In the age of IPL and carnival cricket, he plays correctly and with the straightest bat. He is eight-year-old Prithvi Shaw from Virar, 4 feet tall but on his way to a bigger stature on the cricket field
At 4:30 every morning, when kids his age are lost in their own private wonderlands, Prithvi Shaw shuns the pillow to begin another long day of cricket. Far from the primetime world of IPL with its cash and colour, the 4-ft-tall eight-year-old says, “I don't mind getting up so early because the thought of playing cricket makes my laziness vanish.” Like thousands of others in this nation of cricket fanatics, he too dreams of his moment in the floodlights. But unlike them, Prithvi’s story could have that rare happy ending—for, even at his age, the lad from Virar has made experts and enthusiasts sit up when he pads up and walks out to the middle.
“When I first saw him, I could not believe that he played so well. In fact, nobody would unless he saw the kid playing,” says Raju Phatak, Prithvi’s coach at Rizvi School where he is a student in Class III.
Prithvi’s genius is harnessed to his father Pankaj Shaw’s determination. At 4:30 every morning, 30-year-old Pankaj wakes up before Prithvi to prepare him for the 6:10 Virar local—their only connect to the stadiums of Mumbai. But the 70-km ride between Virar and Mumbai is not an easy one. “If we don’t make it for the 6:10 Virar local, it is impossible for my little boy to travel in the crowd with his cricket kit,” says Pankaj. The two bond easily, the fallout perhaps of Prithvi losing his mother to asthma when he was four. “I don’t miss my mother so much since my father takes care of me and is always with me,” says the youngster.
To ensure his son has a chance at a better future, Pankaj has to inject a dollop of optimism into an irregular income that comes from renting out the mini earthmover he owns. It brings in a modest Rs 200-300 a day. “Though there are days when there is no business, we somehow manage,” says Pankaj. He also manages first-class tickets to spare his son the hassles of crowded compartments. Pankaj once ran a cloth business in Mumbai’s Malad area, but his partner duped him of his share.“Now I only concentrate on my son’s cricket,” he declares. “When he was two, Prithvi started playing in the nets with a leather ball,” he says, as proud of his son as the Tendulkars were once of the prodigy in their family.
Prithvi hasn’t failed his father either. “My father cares a lot for me and it’s only because of him that I’m able to play and concentrate fully on the game,” says the lad, words that belie his tender age.
He was admitted to Bandra’s Rizvi School on the recommendation of Vivek Kadam, whose Sainath Club is accredited with the Maharashtra Cricket Association (MCA) and organises tournaments in and around Virar. But heroes hardly emerge from Virar. So Prithvi has to travel to Mumbai. “The point is that even if he is a champion in Virar, in Mumbai he is a nobody because of the exceptional talent in that city,” says Kadam, a former Railways cricketer. “Introducing him to Mumbai means the child will get the right kind of exposure because talent scouts and selectors do not come to these areas.” Rizvi Educational Society has now decided to provide Prithvi with accommodation in Bandra to save him the time and effort required to reach the stadiums in Churchgate.
Since he started playing in the big city, Prithvi’s cricketing skills have seen an upswing. He was the youngest batsman in last year’s Under-14 Vinoo Mankad Tournament organised by the District Sports Organisation, but caught everyone’s eye with his skill. Then at this year’s Giles Schools Tournament, a 125-year-old event, Prithvi scored two half centuries and a 43, scores that helped his school finish runners-up. He scored a half century and a 47 in the Mumbai Under-13 selection matches. In the ongoing LIC Under-14 series of four Mumbai teams selected from a pool of the most promising young cricketers, Prithvi represents Sachin XI—almost a foretelling of things to come.
In the era of heave-ho cricket, the youngster does not think much of the Twenty-20 hoopla. He plays correctly and with the straightest bat, even when he collects his colony mates for a bit of galli cricket. There is no carnival shot when a ball is bowled at him. Each of his strokes speaks of style, passion and determination.
“My favourite cricketer is Sachin Tendulkar,” he says, as if there could be any other. “I also like Dhoni,” he adds, “but only in one-day matches.” And then with a mischievous smile, he says, “But I think Dhoni should not play Test cricket.” He also says that he admires Sunil Gavaskar and Mohammed Azharuddin for their “great techniques”.
At his humble home, against a backdrop of his collection of small bats, Prithvi picks up the bat gifted to him by Tendulkar. It’s a professional SG bat but of a size that suits the little boy. “These kinds of bats are not available in India in this size,” says Pankaj with admiration. In fact, the Indian maestro recently had a chat with Pankaj—the most memorable ten minutes of his life. “I could not bring myself to speak,” says Pankaj. “He told me to just let Prithvi be and allow him to develop his game by himself. He also said that I shouldn’t neglect Prithvi’s studies just because he is good at cricket,” says Pankaj, still savouring his time with the Indian legend.
For a boy his age who has chosen to live a life on the sports field, it does come as a surprise when Pankaj says that the lad is actually good with his books and has consistently scored 80 per cent in his exams
“Prithvi is our dream,” says Kadam, sitting on a verandah of the modest changing room of the Virar Nagar Parishad Cricket Ground, where Prithvi first faced a cricket ball at the age of two, 70 km from Mumbai’s Wankhede Stadium that is home to some of the greatest names in international cricket. As the kid changes into his gear—his MIG gloves, the Morrant pads gifted to him by an English coach (who wants to take him to England to play county cricket), and his favourite SG bat with Tendulkar’s autograph on it—a metamorphoses unfolds. The callow child is gone and a mature player emerges. His shots are hard, fast and always along the ground.
“Prithvi’s talent is totally natural and he does not need to be taught,” says Phatak. “There is a certain maturity in him when it comes to cricket, unlike other kids of his age or even those older than him. He really puts in a lot of effort and doesn’t miss even a single match.” That perhaps is the true mark of a rising crickete
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