Last month, in dusty Moradabad, where narrow by-lanes mingle homogenously with crowded, open markets, I rediscovered a forgotten subject from almost a decade ago.

In a tight T-shirt and black jeans, his hair thinner than I remembered, thicker than I imagined, Mohammad Azharuddin sat in a roomful of starched kurtas, gold chains, and gleaming Blackberrys. He seemed vaguely uncomfortable, like I’d always known him to be, and his warm hello after years of no contact was somehow as surprising as it was expected.

Images from the past flashed before my eyes. Raised collar, mumbled quotes, 182 in Calcutta, trapped lbw for 199 in Kanpur, stretched forward at slip to dismiss Andy Cummins, and then, denying fixing charges, being banned for life, appearing in a court in Hyderabad, not answering his phone anymore.

As we started chatting in the next room, away from the local netas who had assembled to help chart out his campaign, it was clear that Azharuddin was seeking more than an election to the lower house of Parliament. It was his last attempt at redemption, at finally putting the match-fixing nightmare behind him by seeking acceptance from the people he had once wowed with his finesse at the crease.

To this day, Azhar says he had no involvement in match-fixing, but his denial never really counted for much. The media, his former fans, the court — which is still hearing his case — did not give him a reprieve despite numerous dates and repeated appeals.

“After what happened back then in 2000, I wanted to see if people would still come out and support me, and yesterday’s rally here was an eye-opener,” he told me, talking about the record-breaking public reception he had been given in Moradabad. “There were one lakh people on the streets, surely that must count for something. It means that the public still loves me. All the hard work I had put in as a youngster was not in vain.” He was seeking agreement, but it was the most coherent I’d ever known him to be.

... contd.