JP Yadav: first-class cricket's Lance Armstrong © Getty Images

If we look around, we will find many people on the street going through enormous upheavals in their personal and professional lives, but they battle it out with a smile on their face. I have been fortunate enough to be closely associated with some players who have stood up to personal and professional hardships and have shown immense resilience in overcoming their challenges.

It is very tempting to include few of the extraordinary feats that have been performed by two of our superstars, Sachin Tendulkar and Anil Kumble. Tendulkar smashing a hundred in a World Cup match after returning from attending his father’s funeral or Kumble turning out to bowl with a broken jaw in Antigua have been inspiring and well-documented.

Instead, I would like to elaborate on how three domestic players have displayed rare courage and are still doing their jobs so well for their side. They are my team-mates: JP Yadav, Santosh Saxena and Kulamani Parida.

We have all read about how Lance Armstrong won his battle with cancer before he conquered the cycling summit. But very few people know that JP was diagnosed with a tumour in the area above his heart around the year 2000. He was referred to a cancer hospital in Mumbai, by his doctors in Bhopal, where he underwent three cycles of chemotherapy. During this period he had to suffer all the after-effects and hardships of chemotherapy. He lost nearly 15 kgs weight and was advised to stay away from the cricket field for one-and-a-half years even if the tumour didn’t recur.

JP was lucky that the tumour didn’t recur, but such was his love for the game that despite medical advice he went with the Madhya Pradesh Ranji team for the Wills Trophy within 30 days of completing his third cycle of chemotherapy. He did pretty well in that tournament and showed remarkable consistency which was rewarded with him gaining a spot in the national squad. He has been one of the top-quality allrounders on the domestic circuit having scored over 7000 runs and taken over 250 wickets.

If this was a case of life-threatening disease, the next case of Kulamani Parida is of fulfilling responsibilities of a household from a very early age. Parida’s father was, in his prime, a well-to-do fisherman but he gradually squandered his wealth in gambling and he could never come out of the mental and financial turmoil.

Parida’s mother then did some petty jobs to support the family of four daughters and two sons. By the time, Parida was studying in standard seven, he was already selling eatables or working as a mechanic in his colony to support the family.

He started playing cricket in a local club in Cuttack’s fisherman colony as a wicketkeeper-batsman. His big offspinners were accidentally discovered by a local coach. However, it was his cousin Kusha Sahu who supported his cricketing ambitions. He got employment in the Railways as a helper and had to walk three km each way to oil the railway tracks and signals. Gradually he got picked for Railways Under-19 and has been an outstanding bowler, taking well over 300 wickets and playing at all levels of Indian domestic cricket.

He has, till date, single-handedly funded the marriage of all his four sisters, provided for the technical education of his younger brother and built a three-bedroom house in the same fishermen colony in Cuttack. Kulamani, as his name suggests, has been a precious mani (jewel) for his kula (family).

The third case which I felt needed to be brought forward deals with how a boy from a similar poor background had to deal with consecutive deaths of his near-and-dear ones, yet never losing hope in his life.

Santosh Saxena’s father passed away when Santosh was four years old. He had four brothers, and his mother resorted to selling vegetables by the road in a hand cart. Santosh as he grew older started helping his mother in selling vegetables after returning from school. This helped his mother to take a break and look after the cooking.

As the years passed, Santosh started playing tennis-ball cricket and his talent was noticed by a club cricketer who then advised him to start practising at MB Union Cricket Club in Mumbai. He was then picked up by Orient Shipping Group for whom he played on contract basis for two years. He then switched clubs and started playing for New Hind Cricket Club. In one of the club matches, Sanjay Manjrekar was so impressed by his bowling that he fast-tracked Santosh into the Mumbai Ranji side.

Life seemed rosy but that was not be, as Santosh lost three of his brothers to untimely deaths in quick succession around the year 2000. He took all these blows in his stride and performed well for the Mumbai Ranji team. After taking a job with Railways, he has been a regular member of the Railways team. Today, he supports the family of his deceased brothers and lives in a 850-sq ft apartment in the suburbs in Mumbai.

Steve Waugh had written in one of his books that if he is looking for qualities in a cricketer, he would prefer character over a cover drive. I am sure every team and every player will find similar examples who can be taken as role models in the real sense.

Our ability to challenge our inherent limitations and then overcoming those challenges through our actions define who we are. Here’s saluting the spirit of such exemplary personalities who have proved that character is all-important.

	Celebrations inside the dressing room are always special © Getty Images

Almost every cricketer in Mumbai plays in the maidans in the initial stages of his career. One of the most memorable things about that club cricket is the makeshift dressing rooms. A small tent, with about 15 to 20 wooden or plastic chairs, generally serves the purpose of a dressing room. One has to do everything there only, including changing into and out of the whites. During the Kanga League, always played during the monsoons, it usually rains during the matches. The game comes to a halt, water rushes into the tent, both the teams are in the same tent and one has to stand on a chair with the kit. One may graduate from there to first-class cricket or to international cricket, but sometimes the fondest memories – apart from achievements on the field – emanate from the dressing room, be it a makeshift tent, an old-fashioned dressing room full of history, or a modern one with a gymnasium and all slick amenities inside.

We spend a significant part of our lives in the dressing room, hence it is important to have the right environment there. And if that is the case, it shows on the field. We come from different ethnic backgrounds and travel a lot with each other, spending months away from home, so obviously we have to bond. We celebrate a lot of festivals in the dressing room: Eid, Diwali, Holi, Christmas, when the whole team gets together. Often we are playing on the New Year’s Day, so while we miss home, we have a small family with us that keeps us going.

The celebrations inside dressing rooms are always special. We recently celebrated Baroda captain Connor Williams’s completion of 100 first-class games, in Amritsar. It makes it special for the player when he knows that the team is out there to support him and acknowledges his achievements.

Apart from regular team meetings, there is a lot one can learn in the dressing rooms. When I walked into the Bombay dressing room for the first time, I was in sheer awe. I had always wanted to be a part of that team. And there I was, able to spend with all the seniors I had heard about, seen on TV.

I have played under Ravi Shastri, Sanjay Manjrekar and Sachin Tendulkar. Sharing the same dressing room, I got to know about their habits, their superstitions, their approach towards the game, their preparation for the games, and the way they tackled situations. It was an enriching experience that helped me later in my career.

Almost every player has superstitions. One of the most obvious ones was Tendulkar’s who used to sit two seats from me. He would always wear the left pad first. There are others who sit in a certain manner, who don’t like to talk out of superstition, but Tendulkar’s left-pad-first was an obvious one.

In dressing rooms one also gets used to behavioural patterns of different players. For example if Vinod Kambli got out early, we knew everything in the dressing room would fly around. So the moment he got out, the dressing room would go empty. For the next ten minutes, a bat would fly here, helmet there, and no-one would enter. After sometime, we would come back and settle down again.

Tendulkar would react differently. He would just keep his equipment down and be on his own. Some others would abuse themselves out loud for having played a bad shot. But the beauty was that we knew how an individual would react, and would give him his space so that he could settle down.

The Indian dressing room was an entirely different feeling. It takes a while there to adjust. Firstly there is a mix of immense happiness and pressure that makes the newcomer nervous. Over the years when one has represented a state, one associates with certain individuals. For example it was not only Tendulkar in the India dressing room, but players from other states too that I had to get used to. Moreover, everyone else has his habits. For every venue, every individual has his own seat and he has been in that position for many years. For a newcomer it can be tricky when he searches for his seat, because he has to make sure he doesn’t sit in a seat where someone else has kept his stuff. And one can tell from looking at the equipment which seat is Tendulkar’s and which is Rahul Dravid’s. And then when one finds a seat for oneself, it is a feeling like no other.

Same is the case when teams travel. Players have fixed seats in buses where they like to sit every time, so a newcomer has to be careful with that too.

There is an unsaid pact in any dressing room: that whatever happens there stays there. I have not seen many people discuss outside what has gone wrong in the dressing room. That trust in each other is a trademark of any dressing room.

At different venues, one encounters different settings. Eden Gardens, for example, hasn’t changed much over the years. Still there are only 15 seats, sufficient only for players. The support staff that nowadays travels with the teams is often seen sitting outside. In Mohali, one dressing room is named after Kapil Dev and the other after Sunil Gavaskar, the former for the home team. The souvenirs and the photographs on the way to the dressing rooms make a player feel special.

The Wankhede Stadium has given me the fondest memories of my career. I will never forget the celebrations inside the dressing room after we won the Ranji Trophy in 2003 – I was the captain then. When I sat there after it all, champagne flowing all around, it slowly sunk in that we had won the Ranji Trophy. It is a special feeling because you are there with the people who had made the success possible.

Mumbai, the home team, always take the dressing room on the left side at the Wankhede. Last season, when I was Bengal’s coach and we went there to play the final, it felt a bit strange when I turned to the right. The corridor that leads to the dressing rooms is full of photographs of players who have done well for Mumbai. When I saw my picture there, it gave me a sort of satisfaction that I had contributed to the team and that the association recognised it.