H. M. S. Britannia

t the Montreal Olympics, Queen Elizabeth invited select sportspersons of the world to a reception on board the H. M. S. Britannia. Those invited from the Indian hockey team were captain Ajitpal Singh and myself. I sensed that my team-mates felt bitter at my being invited by the Queen.

My only brush with royalty was in my childhood, when my father once took me to the palace at Bhopal. I remember we passed through many rooms before I found myself in the presence of Begum Sahiba.

On Friday, the 23rd of July, the British national anthem played as I walked up the gangway to the Britannia. A charming young lady dressed in pink shook a gloved hand with me.

Once inside, I kept waiting to spot the Queen. I asked another guest, an American athlete, whether the Queen would come at all.

"Buddy," came the reply, "who did you think you shook hands with? Your mom?"

As I kept circulating in the crowd, I was attracted towards a small group surrounding a handsome man, tall and balding. "Does your friend wear a turban while playing?" he asked. "No" was my reply.

"I see," he said. "It's only necessary to wear a turban while driving mobikes in London."

I did not understand a damn of what he was saying, but I was happy to learn that I had met the Duke of Edinburgh.

Though royalty had come out of its ivory tower to meet and mix with common people like us, Indian hockey continued to wallow in its conceit.

The next day, except for captain Ajitpal, all the players in the field in the crucial playoff against Australia were those whom the Queen had not invited. Aslam Sher Khan was once again shown his correct place on the sidelines.

Aslam and Ajitpal Jogging at Montreal