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'A labour of love': New film about India's 1983 World Cup win will tug your heartstrings

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6th January, 2022
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6th January, 2022
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Bad enough that Kapil Dev’s India had to deal with having their heads knocked off by lethal bouncers from the greatest fast bowling attack of all time. Worse, they had to deal with having their feet chained by a formidable system that bred mediocrity and mocked attempts to strive for excellence.

1983, a new film detailing India’s legendary triumph at the 1983 World Cup, shows it wasn’t just a victory over the West Indies: it was a triumph over the system, and reminds us that a fight against mediocrity can begin with one man refusing to accept low standards.

For that, Kapil’s triumph has generational and cultural significance and remains unforgettable for those that witnessed the miracle at Lords.

The culture of competition barely existed in 1983 in India and it was assumed global competition implied losing.

Everything was centrally planned – sometimes the Prime Minister even decided what you could watch on TV.

Industry was protected and produced dismally with no global competition. A phone took 18 years to arrive.

So when Kapil demanded good nutrition to make himself a fast bowler, he got the same answer as if he were demanding good infrastructure, cars, TVs, education, and just about anything else: we just don’t make them around here, and don’t try making one yourself either.

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The movie makes note of all that heady stuff, even as it tugs your heartstrings until you shed copious tears in support of a man’s attempt at escaping an inglorious past, in ODI cricket particularly; dealing with the present danger of a great West Indies side; and valiantly resetting expectations for the future for Indians in all walks of life.

It is impossible to leave this movie with a dry eye, unmoved by Kapil’s refusal to settle for very good and instead produce what was needed – with some luck – to be the best.

How glorious was his production? The 175 at Tunbridge Wells by itself would have been enough to cement his place in the book of legends. He then took 5-41 against Australia in a group stage match. Unlike the other all-rounders of his era, he was the best fielder in any match he played, too – except, perhaps, when the great West Indian Gus Logie was on the field too.

The only area where he didn’t do something spectacular in the 1983 World Cup was wicketkeeping (and that’s entirely Syed Kirmani’s fault for not letting him don the gloves!)

Like Einstein, who didn’t stop production after discovering the photo-electric effect and the special theory of relativity, Kapil completed his magnum opus with his own study of gravity as he perfectly judged a mishit pull from Viv Richards’ bat in the final. No man on either team could have caught that catch except Kapil. Even Willie Mays of the Giants would have conceded, should he have watched this spectacle, that given the context, this is simply the greatest catch of all time.

For what left Richards’ bat as a mis-hit orb landed in Kapil’s hands as the emerging confidence of a nation beginning to fight for its place in the world.

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Of course, it was not just Kapil that won us the Cup. The movie incorporates several other key contributions on and off the field.

There’s the audacious Kris Srikkanth, unintimidated by the West Indies, going down on one knee and square driving Andy Roberts straight into our hippocampuses. There’s Yashpal Sharma playing pivotal innings against the Windies in the group stage, and smashing Ian Botham and the English attack in the semis.

There’s Roger Binny, goaded into living up to Kapil’s expectations with sterling performances in the virtual quarter-final against Australia, and the other part of the crucial partnership with Kapil to resurrect India’s fortunes against Zimbabwe. There’s Sandeep Patil slamming Bob Willis all around England; Mohinder Armanath living up to his dad, unafraid of pace and teasing the best batters in the world into complacency with his lack of pace.

It’s hard to think of any other cricketer who was this effective in absorbing body blows, hitting out but only returning fire with gentle offerings around off-stump that somehow got wickets.

Of course, it was not just Kapil, but in a team game, it’s hard to think of any parallel other than, say, Diego Maradona in the 1986 FIFA World Cup who could make such an impact. And Kapil didn’t even need a ‘Hand of God’.

Kapil Dev and Mohinder Armanath celebrate with the World Cup in 1983.

Kapil Dev and Mohinder Armanath celebrate with the World Cup in 1983. (Photo by Adrian Murrell/Allsport//Getty Images)

The movie interlaces cricket action with humor and a light-hearted approach to the genuine difficulties our cricketers faced in those years with a pittance of an allowance to obtain even remotely satisfactory food. It tellingly shows the poor sporting culture of India – where fans are quick to deride and laugh at the team when they are down, and quicker still to jump on the bandwagon when the going is good.

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The team showed enormous character to win the title, but, the movie asks, are some of its fans worthy enough to deserve this team?

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1983 also showcases the importance that family plays in constructing a champion. His mother, Kapil explained, never settled for ‘try your best’. Instead it was ‘win it and bring it home’.

None of that made Kapil a bad loser – he was a great sport in the true sense of the word. But it made him chase and work for clear standards of victory, instead of the agency-diluting and ambiguous ‘do your best’. The difference between that and his mother’s bold declaration is the difference between running to deep midwicket and nearly catching Richards, and in actually taking the pivotal catch.

Setting a high standard to win does not mean mocking failure. But it means giving us a chance to ask and deliver what we ourselves thought may have been impossible. The 1983 cricket team, and Kapil, will forever be etched into our hearts for this reason.

1983 might not even be the best movie about the World Cup win – that honour belongs to the one that keeps playing in the heads of the entire nation that watched the event live, nearly 40 years ago.

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That movie is replete with our own recollections of where we were, with the set of neighbors we watched it with, the joy of reading the newspaper, the eager wait for Sportstar after the victory, and the endless reminiscences in our schools, colleges and offices.

That movie can never be surpassed, but its imagery doesn’t transport to the next generation as well as this movie does. For that, we all should be thankful to director Kabir Khan, for compiling this labour of love, of a story where its lead protagonist saw it as a duty to fight to win.

Long may its cultural import inspire the generations who couldn’t see a great event in India’s long history.

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