At the exit point of the arrival hall at the Birsa Munda International Airport in Ranchi stands Francis Xavier Minz, attentively watching every passenger filing in and out of the building. In a philosophical tone, he sums up the nature of the job: “I see everyone coming out of the airport, but hardly anyone notices me. Why should they? I’m just a security guy here, one of the many.”
Some hours ago, he had just watched the India cricketers stream past him after landing in their private jet. No one recognised him, even though he watched them in admiration, as they tugged their kit-bags along. But his heart swelled with joy and pride. For someday, he hopes, his son Robin would be one among them.
The 19-year-old batsman, the first tribal cricketer with an IPL contract, already has become one of the league’s million-dollar babies, after Gujarat Titans shelled out Rs 3.60 crore to acquire his signature in the auction a few months ago. But Francis knows how long and arduous the path to the Indian team is. “He has just started. The world has just about registered his name. Raasta abhi bhi lamba hain (the route to the Indian team is still a long way away),” he says.
Just then a couple of youngsters pass through the entrance. He stops and asks them to show their IDs, which he inspects attentively. “This is my job, to ensure that no one who has left the airport re-enters without an ID. You never know who has a gun in his hand. One lapse and I would lose my job,” he says. As an afterthought, he adds: “I cannot be lax because my son is an IPL cricketer. Of course, there is more financial security in the family, but you never know how life would turn out to be. A lot of my colleagues ask me why I need to work anymore. But I tell them I will keep working as long as I feel like working and I am healthy,” he says.
Francis has been working and earning as long as he can remember. In his early teens, he performed odd jobs to sustain the family in his ancestral village, Telgaon in Gumla district, before he enrolled in the Army at the stroke of the century, just when the southern part of Bihar was carved into Jharkhand. “I don’t get sleep if I haven’t earned something for myself,” he says. Nearly two decades in the army — in the 9 Bihar Regiment, posted in Naxalite-hit areas of the state — has instilled in him a fierce sense of pride. “Whatever has changed, it’s only from the outside,” he adds.
The more life has changed on the outside, the more it has remained the same. “We still live in the same house. I still drive the same bike. It’s a decent house, so we have not even thought of moving or buying a bigger one. Fortunately, Robin too has remained the same. He knows he has to keep working hard, and cannot be carried away. He is still the same old boy of ours,” he says.
Francis has been working and earning as long as he can remember. In his early teens, he performed odd jobs to sustain the family in his ancestral village, Telgaon in Gumla district, before he enrolled in the Army at the stroke of the century, just when the southern part of Bihar was carved into Jharkhand.
Living his own dream
Somewhere deep inside, though, Francis is realising his own unfulfilled dream of becoming a sportsman. “Everyone knows the story. I played hockey and football in my village, and sometimes competed in athletics too. The SAI centre in Delhi called me for a football camp, but I couldn’t join because I didn’t have a photo of me at that time. My village didn’t have a studio. Then I didn’t pursue further. There was no time for it,” he says. The struggle to earn a livelihood was staring at his face.
His love for sports, though, remained undiminished. A certain long-haired swashbuckler from Ranchi would fuel it further. Francis admits he is a Dhoni-tragic. “Ham sab hain (all of us are).” For a long time, Dhoni has known him. He used to give Robin cricket shoes and gear. A few days before the auction, the former India captain assured him that if no team picked him, Chennai Super Kings would.
Such a day though was unimaginable when Francis carved a bat out of wood for his son when he was a child. Seeing how good he was —“a natural hitter”— he brought him a tennis-ball cricket bat. “He always played cricket and then the idea struck me to put him in a coaching academy. And God bless, it worked,” he says.
Then he simply let him be, let his son find out how good or bad he was at the game. He was not a pushy father, who would watch every practice session of him or ask him how much he scored in a game. He offered just one piece of advice: “Whatever you do, do it with love and heart, 100 percent commitment.” So far, his son has lived up to his father’s words. And one day, he hopes to see him pass through these same gates as an India cricketer. And one day, more people would recognise him as the father of Robin Minz.