Mahendran Sathasivam:

Divine artistry in batting

by Rohan WIJESINGHE

CRICKET: Hailing from a wealthy business family with roots in Borella, little Mahendran was saturated with precocious batting ability even at the age of 6. I remember seeing little Sathasivam in a junior school cricket photograph aged about 12, seated in the senior row with his feet swinging well above the ground.

Taking his first tottering tentative steps at St. Joseph’s College, Darley Road, he was subsequently poached by Wesley College, Borella somewhere in the twenties. It was a precious gain for Wesley whom he eventually led in 1930. I understand that he did not exactly set Campbell Park on fire and yet must have done sufficiently well to have earned the captaincy in 1930.

Satha, having strutted his teenage stuff at Campbell Park then towered above all else in the 30s through to the 50s, brilliance pouring out from him in a parade of pretty runs. Bronzed, fit and healthy, he would stride into bat, cap rakishly askew, bat nonchalantly tucked under his left armpit, silk cuffs buttoned at the knuckles.

His wand of a bat seemed an extension of his arm as he batted with scornful elegance for his beloved Ceylon and Tamil Union in the islands premier cricket division.

Partying and batting were his pet passions. He would dance the night away into the wee hours of dawn, take a cold shower and then dance his way to a characteristically belligerent hundred. Perpetually cordial company,

I was reliably informed that the virtuoso had a penchant for a case of beer or two or perhaps even much more.

His arrival at the wicket was always a moment of anticipation not to say grandeur. Bars emptied as members drank in the glory of his shots. Even pretty damsels put aside their knitting needles to swoon over the maestro, such were the seductive effects of his batting. Blessed with ballerina balance, he would flamingo dance to the pitch of the ball, leaning into his cover drives and uncoiling for his pull shots.

Chinwag has it that when he was in form it was like bowling go God on concrete, a tad far fetched perhaps and yet the cliche lives on so delectably in Lankan folklore.

The prodigious right hander was a stadium filler, and he did so without blaring speakers, pyjama suits, glaring lights, coloured balls and dancing girls. I have no doubt that the dancing lassies would have distracted him to destruction with their seductively flamboyant gyrations.

Dominated by three

Club cricket during that particular era was dominated by F. C. de Saram, Sargo Jayawikreme and Satha.

And if one were looking for yardsticks F. C de Saram notched 63 club hundreds and Sargo Jayawikreme clubbed his way 58 ‘tons’ as compared to silky Sathas 45 hundreds. Runs piled upon runs. To dissect his centuries would be too arduous a process in a tiny space such as this.

In internationals, for Ceylon Cricket Association which in effect was the country’s national side, at the Chepauk Stadium Madras, Satha notched 215 runs against a top South Indian side in 236 minutes, the bowling loaded with Indian Test stars. That particular knock is immortal and will not die with the headlines.

Batting for Rest of India vs the Hindus a side packed with the Indian Test bowling line up, Satha batting as only Satha can, hammered a belligerent 101 in about even time, wham bang thank you maam.

In 1950, the cream of India, Ceylon and Australia ganged up against the Ceylonese side. Batting for Ceylon on a glue pot against the likes of Miller, Worrell, Ramadhin, Freer and Tribe, Satha stroked a patient 90 repelling four hours of temptation, displaying that he had the tenacity as well as the legendary flamboyance when needed. As the wickets tumbled around him against top notch spin, Satha farmed the strike to be unbeaten of 96 when the 9th wicket fell.

Captained Ceylon

In 1945 against India, following heavy overnight rain which had converted the strip to one vast puddle, Satha wadded in to the attack to score a precious 107 for Ceylon. Sathasivam captained Ceylon against Don Bradman’s invincible Aussies in 1948 and also had the honour of leading the Malaysian national cricket team in the 1950s. The two mavericks F. D. de Saram and Satha were embroiled in a tussle for the captaincy following Bradman’s tour and which was apparently resolved amicably with the intervention of the Board. As a matter of interest the Ceylonese sides for these matches was made up of B. R. Heyn, F. C. Saram, Sargo Jayawickreme, Sathasivam, Malcolm Spittel, Berte Wijesinghe R. L. de Kretser, Ben Navaratne, Makkin Salih, Lucien de Zoysa, T. B. Werapitiya and Sathi Coomarasamy.

The Indians on their part not to be outdone, pitted their best against us. C. K. Nayudu, Mustaq Ali, Vijay Merchant, Nari Contractor, Amir Elahi, Vijay Hazare, Vinoo Mankad and Dhatu Fhadkar among others. They were far less lucrative days and yet they enjoyed themselves so thoroughly, despite the murderously arduous travel conditions. Ceylon’s 1940 tour through India took them through 4000 miles of rugged terrain, shunting between five major cities, within the space of 22 days, for just 12 days of cricket, travelling by train mind you.!

In the year 1951, Satha was the first accused in the controversial death of his wife and was so thankfully acquitted of all charges to the relief of the millions of his fans across the cricketing world. As the legal wheels continued to grind ceaselessly, Keith Miller and Frank Worrell, in passing through Ceylon made it a point to visit the jailed Satha in prison, such was the esteem they and for him.

The fracas was fodder for the tabloids, and the piranha of the press hounded him mercilessly. syphoning whatever life that was left in the legend. To this writer it is so delectably significant that Sathasivam, arguably the best batsmen this land produced and Muralitharan undoubtedly the best of bowlers that we can hope to generate, are of Tamil ethnicity. Having wallowed in the depths of deep despair for a while. Satha left our shores, returning to the had of his birth, only to pass away peacefully to infinity, leaving infinite memories of his timeless grace.

Such majesty may never walk this way again.