Idol Worship

HE IS SARAVANAN HARI, self-anointed ‘super fan’ of Chennai Super Kings and Dhoni. They aren’t just franchise and cricketer to him, but, as he tells me later, ‘ennoda kannu maathiri’ (precious like my eyes). On match days at Chepauk—IPL or otherwise— Saravanan paints himself from forehead to stomach in CSK’s yellow, the logo of the team’s main sponsor then meticulously added with more brushstrokes over his ample belly. He com­pletes the look with a thick fake moustache and fat eyebrows, topped off with a curly wig, looking very much like a southern matinee star from yesteryear. In many respects, his deadly commitment to fandom is not out of place here; it is a physical manifestation of the intense devotion the people of Tamil Nadu tend to show their heroes. The culture of idol worshipping a celebrity is most common­place, and the worship is amplified during the release of a Rajinikanth movie, where many thousands of litres of milk are poured over the superstar’s cut-outs and posters outside cinema halls all across the state in the form of ‘paal abhishekam’ or milk offerings to these human gods.

Saravanan informs me over a WhatsApp message that he is waiting for me right outside Pattabhiraman Gate. There’s no one in signature body paint, but he is easy enough to identify even in plain clothes. A group of fans is huddled around his scooter, tak­ing turns to shake his hand. But no pictures are taken; the selfie, he tells me, only has value on social media if he is in his get-up. ‘How did they know it was you?’ I ask as I climb on to the pillion seat of his Honda Activa.

‘I will tell you!’ he yells over his shoulder as we zig and zag through the late afternoon traffic on Mount Road. ‘In 2018 there were massive protests all across this city over the Cauvery water issue. The protestors had demanded that IPL matches not be played in Chennai until the Cauvery Management Board was formed. But the matches happened anyway and I, of course, attended them, in my role of mascot. Some thugs protesting outside the stadium were very upset so they beat me up, seven or eight of them kicking me, punching me, roughing me up right outside the ground to make a statement. Of course, by the time the news channels arrived, I had cleaned up, looking the way I do right now. That’s when people all around Chennai saw the man behind the mask. Now some have started recognizing me without the paint on. But remember, I did not fight back that day only because I wanted to protect Dhoni and CSK’s name. That’s whom I represent in my super-fan avatar.’

This escalated quickly, I think, but rapid occurrences of great drama seem to be the theme of Saravanan Hari’s life, each of these events having a cascading effect on the public personality he has become today. We stop at the plainly named Chennai Coffee on Mount Road (it comes with two subheads, the first ‘Signature Coffee Shop’ and below it ‘Quality Veg Restaurant’), where he tosses his scooter key (the keychain is a rubber CSK Dhoni jersey) on the marble-top table for four and grandly suggests, ‘Ask me anything. I will tell you.’ So, I do, and between sips of filter coffee from steel tumblers and mouthfuls of perfectly textured plain dosais (not too crisp, not too soft) he begins to arrange his life into acts and scenes.

The first dramatic turn occurs in 2010 when he, a twenty-five-year-old working for a cement company (it isn’t India Cements, I asked), fell asleep at the handle of his bike while re­turning home to Washermanpet in the north of Chennai. The two-wheeler was totalled and so was his leg, which needed the insertion of a metal plate with screws. This had him bedridden for the better chunk of two years, which cost him his job. ‘I am from a very poor family, my father was an autorickshaw driver, so there was no income,’ he says. ‘But I have very good friends, they gave me money to keep the household going.’

In bed, cricket on TV was his only company, his only escape from a punishing existence. While watching the 2011 World Cup he fantasized of one day walking, on his own two feet, into Chepauk and watching from the stands. The leg had healed enough by the time the 2013 IPL rolled into town, so he decided to do something drastic. ‘Something to make me stand out, because only I knew how much I had dreamed of this day. But I still didn’t know what special thing I was going to do. I had already left for the ground to watch CSK’s opening game, against Mumbai Indians. This was 6 April, I will always remember that date, when at Parry’s Corner, I suggested to my friend Sathish that I paint myself from head to toe, canvas shoes also, in the yellow of CSK.

‘It was like a light bulb went off in my head. So, we stopped at a paint store and Sathish and I started slathering me with paint. Today it takes four hours to paint the body correctly, and half an hour for the face alone. But that day we were very fast. Anyway, next door, there was a wig shop, so I thought why not. And like that, fully yellow, we rode to the stadium and parked near Wallajah Road. And from the moment other fans saw me, they got happy. I was putting smiles on their faces. Then in the stands, lots of spectators came and took pictures with me. I felt good, they felt good. I looked at Sathish and said, “I think I should do this for every game.” The next home game was against Bangalore. RCB [Royal Challengers Bengaluru]. I once again went in my yellow paint, but this time I added Dhoni sir’s name and shirt number too, in blue. And this time, the TV cameras kept focusing on me. I only thought I was on the big screen. But everyone on TV saw me too. That day I became famous.’

Every match that season, he was asked if he had met his idol. Fed up of saying no, he decided to do something about it. He rode to the gates of the Crowne Plaza hotel after CSK’s last home game without his painted get-up. ‘But it was a five-star hotel; super hotel; super-duper hotel; I stood outside from 8 a.m. to 2 p.m., too shy and afraid to go into the lobby but hoping against hope that Dhoni sir steps outside and I get to meet him. Just when I was about to give up and leave, Russell [Radhakrishnan, CSK team manager] sir walked outside, and I introduced myself, showing him a picture of me in my yellow avatar on my phone. He was very appreciative of my efforts in supporting CSK, but said Dhoni sir wouldn’t just walk outside and that he couldn’t take me to meet him due to security reasons. After he left, I had the courage to continue waiting, this time inside the lobby.’

It didn’t last long, for Saravanan was watched with suspi­cion by the team’s security and first threatened, then roughed up and thrown outside. ‘He pushed me and said, “nee veliya polena onna suttuduven” (if you don’t go outside I will shoot you). I was so frightened I was leaving, when a man watching all of this stopped me. His name is Prabhu Damodaran and he posted a tweet about CSK’s biggest fan who only wanted to see Dhoni but had to face grave threats to his life. Immediately, I received a message from CSK apologizing for the way I was treated that day. They even invited me to their office and interviewed me. How many such great teams are there, who will listen to the common fan and make him feel better? That was the day my relationship with CSK began.’

The relationship has been a most fruitful one, with the franchise having sponsored his travels to the 2019 World Cup in England and the 2021 T20 World Cup in the United Arab Emirates. But in the story thus far, he hasn’t yet met Dhoni sir, I point out. ‘Wait, wait, I’ll tell you. It is a good story,’ he says, and recalls the day that felt like his rebirth into this world. ‘This is during the 2014 IPL season, and I was at the airport in Cuttack, returning home after a match between CSK and Kings XI Punjab, when a man walked up to me and said he was a manager with Aircel, CSK’s primary sponsors then. There was to be a CSK event hosted by Aircel in Bangalore, and he wanted me to be a guest. How could I say no?’

So, flights were changed last minute and a freshly yel­lowed Saravanan was produced backstage at the event in ITC Galleria, where he was told that he would be introducing Dhoni to the audience. ‘I didn’t know he was going to be there! I burst out crying, smudging my face paint. Somehow I man­aged to stop crying long enough to have my face touched up. Just as I was getting up to go stand near the stage area, it felt like god himself had appeared in front of me. Again, I started weeping like a baby, but this time I was prostrated on the floor and touching my god’s feet. It was the greatest moment of my life, I tell you. Dhoni sir made me get up and spoke to me. I will never forget that. It was like an out-of-body experience. The blessings I received from him that day is what has made me the figure I am today. I am leading a great life now.’

He now gets regular invites to attend birthday parties and weddings as a special paid guest. But what did Dhoni tell him that day, I ask. ‘Oh, I don’t know sir. He spoke in Hindi, which I cannot understand. To this day I have no idea!’

There have been many interactions since, but it is Saravanan’s first brush with his hero that he has made his profile picture on WhatsApp. As he speaks, I look at that picture again, and now the dry streaks of tears thinning the paint by his cheeks are quite evident. ‘I have left my best Dhoni sir story for last,’ he says and charges into his narration. ‘In 2015, I got married to Renuka Devi, and in 2016, we were blessed with a baby girl . . . ’ I interrupt him and ask if the day he met Dhoni is more special than when his child was born. He laughs, wagging a finger at me.

‘You are trying to get me into trouble, but let me finish, sir, everything will be clear, okay?’ After being assured of my silence till the story ends, he continues, ‘So, in 2016, the day my child was born, I texted Dhoni sir’s manager to share the good news. He replied saying Dhoni sir is in fact in Chennai, so I left my wife and newborn to go receive his blessings at the hotel he was staying in . . . ’

Wait, he what?

‘Let me finish, sir. Dhoni sir was angry that I had come all the way. But I explained that it was a government hospital and that male members weren’t allowed to wait inside the materni­ty ward. Still, he insisted that I go back to them right away, but I told him that I can’t leave till he names my child. And the name has to begin with the letter “D”.’

Dhoni named her Diya.

Saravanan’s fanaticism is all-consuming, to the point that other patrons at Chennai Coffee are now listening to him, some smiling, others nodding along. To the room at large he turns his head and says, ‘My mother is CSK, my father is cricket and my god is Dhoni. The day I stop going to matches, the day I stop painting myself, will be the end of my life.’ I ask him what he went through, then, when his mother was banned from the IPL for two years due to spot-fixing, and Saravanan turns ashen. ‘I felt like someone close to me had passed away. I cried. Even Dhoni sir cried. It is something I try and forget but cannot.’

I change the topic, but stumble on to another landmine— the pandemic years and the time of closed-door sports events. I assume Saravanan would have been greatly affected. ‘Firstly, there was this overwhelming fear if we would live to see the future. But that future made little sense if I could not be in the stands of Chepauk watching a live match. I really thought we would never be able to go to the ground again,’ he says, blinking back tears. ‘All that is now behind us, sir. Not only is everything back to normal, it is better than normal, with the World Cup being played in this country, in Chepauk. You just go tomorrow and see, sir, Chennai has the best fans in the world. Best. We will cheer even for the opposition. You just go and see.’

I say I will. And with that, we head in our respective direc­tions, through the chaotic streets that have been drenched by a fresh spell of rain.

(This is an edited excerpt from Gully Gully: Travels around India during the 2023 World Cup by Aditya Iyer. Iyer is a senior editor at Open)

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