On the sudden death of Bishan Singh Bedi's death, Pakistan's Intikhab Alam says: 'Khuda hafiz, old buddy. Save a glass of red wine prepared for me. Until sometime later!'


Who will call me each then, at that point, and presently at night and will demand me to sing a Louis Armstrong tune? Who will offer me praises about my singing? Who will test my sanity about a portion of my irregular excusals during my playing day?

I'm shattered. I have lost a piece of my heart today. I can't communicate in words how I'm feeling. I have lost a companion, a more youthful sibling. Last year, around similar time, we met at the Kartarpur Sahib Gurdwara. He constrained me to sing Louis Armstrong's tunes, held my hand, we grinned, we cried. Those were the absolute most gorgeous few hours of my life. I can in any case review his grinning face, waving us farewell once he crossed the line.


I have known him beginning around 1971. I was playing province cricket for Surrey. Bishan was there with the Indian group for their Britain visit. Whenever we first cooperated was in a match during that visit. India was playing Surrey and they had handled three spinners, Prasanna, Chandrasekhar and Bishan. I hit a few sixes off Bishan's bowling. Every one of them were in a tight spot and those were gigantic ones. After the third six, he came to me and said "Kaptaan ji dusre bhi bowler hai, mujhe baksh do, simple peeche kyu cushion gaye (Chief, there are different bowlers too. If it's not too much trouble, offer some genuine kindness, for what reason are you after my life)."


After the day's play, he came to Surrey's changing area. I was passing on to converse with somebody in Punjabi. Then, at that point, we won't ever think back.

That very year, we burned through five months in Australia playing for the World XI. There were players from six or seven distinct nations. Gary Sobers was the commander. I was the bad habit commander. Bishan concocted the possibility that since it is a long visit, we ought to basically meet once seven days outside the ground. I made a Sunday club. One time each week, we used to hang out. We used to eat, drink, sing and move. I used to sing for them. This is where he paid attention to Jazz interestingly and experienced passionate feelings for Louis Armstrong's melodies. We were comparative in each sense.


Individuals generally discuss his activity, and how extraordinary a bowler he was. I used to prod him 'Oye Sardar tu bowling karta hai ya Ghalib ke sher sunata hai' (You are bowling or you are recounting Ghalib's sonnet). Such a lovely activity he had.


He was a performer with the ball however close to that, he was an extraordinary person. I have never seen anybody as certifiable as Bishan. There was no phoniness in him. He was a similar back to front. I used to get stressed in view of his character. Whenever I used to caution him, 'Bishan, now and again it is OK to be strategic.' In his more youthful days, he would answer, 'I will attempt.' After his retirement, he would agree, 'stomach muscle toh aadat daal lo (Basically become acclimated to it now).'


I can continue forever and on about Bishan. It is without a doubt a miserable day for world cricket. We have lost a jewel. Our fellowship will go on till the time I'm alive. He cherished me like his senior sibling. I adored him like my more youthful sibling. I might in all likelihood never sing Louis Armstrong's melodies. Perhaps, when we meet in another life.


Today, I will commit a Kishore Kumar melody, one more most loved vocalist of our own. This, from the film Yaarana, is for Bishan, "Tere jaisa yaar kahaan, kahan aisa yaarana, yaad karegi duniya, tera mera afsana."


Khuda hafiz, old buddy. Save a glass of red wine prepared for me. Until sometime later!