random streets to absorb the greatness of the city, visiting the famous places to see how history is remembered and cherished.

Then waiting for the sun to set and enjoying the way people transform themselves from the day life to night life. The London of night is another feeling and another world altogether.

The unpredictable weather, but then predictable people.

Looking at people how the conduct their lives in an orderly manner is exciting in itself.

Queuing for everything be it getting inside a bus, or pub or waiting in the line for paying in the stores. Taking a sunbath whenever they get a chance, always trying to walk fast or jog to find time and keep themselves healthy and fit. Always giving the impression of being busy.

Always ready to shop and spend as much as possible on buying the most trendy clothes.

Walking in the streets with coffee in hand, earphones plugged in. Reading newspapers or books in the trains.

Never bothering anyone no matter what anyone is doing, but yes always ready to help someone when they want, always willing to say sorry even if someone comes in front of you, but most importantly always having a smile on their face.

In short there are one million reasons to love the city and its people, and very few reasons not to do so. It is truly said that when a man is tired of London, he is tired of life, for there is in London, all that life can afford.

The Story of Younis Khan (Part-10)

A superficial study will confirm that Younis stands among the best partnership-builders ever. He has been involved in 63 century stands, putting him joint-ninth on the all-time list. Since he became a permanent presence, he has been involved in 51 out of the 114 that have been made in Tests he has played; in that period, as a percentage, that is the highest. But the relevant detail lies in the identity of his most prolific partners beyond the top two (Misbah and Yousuf). Fourteen of the stands have been made with Azhar Ali, Asad Shafiq, Ahmed Shehzad and Masood, a younger, inexperienced core, whose careers are still nascent.

Azhar and Shafiq, especially, feel like the Children of Younis. "Generally he keeps things very simple, he doesn't complicate when he comes in," Azhar, with whom Younis has seven hundred-plus stands, explained to me. "He doesn't mess with my game too much. Unless you do something really wrong, he doesn't say much. Whatever you do, do it with a clear mind. That is what he says."

In their 242-run stand in Pallekele, over more than 65 overs, Masood can't remember a conversation they might have had in the middle. And the pair knows each other well away from the field. When Masood reached his hundred, Younis joked about how bad his picture looked on the big screen but that was it. Masood did, however, recall that between 66 and 96 he didn't hit a single boundary and Younis hit only one (he hit two). Wordlessly they kept rotating strike so that, in that 18-over spell, the run rate was some way north of three. Later the coaching staff joked with Younis about his lack of communication with Masood. "When a guy is playing, why should I put pressure on him unnecessarily?" he responded.

Off the field, technical advice tends to be in its simplest formulation; it's not given unsolicited but meant to be extracted, upon request. Be a little more open-chested against this bowler, he told Azhar once, or loosen your shoulders against him. Stand a little more upright he told Masood, narrowing the base a little. In a domestic game in Faisalabad a few years ago, a team-mate, Ahmed Shehzad, was dismissed lbw. Shehzad came to the dressing room complaining that the pitch was unfit, the umpire incompetent. He continued moaning about the decision over the next day.

After a while Younis had had enough. He called Shehzad in, asking him to bring his laptop. Shehzad is not, as is becoming evident in a stagnating career, a keen learner. He is, furthermore, not an easy man to convince of anything. Younis told Shehzad to watch the video of his dismissal, and the lead-up to it. After a while Shehzad became frustrated, unable to see what was wrong. Younis told him to be quiet, to listen, and talked him through the video, explaining step by step where he - and not the pitch or the umpire or God - had gone wrong.

"They have to become what they are," Younis told me in Karachi. "Whatever they are, only they can know. They cannot become what they are not. They have to be strong, or make themselves stronger. Because even Allah says he will not help those who don't help themselves.

"At some point all these guys will have a day, one day, when one will stand up and say: enough. Bus, bahut hogaye [enough is enough]. I said that to myself in 2001 and I didn't listen to anyone after that. My cricket changed. I mean, I struggled, but that is life, it will happen. But I just went about becoming what I am."