Sanju Samson's Coastal Childhood: Fisherman Grandfather's Wisdom and Kerala's Sea
The eyes of Anthonis, the maternal grandfather of Indian cricketer Sanju Samson, hold a stoic calm reminiscent of the sea that hums behind the brown wooden windows of his kitchen during the forenoon lull. These eyes have witnessed and endured savage tidal waves crashing against his home, communal riots on the once-beatific shores in the 1990s, the devastating floods of 2018, and the encroachment of mechanised fishing trawlers. Yet, they well up with joyful tears whenever he speaks of Sanju, reminiscing about his childhood and the bittersweet journey of raising him.
A Village That Believed: Vizhinjam's Role in Samson's Journey
Anthonis now resides in his son's house in the Nooruveedu Colony, commonly known as Tsunami Colony, a modest dwelling painted in bright blue where victims of what locals call the "revenge of the waves" were rehabilitated. When Sanju was young, he lived in a house near the bend towards Ursuline Convent, with his grandparents and maternal uncles just a few rows away. "In a way, I was happy when they shifted from Delhi to home, because I could see Sally and Sanju more frequently. I had seldom spent time with them," Anthonis recalls, his words stuttering with a thick local accent—a unique blend of Tamil and Malayalam—that now accelerates like a whistling speedboat.
The sea kept Anthonis busy for most seasons, as it did for hundreds of families in Vizhinjam, an ancient fishing harbour now rebranded as Adani Vizhinjam Port. Today, the colossal gantry cranes and straddle carriers of the modernised container port overlook a rectangular patch of land near the beach. "It was Sanju's first ground here. Back then, it was just sand. When his father was away, or if I was not busy, I used to take both kids there and play football with them. Just kicking here and there on the sands. They would then introduce me to this strange game, cricket. I still don't know the rules; I used to just throw the ball at them," he recounts with a smile.
Life Lessons from the Sea: Ebbs and Flows of Cricket
Now, Anthonis watches cricket games only when Sanju is batting. "He gets really nervous," chimes in Anitha, Sanju's aunt, noting how he becomes depressed when Sanju gets out cheaply and overjoyed when he scores big. When Sanju and his brother grew tired, their grandfather would take them to the beaches, where multicoloured wooden canoes and small-engine boats—many bearing paintings of St Antony, from which Anthonis's name is derived—lay exhausted from the day's toils. "He would ask me why the waves are angry at times. I would tell him, they are like us, sometimes happy and sometimes angry. That is life," Anthonis remembers.
A few years ago, Sanju reminded him of these words when Anthonis questioned why he was getting out for ducks in certain games. Sanju responded, "There is a god in Indian cricket, Sachin Tendulkar. He too gets out for zeroes. I am still young." Anthonis was delighted that Sanju remembered his advice—more a casual line than formal counsel—and integrated it into his game. He draws a parallel to fishing, where there are days of abundant catch and others with dry nets, even though he hasn't ventured to sea for nearly 13 years. Regardless of feast or famine, he always set aside a share of his finest spoils for Sanju and his brother.
Inherited Strength: The Fishing Town's Influence on Samson's Fitness
The sea and its stories captivated Sanju. "He calmly listened to my adventures, the close shaves I had, the waters I braved," Anthonis says, noting that the sea serves as a metaphor for their destiny. He always wanted to go deep into the sea, but Anthonis recalls, "I have taken Sally, but not Sanju, into the sea, though he always wanted to and kept pleading with me. Maybe, one day I will." He never doted on his grandson in the typical grandfatherly way, never buying him a cricket bat, though he remembers carving one from the oars of a boat. Instead, he cared for him by instilling valuable life lessons and virtues.
"Here in the fishing town, no one teaches anyone anything. Children just follow their parents and uncles. They watch and pick it up. It's the order of nature here. You have to be strong and brave," Anthonis asserts. The terrain, with its steep slopes, naturally nurtures fitness and endurance. Running and walking on sand developed strong legs and a robust lower body. In a recent speech to teenagers on the shores that raised him, Sanju reflected on this natural bearing: "People here have a rare strength and courage. The world should see it." This strength isn't always visible as sculpted biceps or square shoulders; it's more raw and crude. Anthonis's handshakes feel like a clutch from hands of iron. "We have an agile body because we have to be light on our feet on the boat, yet strong enough to fling the nets into the distance and powerful enough to pull them back. Sanju has inherited it," he says, noting that like him, Sanju has thick, strong forearms and stocky shoulders.
Community Support: The Village That Backed a Future Star
The sight of Anthonis tagging his grandsons along to the beach was common for locals. Both Anthonis and Sanju were popular figures, often pausing at Benny Pereira's shop. "Sometimes, I would give him candy or soda. But he would always ask me about the next game we were playing. I was his father's friend and played football with him. He always wanted to play, one sport or the other," Benny remembers. Passers-by were amused to see the Samson boys walking uphill with their kits to the bus stand, a mile from their old home. Sometimes, an auto-rickshaw driver would offer them a lift to the bus stand, from where they'd take a bus to the Medical College Ground, coached by veteran Biju George, or someone would accommodate them on a double pillion.
"We are a close-knit community. Everyone knows everyone. Everyone helps each other out. We have gone through many tragedies, where we had only ourselves to lean on," Benny explains. This intangible yet immense and unconditional support system played a crucial role. Sanju acknowledged this in an emotional return to his roots a fortnight ago, inaugurating a sports event. "Among the crowd, I can see the faces that once told me, when I was nobody and just a kid, that I could play for India. I am always thankful to them," he said. Sitting beside him on the dais was Anthonis, his battle-hardened eyes brimming with joy. "Blessings of Mother Sea and St Antony," he murmurs, tuning his ears to the grating waves lashing the rocks on the beach.
