Ashok Kumar reminisces about his father in this concluding part.
DURING his 10 years in Patiala, my father led a bachelor’s life; so much so that he would cook his food himself. He was very fond of good food. Besides cooking, fishing and hunting were his other pastimes. When he was at home, he would meet his friends every evening. He would then go to the grounds and watch young boys play hockey. He would even give them a tip or two.
Dhyan Chand, who reached the pinnacle of glory, had some sad moments during the latter half of his life. In 1972, the Munich Olympics organizing committee had sent a special invitation to him to attend the games. This invitation was extended to only six gold medalists of the 1936 Olympics. My father was one of them. Neither the government nor the Indian Hockey Federation was willing to sponsor his trip. As a result, he could not attend the games. I don’t know if he felt bitter about it. He didn’t say anything.
In fact, he never complained about the way life treated him. He firmly believed that he was playing for the game and the country. He believed that if you got any rewards because of your game it was fine. You were not playing the game to obtain something out of it.
The man who had never known the word defeat during his heyday, would feel sad and’ disappointed whenever the Indian team returned after getting a drubbing in international tournaments. When we lost the Asian Games final in 1978, he categorically blamed the Indian hockey officials for the poor show, in an interview with Doordarrshan. He also strongly criticized the mode of selection.
The then IHF president M.A.M. Ramaswamy took exception to his remarks. He asked me why my father had passed such adverse comments. ! Told/him that he should sort it out with” Dhyan Chand himself. My remark made him lose his temper. But Ramaswamy did not have the courage to question the great Dhyan Chand.
When I mentioned Ramaswamy’s remarks to my father, he was on the verge of granting yet another no-holds-barred interview to the press, but he refrained at my instance.
His dedication to the game was obvious even long after he had retired. Even when his eyesight was failing, he would go to watch a hockey match and try to make out the movements on the field from the spectators’ reactions. He was wedded to hockey till he breathed his last.
About the game, my father firmly believed that the finer points could not be mastered overnight even if one received training from a talented or reputed coach. One had to learn the basics at a very young age. What matters most is that the person should have an intrinsic interest in the game.
I vividly recall the last days of my father. His painful death because of paucity of funds and no availability of good treatment. It was October, 1979, I was in Delhi when learnt that my father had been hospitalized in Jhansi. I rushed home. After 10 days of treatment the doctors advised us to shift him to Delhi. They could not tell us anything about the nature of the ailment.
When we brought him to Delhi, he was admitted in the general ward of the All) India Institute of Medical Sciences. Only after the press had raised a hue and cry was he shifted,
But life was betraying him. Doctors still could not diagnose his ailment. Only three days before his death they told us that he was suffering from liver cancer. It was too late to save him, ironically Jan. 3, 1980; we were playing the Dhyan Chand benefit match in Delhi. Hours before he passed into the ages, the great master of Indian hockey was handed over Rs. 18,000. It was too late to make amends.
Article extracted from this publication >> July 31, 1987
