Few memoirs move as naturally between cricket grounds, radio studios and painting easels as
Different Strokes. Yet Syed Humayun Qaisar’s story is less about an accumulation of
accomplishments than about the habits of mind that sustained them.
Broadcaster, cricketer, painter, mentor and lifelong learner, he writes with the curiosity of an observer rather than the certainty of a man intent on preserving his legacy. The result is a memoir that values character over achievement and reflection over self-congratulation.
Qaisar’s prose carries the unforced rhythm of a seasoned broadcaster. It is conversational
without becoming casual, reflective without slipping into sentimentality. His anecdotes rarely exist for their own sake; instead, they reveal the principles that quietly govern his life. Whether recalling colleagues, mentors or chance encounters, he extends the same generosity to others that he does to himself, allowing people to emerge as individuals rather than supporting
characters in his own story.
A consistent thread running through the memoir is Qaisar’s refusal to compromise his
independence. He rejects shortcuts, patronage and flattery, accepting the professional
consequences without bitterness. What emerges is not the image of a hero, but of a man who
knows that character is formed less by extraordinary moments than by everyday choices.
The memoir traces the gradual formation of that discipline.
Childhood curiosity, the competitive spirit nurtured at Tyndale Biscoe School, intellectual discovery at the Delhi School of Economics, the demands of broadcasting and the challenges of public service all become stages in the making of a temperament rather than milestones in a career. Even youthful mistakes are recounted without self-exoneration, inviting the reader to draw conclusions instead of being instructed what to think.
Among the book’s most engaging episodes is the story of a delayed telegram from Economic
Development Associates (Delhi). Ignoring the apparent finality of a missed interview date,
Qaisar’s father urged him to attend nonetheless—a decision that altered the course of his life.
Equally memorable is his recollection of noticing the Doosra before the delivery had entered cricket’s vocabulary, illustrating the sharp observational instinct that repeatedly distinguishes his account.
Some scenes remain with the reader long after the page is turned: a young broadcaster walking
for hours through knee-deep snow to conduct a live programme; friendships sustained across
decades; mentors remembered with gratitude rather than nostalgia. These episodes never strain for emotional effect. Their quiet restraint gives them their power, revealing a life measured not by dramatic turning points but by perseverance, loyalty and enduring human relationships.
If the memoir has a weakness, it lies in its occasional typos and a minor error in chapter
sequencing. Certain cricket episodes could have benefited from shorter descriptions, allowing
the narrative to move with greater momentum. Even so, these are minor reservations in a work
whose sincerity and observational richness consistently hold the reader’s attention.
What ultimately distinguishes Different Strokes is its refusal to turn experience into mythology.
Qaisar resists the temptation to inflate setbacks into battles or successes into triumphs. Instead, he places equal emphasis on the people who shaped his journey, allowing achievement to find its proper scale within a larger story of family, friendship, mentorship, game and work. The memoir never announces its lessons; they emerge naturally from the choices its author makes and the life he patiently reconstructs.
Though rooted in Srinagar, Different Strokes speaks well beyond its immediate setting. It
preserves the aspirations, values and quiet certainties of a generation while reminding readers that a meaningful life is measured not only by professional success but also by intellectual curiosity, moral independence and the generosity one extends to others.
Engaging, thoughtful and deeply humane, Different Strokes succeeds because it never mistakes accomplishment for significance. It leaves the reader with the portrait of a man who has lived fully across many worlds without allowing any of them to eclipse the qualities that matter most.
In an age increasingly drawn to self-promotion, that quiet confidence feels both refreshing and
enduring.
