MLJ's daughter-in-law Mona had picked me up from the airport. During the hour's drive to their house in beautiful Sainikpuri, Moona gave me all the information about MLJ's last days. How bravely the debonair Jai embraced death, and an even more brave and courageous Junie, Jai's better half for more than four decades. Not many of MLJ's close friends know that Junie's real name is Jayanti. But MLJ loved calling her Junie and the name stuck, conveniently and famously.

I met a fragile Junie, with her back literally broken, in the final two months of Jai's fatal illness. I met Vivek, Vidyut and Jai's widowed sister. There was a visible gloom which could be gauged from observing the two labradors. Dogs convey a lot which human beings can't.But Junie was putting up an unusually brave front. Despite her bad back, with a black belt around it, Junie was omnipresent, supervising every detail of a hectic day.

Ofcourse, there were helpers around, but Junie never behaved like a typical Indian widow, sitting a corner brooding in her sorrow.

If anything, Junie was bubbling with energy and was cheerful. ``That is how Jai wanted me to be,'' Junie smiled effortlessly while pulling out a bottle of Black Label scotch to put next to Jai's portrait during the puja, I asked naively, ``Won't the priest object?'' Junie was suddenly assertive, ``I want all the things he loved next to him while the pandit goes about his business.''

A few family members and friends observed the priest directing Vivek and Vidyut to perform the last rites. A brief sombre ceremony it was and I felt privileged to be part of it. The inner regret was my inability to see Jai in the hospital or after he was discharged. Both Tiger Pataudi and Sunil Gavaskar saw the lion sinking. ``Butthey were both very timid,'' says Junie. ``Perhaps they didn't expect one of their close friends to suffer the way Jai did.'' Jai's brave approached defied the grave disease. From his deathbed, Jai paid a recorded tribute to SMG on his fiftieth birthday.

I met many of Jai's old pals from his Nizam college days. One of them, Ali, could easily do a biography on MLJ. We sat in the compound chatting cricket, while the bar on the terrace was in full swing. I was a bit unfamiliar with such a great tragedy being celebrated. ``But that is exactly how Jai wanted it to be,'' Junie reassured me. Yes, it was one last bash at Jai's residence. The only person missing was the host himself. The hostess made up for the gem in absentia. Junie was not only brave, she was also at her charming best, socialising and greeting every guest with a warm hug and a kiss.

I noticed a spiritual glow on Junie's face, a unique inner strength which allowed her to recollect every moment she lived with MLJ. And how she prohibited everyonein the household from shedding a tear.

I couldn't help asking ``Bobji'', Jai's closest associate, almost his shadow, ``Did he leave behind something for the family?''.

``Yes,'' replied Bobji, ``A very big heart.'' No wonder, I told myself, MLJ was such a popular cricketer. Within a span of one year, Hyderabad lost two greats -- Ghulam Ahmed and ML Jaisimha. They were both very genial and exceptionally good human beings. Hyderabad cricket will never be the same without the duo.

Both Ghulam sahib and MLJ acknowledge cricket is an art, apart from being a game. Both Ghulam and Jai were similar and dissimilar in many ways. For Ghulam, the bureaucrat in him made cricket officialdom a chore. Not so far Jai, for whom cricket was first and foremost a dramatic spectacle, something which belongs to theatre, ballet, opera and dance. However, the two giants of Hyderabad cricket had one thing in common ... the viewpoint that cricket is indeed not a subject for study, but an experience of the spirit to be played withdelight and joy. It is an unfortunate modern trend in certain quarters that cricket is no longer considered just a game or a form of art, but a business, and certain players give the impression that their interest lies more in remuneration than runs.

Jai was still in school when he nearly scored a ton in his Ranji debut. Subsequently, the Indian cricket field has seen no sight more Grecian than the one presented by ML Jaisimha. Jai's remarkable lithe body, mind and personality dominated his generation. No statistician will never do justice to Jai's contribution to Indian cricket. He was an inexhaustible virtuoso at the best of all indoor games -- cricket conversation. And in whose presence you felt it was good to live.

To suggest that MLJ died for his love of alcohol or nicotine is utter rubbish. The great Australian Victor Trumper was a teetotaller and a non-smoker. Yet, he died of acute kidney failure at the age of 37. MLJ's diagnosis of a malignant tumour of the lungs came about a shade too late.Although some believe that MLJ was aware, Junie however, is reluctant to accept this version.

My good friend Abid Ali, now an NRI, tells me he felt something was wrong with Jai's physical appearance as early as the beginning of '98. Be that as it may, the fact remains that MLJ was universally admired, which has given Junie a pleasant surprise and many reasons and the strength to fulfill Jai's incomplete cricket dream -- a clinic for budding youngsters.

``Jai had a natural eye to spot talent,'' Junie says proudly and with a broad smile. Perhaps, the dynamic AP Chief Minister, Chandrababu Naidu, would do well to take Junie into confidence and create an appropriate memorial for the native son of the soil.