Umpiring! - Moti Nandy

Moti Nandy

(Translated from Bengali by Gopa Majumdar)

The Author:
Moti Nandy was born on July 10, 1931 in Calcutta (now Kolkata). Many of his stories revolve around plots which have something to do with sports and games, such asStriker, Stopper, Nonida Not Out, and, of course,Umpiring.
As much as he bases his stories on sports, he also places the action of the stories in Bengal — the Bengal in which he has grown and flowered, the Bengal he knows. He is a recipient of the Ananda Puraskar and the Sahitya Akademi award (1991).


Summary:
In the annual village cricket match between Bakdeeghi and Atghara a visiting Member of Parliament (MP) is pressed into service to act as the umpire.
We saw here the beginning of a great movement that has continued to the present day; the annual cricket match between Atghara and its neighbouring village, Bakdeeghi.
The Sinhas reigned in Atghara; Bakdeeghi was ruled by the Mukherjees.
However, over the years, the violence in their conflict has abated.Since the Second World War, they have been content to play only a cricket match every year to prove their individual might.
Bakdeeghi has won 13 times so far, and Atghara has 12 victories to their credit.
The game is played in the "home-away" system in the football ground of Bakdeeghi one year and the next in the playground of Atghara.
The crowd includes such personalities as the wife of Bakdeeghi's wicketkeeper, Panchu, and the mother of the gigantic fast bowler of Atghara, Chandi (who also happens to be the local doctor's compounder.
That year the match was being played at Bakdeeghi.
The Maths teacher of the Atghara High School, Buddhadeb Babu, had been acting as umpire for the last three years.
Last year he had upheld Bakdeeghi's appeals for three run-outs and two.
Luckily for us, shortly before the match was to take place, a Member of Parliament happened to visit Atghara.
One of my friends, Nantu Dutta, suggested that we approach the visiting MP, Mr Gopinath Ghosh.
It was hoped that he would be able to take an impartial decision since he was not related to any family of Atghara or Bakdeeghi.
"No problem," said Paramesh-da, not willing to deprive Atghara of the glory of having an MP as their umpire.
Three days later shortly before the match was to begin, we found Mr Ghosh sitting in a chair, engrossed in theWisden.
he asked Paramesh-da shrugged nonchalantly."A member of the parliamentary sub-committee for Company Law, Mr Gopinath Ghosh.
Even Malkhandhi, whose powerful lungs usually scared the birds away, made just one appeal in such soft and respectful tones that Mr Ghosh failed to hear him.
Patu forgot to argue as Mr Ghosh's hand went up, and slowly returned to the pavilion.
"For obstructing the field," replied Gopinath Ghosh and, to everyone's astonishment, proceeded to recite Rule number 40 Mr Ghosh, used to taking decisions, now took a quick one.

The Full Story:
Cricket has always excited the imagination of youngsters in India and this is as true in the rural areas as much as in the metropolitan cities. However, in this story, we have an unusual umpire who impacts the game in a most unexpected manner. In the annual village cricket match between Bakdeeghi and Atghara a visiting Member of Parliament (MP) is pressed into service to act as the umpire. At a critical moment in the game he is called upon to take a crucial decision and he does so, with much authority; his only problem is that he takes a decision (which will not be challenged, even if wrong,) because of his stature and rank, and this leads to an unexpected match result.
There was a time when half the city of Calcutta ran away to villages in Bengal in fear of the Japanese bomb. We, too, went to a place called Atghara. It was about seven miles from Tarakeshwar. We saw here the beginning of a great movement that has continued to the present day; the annual cricket match between Atghara and its neighbouring village, Bakdeeghi.
Bengal, at that time, still had a fewzamindars left. The Sinhas reigned in Atghara; Bakdeeghi was ruled by the Mukherjees. It was said that the feud between the two started the day Lord Cornwallis introduced thezamindari system. However, over the years, the violence in their conflict has abated.Since the Second World War, they have been content to play only a cricket match every year to prove their individual might. It's always held during the Christmas week. The members of the two rival families begin to return to their own villages a week before the match is to be played.
Bakdeeghi has won 13 times so far, and Atghara has 12 victories to their credit. No match has ended in a draw. The game is played in the "home-away" system — in the football ground of Bakdeeghi one year and the next in the playground of Atghara.
The general public in both places has become quite familiar with the rules and methods of the game. People clap after a maiden over, and chuckle appreciatively at every cheeky single. The crowd includes such personalities as the wife of Bakdeeghi's wicketkeeper, Panchu, and the mother of the gigantic fast bowler of Atghara, Chandi (who also happens to be the local doctor's compounder.
Right from the first year, the home team had always provided lunch to their opponents. But this tradition came to a grinding halt about six years ago, after a somewhat unfortunate incident. That year the match was being played at Bakdeeghi. Tragedy struck the players of Atghara half-an-hour after lunch. Instead of fielding, the whole team was seen disappearing one by one behind the bushes that line the playground. This resulied in Atghara's defeat and an immediate introduction of the modern 'Bring-Your-Own-Lunch' system.
According to the local rules of the match, one umpire had to be present from each side. The Maths teacher of the Atghara High School, Buddhadeb Babu, had been acting as umpire for the last three years. But this time he shook his head and said, "No." The reason for his refusal was not difficult to guess. Last year he had upheld Bakdeeghi's appeals for three run-outs and two. LBWs resulting in Atghara's defeat.
For about four months after that, he could not go out anywhere, — not to any public place, not even to the local market, post office or the health centre. Rumour had it that he had received substantial benefits from Bakdeeghi. That the Secretary of the Bakdeeghi High School had offered him the post of the Assistant Headmaster and that Panchu had sent him a tin of pure mustard oil.
Even Paramesh Sinha of the famous Sinha family failed to persuade Buddhadeb Babu, who kept saying, "I have always had a clean chit from my friends and neighbours, even my pupils. And now, look at the price I have had to pay in spite of my honesty. Good God, they say I was bribed!"
Luckily for us, shortly before the match was to take place, a Member of Parliament happened to visit Atghara. One of my friends, Nantu Dutta, suggested that we approach the visiting MP, Mr Gopinath Ghosh. It was hoped that he would be able to take an impartial decision since he was not related to any family of Atghara or Bakdeeghi. Besides, no one in the entire district would dare to question any decision he took.
Gopinath Ghosh accepted our proposal immediately, much to our surprise. "There is just one little thing 1 want to point out," he said, "I have never played cricket in my life and 1 know nothing about its rules and regulations."
"No problem," said Paramesh-da, not willing to deprive Atghara of the glory of having an MP as their umpire. "We still have four days in hand. I will give you a copy of theWisden. You will soon have the rules at your fingertips."
"All you have to do," said Nandu, "is mug them up."
"What is really important," I said, "is personality and you have that in plenty. Why, even ministers are scared to argue with you, aren't they?"
Mr Ghosh smiled slightly and nodded in agreement We returned, much reassured. And Paramesh-da and I went the next day, clutching a copy of theWisden. Paramesh-da told me, "These politicswallahs are all the same. If you offer them a plate of rules and regulations, section by sub-section — there is not a single politician in this world who will not lick it clean!"
A little while later, we were sitting with Mr Ghosh. "Look at Rule Number 35," Paramesh-da said. "A batsman is considered caught out if the fielder holds the ball close to himself. But he is also declared caught out if the ball slips between the pads of the wicketkeeper. Isn't it funny? The two things are not the same, are they?"
"How interesting!" said Mr Ghosh.
Paramesh-da served the second helping. "The fourth sub­section of Rule number 20 says the umpire is not the boundary."
"Thank God. If he was, every batsman would try to hit the umpire! I must say the people who devised these rules must have been quite sensible. Don't worry — I'll have no problem of learning these by heart."
Three days later shortly before the match was to begin, we found Mr Ghosh sitting in a chair, engrossed in theWisden. This was a bit disconcerting.Didn't the man have it all by heart as he had promised? And what would the Bakdeeghi team say if they saw him?
Mr Ghosh beamed as he saw us approach. "Excellent book. I'll start a motion to include it in the Parliament Library," he said.
"Sir," Nantu reminded him, "don't forget your personality."
We heard footsteps behind us. Patu Mukherjee of Bakdeeghi had arrived.
"Who is your umpire?" he asked Paramesh-da shrugged nonchalantly."A member of the parliamentary sub-committee for Company Law, Mr Gopinath Ghosh. Who is yours?"
Patu looked crestfallen. "Ours? The same as always, Harish Karmakar." Harish happened to be the prompter of the Bakdeeghi Dramatic Society. He was well known for the composure with which he said, "Not Out!" even when the ball came straight and hit the stumps.
Bakdeeghi won the toss and allowed us to bat. Gopinath Ghosh was seen walking towards the stumps with slow, measured steps,exuding personality from every pore. Harish followed him, visibly shaken.

A stunned silence prevailed among the players of Bakdeeghi. None of them yelled, no one made invalid appeals. Even Malkhandhi, whose powerful lungs usually scared the birds away, made just one appeal in such soft and respectful tones that Mr Ghosh failed to hear him. The whole atmosphere was so abnormal that even the Atghara batsmen began to feel nervous.
However, the innings finally drew to a close at 112 runs.
Bakdeeghi's opening batsmen made their appearance, and promptly one of them was sent back to the pavilion. This batsman, none other than Patu Mukherjee, had tried to hit a ball that was outside the off-stump. Atghara's wicketkeeper caught the ball and made a strong appeal. Patu forgot to argue as Mr Ghosh's hand went up, and slowly returned to the pavilion.
The score read 0 for 1.
Mr Ghosh rejected two appeals for LBW in the next over. We didn't mind this as his impartiality had been established. The second wicket fell at 40 runs. It was not very difficult to get the next six wickets.
The score stood at 101 for 8. The batsmen at the crease were Atul Mukherjee (height: 6 feet; weight: 94.5 kgs) and Bishtu Mishir (height: 5 feet, 2 inches; weight: the same).
These two settled down quickly, and took Bakdeeghi up to 109. Their supporters began to get noisy as victory seemed within easy reach, with just four runs to win and two wickets in hand.
And then it happened.
At that very moment he swung the bat straight at the ball. A catch went up, very high, from what looked like the middle of the pitch.
Dr Bhuwaneshwar Singhi, the homeopath, the worst but the most enthusiastic fielder of Atghara, was standing between mid- off and cover-point. He ran on to the pitch, palms cupped together, ready to receive the ball as it fell. Just then, Mishirji bellowed to Atul Mukherjee — "Run!" — and proceeded to do so himself, holding the bat up like a burnished sword. Atul followed suit, his bat slung over his right shoulder.
Dr Singhi, of course, could hear the earth rumble as the total weight in the region of 190 kgs hurtled across the pitch. Being mild and polite by nature, he began to step out of the way. But Chandi's yell shot through the air — "Stupid ass, you'll miss the catch!"
The doctor hesitated for only a second and then placed himself once again between the two human steamrollers. They ran straight into him from both sides, just as the ball reached his outstretched hands. A moment later all three were rolling on the ground. However, in all this confusion the doctor had not lost his enthusiasm. He extricated his head somehow and uttered a noise that sounded like, "Howzzat?"
"Out!" said Mr Ghosh, without the slightest hesitation.
The two batsmen picked themselves up, dusted each other and stared at the umpire. The doctor was busy trying to find the pieces of his broken spectacles.
"Out!" said Mr Ghosh again.
"Why?" asked Mishirji, once more holding the bat like a sword.
"For obstructing the field," replied Gopinath Ghosh and, to everyone's astonishment, proceeded to recite Rule number 40
This made no sense to Mishirji who did not understand a word of English. Bewildered he stared at Atul
"Okay," said Atul, who happened to be an MA in English, "if that's what the rule says, that's what it must be. But," he added in a doubtful tone, "who is out?
Silence. The players and the spectators gaped collectively at Mr Ghosh. But Gopinath Ghosh was silent, too. He had
Paramesh-da delivered a very slow ball. Mishirji had probably thought at first of making a sweep to the left. But the ball was so slow that he appeared to get quite confused at the last memorized all the rules of cricket, but the book had not taught him what to do if such a complex situation arose. Both batsmen had collided and fallen on top of a fielder. Who then was responsible for the obstruction?
Mr Ghosh, used to taking decisions, now took a quick one.
"Both," he said gravely, raising two fingers.
Strangely neither batsmen argued. Both left the field quietly. Atghara won by three  runs.
There was a great deal of whispering among the Bakdeeghi supporters, but none came forward to object since no one knew the actual rules in detail.
The epilogue to the story came a week later. Patu Mukherjee stormed into Paramesh-da's room one day, aWisden in his hands.
"I shall sue you!" he cried. "You defeated us simply because your umpire was an MP! Look, read the small print."
Paramesh-da squinted at the portion marked in red ink and read aloud, "Only the striker can be declared out."
"Do you see?" Patu went on. "Only one person can be got rid of. Not both."Paramesh-da opened his mouth to speak but shut it as Patu dropped his bombshell.

"Next time," said Patu, solemnly. "We shall also arrange for some uMPiring