ONE of the occupational hazards of writing a fortnightly column is that the quest for topicality becomes a risky business. The sharp insight on today's news may look like the conventional wisdom by the time your piece appears in print; worse, it may be overtaken by the onrush of events, so that a celebratory column on, say, India's victory in the first Test match against Pakistan might appear just as your readers are mourning a shambolic performance in the second. No self-respecting columnist wants to sound either banal or foolish, and so the eponymous occupant of this precious space has tended (forgiveably, he hopes) to confine himself to broader issues which, while relevant to the times, are in no danger of perishing on the shelves before the Sunday Hindu is opened.

So it is with some trepidation that I declare, on the strength of his performance over the last few weeks and well before a ball has been bowled in the second Test, that Irfan Pathan is already well on the way to being my favourite player in this extraordinary Indian team. My enthusiasm may be partly explained by the fact that I am the father of two 19-year-old sons, and the sight of this 19-year-old bounding down to hurl his thunderbolts fills me with that mixture of pride and awe that I think of as typically paternal (admiration for what is being done, suffused by wonder that this youngster is doing it). But that's not the whole story. After all, the Indian team is full of stars who deserve our encomia: the astonishing Sehwag, who combines breathtaking strokeplay with an audacity rarely practised by an Indian, and never previously with such success; the peerless Tendulkar, whose accumulation of runs and records places him on everyone's list of the best batsmen of all time; the consistent, thoughtful Dravid, whose average rivals Tendulkar's; the elegant match-winning Laxman, who seems to perform his best against the most redoubtable opponents; and the unflagging Kumble, of whom Shakespeare might have written that age cannot wither, nor custom stale, his infinite lack of variety, and whose skill and tenacity have added him to the ranks of India's cricketing immortals. Pathan is still too young and too new to be mentioned in this company.

And yet — think of what he has brought to this Indian team. Raw youth? We already have that in Patel, a year younger than Pathan; but Pathan's is a youthfulness raw only in its energy and enthusiasm. His conduct has a maturity that belies his 19 years, and it is allied to a temperament his elders should value. Pathan is constantly striving, trying new angles, outhinking the batsmen (most of his victims fell into traps of his devising — just look at the way in which he winkled out Yousef Youhana at the death in the First Test. A bouncer fifth ball to see how the batsman would react; then, in the last ball of the over, when Youhana absolutely needed a single to keep the strike, another bouncer which the batsman was forced to hit to the fielder waiting for the stroke.) Pathan has a cricketing brain rarely seen in a fast bowler, and he is always seeking to learn, to improve, to educate himself. Any bowler in only his third Test, taking six wickets on a track that broke the hearts of the three better-known pacemen on the other side, has ability, determination and commitment in plenty. Pathan has heart, and he also has a head. His English is not yet as ready-for-prime-time as his telegenic looks, but in his interviews he has already spoken of figuring out the difference between bowling in Australian conditions and in those of the subcontinent. Irfan Pathan is old enough to command a place in the team as a matter of right, and young enough to know that he still has a lot to learn. I shall follow his career with, I hope, steadily-mounting excitement.

But since this is not a sports column, there is another aspect that thrills me about Irfan Pathan playing for India. And that lies in the simple fact that his very existence is a testament to the indestructible pluralism of our country. He hails from Gujarat, a State in which many — many with loud voices and great influence — have sought to redefine Indianness on their own terms. Neither his religion nor his ethnicity would have qualified him as Indian enough in their eyes. He is a Muslim, and not just a Muslim but the son of a muezzin, one whose waking hours are spent calling the Islamic faithful to prayer. Worse still, he is a Pathan, whose forebears belong to a slice of land that is no longer territorially part of India. To be a Gujarati Muslim Pathan might be thought of a triple disqualification in this Age of Togadia. Irfan Pathan has not just shrugged off his treble burden, he has broken triumphantly through it.

And he has done so without apology for his identity, or his faith. Interviewed after his three for 32 in the last one-day international clinched India the series, Pathan

Source: hindu