Gladiators 2

If they won a match, they got Parle G biscuits - mom sold jewellery to buy kit - played without socks and shoes

Matunga's Major Ramesh Dadkar Maidan, where former India skipper Sunil Gavaskar grew up playing, continues to nurture exceptional talent. On a Thursday afternoon, three matches are unfolding on separate wickets. And beyond a bunch of teenagers, practising in a corner, is a team of eight.

"Some of us even have pot-bellies now," laughs 41-year-old Rohan Galatkar. Pointing to the group's all-rounder, and the team's youngest, Galatkar says none of them would have been here if it weren't for Sanjay Pawar. "Pawar was in Class IV when we 16-year-old players took him in. Every single time he took a fall or got hit by a ball, he burst into tears," Galatkar teases.

Last year, Pawar, now 35, created a WhatsApp group in the hope of reuniting with his childhood friends. And when the Gladiators, as they call themselves, finally met, 20 years had lapsed. What happened next has inspired a documentary film.

Filmmaker Aliakbar Campwala

At 75 minutes, Not Out celebrates Mumbai's gully cricket scene. London-based filmmaker Aliakbar Campwala, who was born in Mumbai, says, "Galatkar and I attended Mazagaon's Rosary High School and stayed in touch." But last year, Galatkar called Campwala for more than a hello. "He said his childhood friends were returning to the cricket pitch again after a gap of two decades. It was a story worth telling. So I booked a flight and landed in Mumbai in January 2019," adds Campwala, whose Samuel Street—which revolves around middle-aged people struggling in the country's commercial capital—went to Cannes in 2016. Like the Gladiators, Campwala too grew up playing cricket. "And I still play with clubs in the UK. But the Gladiators are different. Between 1994 and 1999, they were the superstars of Mumbai's cricket arena."

The Gladiators was born in the narrow lanes of Wadala's Bombay Port Trust (BPT) Colony in the nineties. While some of their fathers worked at mid-senior positions with BPT, most others were Class IV workers. "None of that hierarchy mattered when we assembled in the colony every evening," says Siddharth Sarmalkar, 39. The boys even played leagues organised by BPT for their employees and family members. Soon, they got better at the game. So they moved their stumps to the Matunga ground.

Siddharth Sarmalkar

Renowned coach Mangesh Bhalekar took them under his wing and the team started playing at the Dadar Parsi Zoroastrian (DPZ) Cricket Club.

But parents weren't always happy. Sarmalkar, especially, got beaten up each time his father found out he was still playing. "We played almost six days a week, and hiding this from family was tough because of the bruises from multiple falls. He wanted me to study and secure a normal job. He saw no future in cricket." But, Sarmalkar played his first-ever match in 1998, albeit with slippers. "My family could not afford shoes or socks."

Pravin More says back in the day, the team would get Parle-G biscuits and a cup of tea after winning a match

While Ajay Ghareniya's parents were supportive, they too, could not afford his cricket dream. "Once I got a chance to play in the school. A day before the match, I went from door-to-door in the colony, asking if I could borrow a white jersey. But nobody had it. So I told my mother, who gave me R150 from her piggy bank." This could buy him a white trouser, but not the T-shirt. So Ghareniya, 39, wore his school shirt to the game the next day. "During the game, the trouser tore beyond repair. I was embarrassed but at least I got to play," he laughs.

And the rewards were not cash prizes or trophies. "If we won a match, we got a Parle-G biscuit and a cup of tea," says Pravin More, 41. Ganesh Phadke, 43, remembers waking up at the crack of dawn to visit Dedh Galli in Chor Bazaar. "My mom once quietly handed me her savings and I bought second-hand white shoes for only Rs 100. We all shared the same pair. We even shared the same socks, pads, caps and white clothes."

Sainath Kargutkar left cricket and worked two shifts at the Indian Airlines as store keeper to buy a house for his wife in Navi Mumbai. The couple is seen in a still from Not Out, directed by British filmmaker Aliakbar Campwala

Their best show was in the 1996 Mans Shield league organised by Port Trust. "We were playing against the Chennai team. We beat them at 176. After a very long time, a team which included Port Trust employees was beaten by another helmed by the kids of employees. It was phenomenal," shares Sainath Kargutkar, 39.

But the heydays of Gladiators ended in 2000. Prashant Jadhav, 42, had to start working when his father passed away. "I was only 18 and was given dad's job at BPT. I could not refuse as I had to take care of six sisters and a widowed mother." Jadhav's mother, however, believed in his passion for cricket and even surprised him with a kit one day. "She did not want me to discontinue. A few days later, my sister told me that the kit was bought from the jewellery my mom had sold. I was in tears. There was no thinking twice about this. I had to quit the game."

Sanjay Pawar created a WhatsApp group last year that brought the whole gang together again. But the team was beaten brutally in the first tournament they played in January 2019

Subsequently, everyone else pulled the plug on their hopes, too. Kargutkar, who secured a job at the Indian Airlines as a store keeper, got a chance to play corporate cricket leagues. "That too ended in 2008, when I had to work two shifts to buy a home for my wife."

Everyone slowly moved out of their BPT homes after their fathers retired and settled in different parts of the city from Parel to Panvel. The boys didn't keep in touch. It was Pawar who brought about the reunion. "We are not fit anymore. We were beaten brutally in the first tournament we played in January 2019, but it got us thinking that we enjoy playing even today," Galatkar says. So, they all made a pact. Sundays are reserved for a match in Matunga. "Galatkar, who now lives in Panvel, wakes up at 4 am to get here. This is the kind of dedication we show. We take the game very seriously," Ghareniya adds.

Ganesh Phadke

Gladiators even returned to the coach who trained them 20 years ago. "We told Bhalekar sir we want to play again, so he gave us a slot and a pitch to play every Sunday. Even now, most of us cannot afford to buy a kit or a proper uniform. But Bhalekar sir has helped us with that too. Without him, this would not have been possible," More says.

The idea is to pass on the legacy to newer kids, who share the same dream as theirs. "We train kids and share our tricks with them. We also try to help underprivileged kids. If they make it to the Indian cricket team, Gladiators would have served its purpose," Sarmalkar, who now coaches the team, says.

But do their families approve their choices now? "With old age kicking in, we trouble our wives with severe injuries or mild backaches. But they love how we have rekindled the cricket affair. They even sponsor our breakfast," Jadhav shares, as the Gladiators sign off.

The proud coach

Mangesh Bhalekar, Dadar Parsi Zoroastrian (DPZ) Cricket Club secretary and recipient of the state and national award, says, "These boys come from underprivileged families, but that did not stop them from playing a good game. They would walk all the way from Wadala to Matunga only for practice matches. Their dedication amazed me. If they had got financial support, they would have qualified for Ranji and other national-level tournaments. I just hope more boys like the Gladiators are encouraged to pursue their dreams. It makes me so happy that the team is back on the pitch, this time though, playing bat and ball just for fun."

Catch up on all the latest Mumbai news, crime news, current affairs, and also a complete guide on Mumbai from food to things to do and events across the city here. Also download the new mid-day Android and iOS apps to get latest updates

"Exciting news! Mid-day is now on WhatsApp Channels Subscribe today by clicking the link and stay updated with the latest news!" Click here!