Chandigarh’s lost tennis glory

Memory creates time and needs a trigger that can rekindle a past whose images are stored in our mind. A stream of pleasant, joyous pictures flashed in front of my eyes when Chandigarh and tennis were mentioned in the same breath in recent reports. The Chandigarh tennis stadium, that was built in the Eighties, was taken over by the UT administration citing mismanagement of the sports federation in running the centre. As I read the news, nostalgia transported me back to a time that still nourishes my present.

Indian tennis today presents a bleak picture and the future promises no better. The highest- ranked Indian player in the world is Sumit Nagal at around 300 and the nation as a team is struggling to stay afloat in the Davis Cup. When I was taking my first steps in sports journalism, Indian tennis shone bright. It had already made the Davis Cup final twice and Ramanathan Krishnan was a true legend who had twice made the semi-finals of the Wimbledon and had acquired a world ranking of number 3 when at his peak. He was followed by the lanky, magisterial Vijay Amritraj, who had taken India to another Davis Cup final in 1974, which India forfeited, refusing to travel to South Africa due to its apartheid policies.

During the same period, Chandigarh had an engaging administrator in MG Devasahayam, whose love for the sport made him strive to make the UT a centre of excellence in tennis. Those more politically inclined will remember Devasahayam for developing a human bond with Jayaprakash Narayan during his incarceration after Emergency was imposed in 1975. The ailing JP spent his prison time in Chandigarh’s PGI and is widely quoted as having referred to Devasahayam (the Deputy Commissioner) as his “friend” and the “son he never had”.

Devasahayam was a daring, energetic civil servant, who had entered the Indian Administrative Service after leaving the Army as a Major. Sports lovers remember him as the man who brought Chandigarh to the international tennis map. What heady days they were in the Seventies for a student of English literature at Panjab University. Bunking classes to be watching a tennis tournament that the campus courts hosted, where the likes of Premjit Lal, Jaideep Mukherjee and the maestro, Ramanathan Krishnan, though much past his prime, also played. Also participating in that tournament was 15-year-old Ramesh Krishnan, son of the legend Ramanathan himself.

Watching from the makeshift wooden benches that surrounded the court were us, the students, and tennis lovers of the city. Ramesh, who would later dominate Indian tennis and make the Wimbledon quarter-finals twice and acquire the highest ranking of 23 at the ATP, mesmerised the crowds while wielding the racquet like a painter’s brush. Much like his father had done worldwide, Ramesh had those delicate touches and a pristine backhand that would pierce gaps in the court as if he was threading a needle.

Armoured with deft strokes and facile elegance, it was no surprise that he beat his father in the final and announced to the world the arrival of a prodigious talent. He achieved much, but could never reach the top in a tennis world that was getting more and more physical and favoured brute fitness over being just skilful.

A glimpse of what fitness and athleticism can do was first shown to us by another teenager, Leander Paes, in Chandigarh. He won his first major International Tennis Federation tournament in 1989 as a junior at the Chandigarh lawn tennis courts, beating Pakistan’s Usman Rahim in the final. A few months later, he won the Wimbledon Junior title, which was no surprise to those who had watched him in Chandigarh. Those lunging, diving volleys, the swiftness with which he rushed to the nets after his serve and the energy that he drew from the cheering crowds that became the trademark of his game later, were all on display that afternoon.

A year later, in 1990, Paes was to make his Davis Cup debut against Japan. Chandigarh’s tennis stadium was again the venue that showcased the 16-year-old’s talent at the world stage. It was a much debated decision where the non-playing captain, Naresh Kumar, pushed for the teenaged Paes to partner Zeeshan Ali in the crucial doubles tie. Years later, in a televised interview I did with him for Doordarshan, Paes broke down while remembering his debut as he thanked Naresh for showing faith in him. He had not let his mentor down in that doubles game, which the Indian duo won in five sets, with the fifth set going to a record scoreline of 18-16.

My last year as a professional journalist in Chandigarh coincided with the city hosting the Davis Cup semi-final against Australia and receiving a 0-5 drubbing. Ramesh was on the wane but Paes was to later make rapid strides, winning an Olympic bronze and a clutch of doubles Grand Slam titles with his friend-foe Mahesh Bhupathi and many Davis Cup wins that are part of folklore now. Unfortunately for Paes and just like Ramesh, he did not have a big frame to unleash those booming serves that most certainly would have pushed him to the very summit of the world tennis ladder.

India, from the promise of becoming a tennis power, is now not even a footnote in the international tennis circuit. A flawed, indifferent, nepotistic tennis federation could be one of the many reasons for this gloomy state of affairs. The takeover of the Chandigarh stadium from the local tennis federation by the UT administration is symbolic of that steep, sudden fall.