Not many saw the disciplined hustle and hard work that were the building blocks of the late shuttler Syed Modi’s ‘lazy elegance’. But what subsequent Indian shuttlers, some of whom played in Lucknow this last week, owe him, is unfailing accuracy on the corners and lines, achieved with skill in strokes.
Give a raconteur 3 minutes, and he will wrap up his assessment of Modi’s game as ‘gifted strokeplay’; give him 23, and he will wax eloquent on the nuts & bolts & spanners that could make or break that lazy elegance. Uday Pawar, Mumbai-based contemporary of Syed Modi, says his old pal was ‘laid-back,’ not quite ‘lazy’ on court and his legacy was that disciplined precision.
For Uday Pawar, his warm friendship with Modi had writhing origins: and they bluntly discussed its contours. Along with another then-junior talent Vikram Singh, Modi and Pawar were tipped to follow in Prakash Padukone’s Indian surge in international badminton, being four years younger to him. Their match-ups in national tournaments were curious. Pawar lost 3 National finals to Modi, who lost a bunch of matches to Vikram Singh, who always struggled to beat Pawar.
“We became good friends because I would always defeat players who could trouble Modi – Vikram Singh and at times Vimal Kumar,” Pawar laughs of being an advance party clearing the path for Modi to saunter towards the title.
The UPite could deliberately mangle English, and call ‘surrender’ ‘cylinder’ with a wink, because it made Pawar, laughs.
Modi had the best ability amongst the three to raise his game, and produce the finest badminton on big occasions like Nationals finals. Whether it was the Uttar Pradesh brand of the sport that invariably produced elegant stroke makers like Suresh Goel, or what his coaches inculcated in him, Modi grew up with tremendous, enviable shuttle control that he found the lines at will.
His was very early 80s-coded badminton, not aggressive. Arena sizes in India back then were max capable of 4 courts. Smaller courts, no drift helped control the shuttle no doubt, but Modi could hit to all corners of the court, with cold accuracy – tosses exactly dipping on back lines, drops and half smashes along the side paint.
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Pawar says it might be the conditions of courts abroad, or conservative ambitions or just no realisation of how massively the international circuit defined success, but he didn’t put a lot of store on winning abroad. When he did, he won the Commonwealth Games, but he loved playing in front of Indians – the home applause, his oxygen.
At the 1983 Asian Team Championships in Kolkata, he helped India beat a bunch of Top 8 big names from Korea (quarters) and Indonesia (semis) to reach finals, where they lost to China. Within India, he guarded his reputation zealously like a pro boxer. When he travelled, it was all a bit of lark breezing through Denmark, Sweden and England. Once after stringing a good run in Germany, he asked Pawar after 4 days, “Guru, apun kounse desh mein hai?”
Pawar compares Modi to Ramanathan and Ramesh Krishnan in tennis in terms of fine strokeplay and courtcraft, though he lacked the physical fitness to tame the big Europeans, and he didn’t have a finishing smash that abruptly smothers rallies. “His badminton intelligence on court was like an accomplished scholar. Away from it, he read Chandamama comics,” Pawar recalls, staggered at the contradiction.
Simple life
“He loved the simple life – watching Bachchan movies and eating butter chicken at the end of the day. But he was street-smart,” Pawar says. There’s a tale about how Modi carefully carried a wad of saved dollars on an international trip, but quietly asked around about borrowing dollars. “He didn’t really want money. He just asked around because he said it would ensure others wouldn’t borrow from him,” Pawar recalls.
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“Modi could get whatever he wanted on court with his charm, he was like Sehwag of badminton. He could patao umpires, and get the 50/50 decisions,” he recalls. There’s that famous anecdote of how he kept requesting for a change of shuttle politely after every point, walking up to the chair. And the umpire would decline equally politely (and slowly) after every point. “But in the process, this bugger would get his 30 second breather, no? Politely!” Pawar guffaws.
National camps back then stretched for 9 months, and Modi ensured even India’s ambassador to the UK knew how much hard work went into the sport. “We were at the high commission, and we were told to stand up and introduce where we came from. It was all very formal till he got up, and declared, ‘Ambassador Sir, I’m from Illahabad. But i-staying all the time in Patiala.’ The whole room was in splits.”
So, was Syed Modi, all about being naturally gifted? “It’s unfair on stroke players to say it’s just a natural gift. They develop it after years of practice. Accuracy in finding the lines was achieved in the shadows, quieter times that nobody saw,” Pawar says.
