Kapil Dev once shed copious tears on the Tele while he was being grilled over his alleged involvement in match-fixing.

“What caused you to well-up, Sir? Surely, you were aware beforehand that spewing bile from his mouth is Karan Thapar’s chief occupation-cum-primary hobby”.

“Oh, it was not about him. He is a known buffoon. You can’t take such parasites seriously anyway. It was the sudden remembrance of a seagull that I had killed in Adelaide way back in 1986 that opened the floodgates.”

“What! You killed a seagull? Why on earth or water or even in bloody air would you kill a seagull? Kaps, are you on meds? When did this happen?”

“Maybe you don’t remember, boy. When were you born? 82, 83? On the Republic Day of 1986, I pulled a Kookaburra very hard. Maybe Bruce Reid or Simon Davies had bowled that particular delivery. We were playing at Adelaide, and chasing 260 odd. We were already six down, requiring probably sixty more in fifty balls, or something on those lines. I only remember that I was hitting the cherry pretty well those days, and we were not completely out of the game yet. It was bloody tense out there in the middle. It always was, in Australia, at least till Border was there, and later when Punter was at helm.”

“And you were the skip too. Are you referring to the tri-series in 1986 where the Kiwis were the third side?”

 “Yes, we had become Champion of the Champions in the previous year, and were the reigning World Champs. Border could not digest this rise of India. He was always sulking, ashen-faced, as if he was personally hurt.”

“And so you smoked out his seagull. To wipe away that frown off his face? What the bloody hell!”

“Not his seagull, man. I just pulled the ball hard towards somewhere between mid-on and mid-wicket. A lot of seagulls were sunnying themselves in the park. One of the unsuspecting buggers was slammed on its head by hard leather. How much does it weigh? 2.5 kilos? He never got up, mate, didn’t have a chance!”

“Oh, you saw its mangled body? Did it lose a lot of blood? Was blood spattered across the park?”

“What, you want to further ruin my memories? I didn’t even walk down to the site for fear of witnessing the mashed-up remains. You know me, I’d have puked! As it is, that moment bothered me for a number of days. I felt like a child who is taken to meet some rich relatives who live in a mansion, and ends up dropping their Plaster of Paris vase or costly saucer. Or something like that. ”

“So you remained glued to the crease?”

“Well, they would have run me out had I ventured out. You know the Ozzies, how rough do they play. I took some steps, but Chetan warned me to stay put. Much later, maybe 25 years after the incident, I saw a video of Clive Lloyd hitting a seagull at the same ground in 1980. The gull was lazing around at mid-on when it the cherry dropped on it. Lloyd walked down to the spot, maybe Lillee carried it beyond the boundary. That sea-gull survived, and was released after some primary care. Only then I realized that perhaps I should have walked down to where the bird was, and inquired after its health. That is what I had wanted to do. But you know how they warn you to not show pain or concern while playing against the Aussies. Any exhibition of weakness, and they pounce. ”

“What happened after that?”

“Oh, what happened after that actually left me confounded. I felt the Ozzy bastards took it personally. As if I had done it on purpose. Killed one of their own! They all looked at me angrily, with murderous hostility.”

“Maybe you imagined all that out of your guilt conscience”.

“What guilt, bro? I didn’t set out to kill it. I was trying to finish the match for my country. But I recall I was shocked out of my wits when I realized that the seagull was dead. I then asked for water, but Allan Border would not allow it. Would you believe that shit? Some fielders called me names. Border called me sissy to my face. Within the space of a single delivery, they had become very hostile, almost blood-thirsty, like a pack of hounds.”

“And that’s when we yielded. You got out seventh at 218, caught on a Reid delivery. Chetan Sharma was out on the same score. Two quick run outs followed, and we were folded at 226, losing the match by 36 runs. The dead seagull had sapped life out of our chase.”

“They were cold, rude, angry and hostile even after the match was over. I was shocked at this rank bad behaviour. Someone commented that I’d no business killing a seagull. Perhaps Border wanted to prove some point to his team-mates. But I also took it personally. Five days later when we played them again, I took 4/30, including Border, and slammed 23 off 18 balls. India won that match by 6 wickets. ”

“But they beat you 2-0 in the finals.”

“That’s no big deal. Sporting revenges are not the final nails. You get even, and move on. Then you win or lose, should not matter. But I wish they’d stuffed the bird and kept it in display. Would not have been forgotten, then, Mister Seagull. To create history or build legacy, you have to do something extra.”

“Point taken, Paahji.

I would beseech the Aussie Board to commemorate all future bird-casualties by getting the victims stuffed, and then displaying them in stadium galleries, so that they are remembered long after they are gone.”

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