The Dhoni Touch: Unravelling the Enigma That is Mahendra Singh Dhoni

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For over a decade, Mahendra Singh Dhoni has captivated the world of cricket and over a billion Indians with his incredible ingenuity as captain, wicketkeeper and batsman. Bharat Sundaresan tracks down the cricketer's closest friends in Ranchi and artfully presents the different shades of Dhoni-the Ranchi boy, the fauji, the diplomat, Chennai's beloved Thala, the wicketkeeping Pythagoras and lays bare the man underneath. He discovers a certain je ne sais quoi about the man who has a magical ability to transform and clevate everything which comes into his orbit the Dhoni Touch.

Bharat Sundaresan lives for West Indian cricket and pro wrestling, and is a raconteur of all things and metal music. He has covered cricket for the Indian Express for the last ten years-seven of which he spent tracking down the Jamaican cricketer, Patrick Patterson.

It's a real pleasure to write this foreword for Bharat who I am sure will portray the best of the great man in his own casual and laid-back style of writing, which, I am sure, will make this book a fascinating read.

My earliest memories of Mahendra Singh Dhoni are unflattering. It was late 2004. There had been talk of an exciting twenty-four-year-old from Ranchi who had been making waves in domestic cricket with his big-hitting, but there was little evidence of his prowess, especially when he made a quiet entry in his first few international games.

The first three games were against Bangladesh, and I can distinctly remember the cluck-cluck in the commentary box when he was dismissed cheaply in the fourth too, this time against Pakistan, always the acid test for any Indian cricketer. Did he really belong at this level?

There wasn't much scope left for debate when Dhoni smashed 148 in the next game he played. Before the year was through, he had thrashed Sri Lanka for an unbeaten 183. A star was born.

For a decade after that, I met Dhoni intermittently. He was player, then captain of India, and I spent most of my time, mic in hand, in the commentary box. Our paths crossed frequently, but given our different jobs, we did not have much time together.

Nonetheless, I marvelled at his rapid growth, as a player, then as a pillar of the Indian team. His work ethic was excellent, as I gathered from those around the Indian team, but even more impressive was his unflappable temperament.

'Captain Cool' may sound clichéd now, but in many ways it was an apt description, for nothing could frazzle Dhoni. I've seen him remain steadfast and inscrutable like a monk in victory and defeat.

With every passing game, my admiration for him only grew, particularly during my stints as the team director in 2014-16, and then as chief coach from mid-2017. Being in the same dressing room gave me greater insight into the player and the man, and in both aspects, he is top class.

Dhoni is an unorthodox cricketer and an unconventional man. His technique, in front of and behind the stumps, is not easily replicable. My suggestion to youngsters is: don't try it, unless it comes naturally. But this does not mean he doesn't put in the hard yards to succeed. In fact, there are few who train and try harder.

As an individual, he is fascinating. A man of few words, his ability to insulate himself from all the brouhaha that surrounds cricket in India-and this gets more cacophonic when a player is successful-is quite remarkable.

Woh dekho wahan Dhoni Kuch cricket mein dhyaan nahi hai tska, style-baazi karta hai bas. (Look at Dhoni over there. He's not focused on cricket. He's a show pony.),' says a young man about Indian cricket's latest sensation. His companion pitches in: 'Bike ka shaukeen hai. Bike, gaadi, ghadi, buss. (He loves bikes. He's just about bikes, cars, watches.)' It's February 2005, and I'm at one end of the long, winding lobby at the Taj President (Vivanta now) in Mumbai, happily eavesdropping on these two cricketers talking about Mahendra Singh Dhoni to a bemused senior player. They're in the city for the 2004-05 edition of the Challenger Trophy. Dhoni, who made his international debut only two months earlier, is part of the India Seniors team led by Sourav Ganguly. I'm there waiting for a friend who's also a guest at the hotel.

Meanwhile, at the other end of the lobby, Dhoni steps out of the lift and is immediately swarmed by a gaggle of reporters-many of whom I would go on to share a press box with. I was in college back then and had no ambitions of becoming a journalist. Decked casually in a T-shirt and shorts, Dhoni wades past them, his rust-coloured mane resting on his shoulders. He doesn't say a word. Instead, he shakes his head twice before sauntering into the cafe for breakfast. Many of the reporters choose to leave, while some stick around the entrance of the cafe before they too are politely asked to leave by the hotel authorities.

I stand there amused by the melee. Little did I know then that, in less than five years, this joke would be on me too and that I would end up spending hours in hotel lobbies and a lot of other places waiting for Dhoni and get nothing more than that impish smile from him for my efforts.

The character assassination of Dhoni, by the way, isn't over though. The young men aren't done yet.

Aur, bhaiya, baal toh dekho. Cricketer lagta bhi hai kya? (And, brother, look at his hair. Does he even look like a cricketer?),' says one. This last point resonates with me. There I stand not too far from them, my hair nearly till my waist, and very used to these taunts about us, the follicly blessed. There's something about long-haired guys that most Indians don't trust. Funny that, considering they have grown up listening to fables, mythological tales and religious texts where the protagonists all sport long manes and are extolled for their values. But when someone like me does it, it's considered too outré. And you end up hearing the 'same old clichés' that Bob Seger sings about in 'Turn the Page': 'Is it woman, is it man?'

Book's Contents and Sample Pages