Dios Dharisanam
First there was god, then there were was light
If you’re ever in Naples, take the arterial Corso Umberto I with the sea breeze on your right shoulder. Turn left at Via Mezzocannone, push through 200 meters of that narrow lane, then take a right into the even tighter Pizzaneta Nilo. You’ll arrive at Bar Nilo. It’s a quintessentially Neapolitan Bar - pizza and coffee on the menu, walls painted into a living scrapbook of jerseys and merchandise from the city’s soul, it’s football club, Napoli. Once you’re done sampling their food, on your way out, ask the man behind the counter for the nearest shrine. He’ll take you to the bar’s outer wall. You’ll see it - a small altar, and on it, Diego Armando Maradona in a Napoli shirt, immortalised.
In the summer of 1984, when Maradona and Barcelona pulled the plug on a toxic two-year relationship, half the football world dropped to their knees to get the Argentine’s signature. The Milan clubs, Bayern Munich, Juventus, you name it. Maradona, bizarrely, chose Napoli. It was a divine coming together of a poor, neglected city in the southern coast of Italy with an outsider who grew up under the air of poverty and exclusion.
Naples carried ancient wounds. As Giuseppe Garibaldi’s unification campaign swept through the Kingdom of the Two Sicilies, Naples found itself marginalised by the new northern rulers. The once-thriving cultural and economic hub struggled under policies that disproportionately favoured northern Italy, leaving the city having to scrape for its means, its people forced to subsist on economic crumbs. Even Mt. Vesuvius, the active volcano overlooking the city, was turned into a metaphor for chaos and destruction in Italian literature.
Having the world’s best footballer play for them was a huge deal. When Maradona descended from the heavens that July day, touching down in a helicopter onto Stadio San Paolo’s patchy turf, 75,000 parched throats gathered to witness their messiah taking his first steps amongst the commoners. One reporter, present at the scene, captured the mood: “Despite a lack of mayor, houses, schools, buses, employment and sanitation, none of this matters because we have Maradona.”
Maradona spearheaded Napoli to two league titles, a European title, and regular victories against the northern powerhouses that had, for generations, regarded Naples and Napoli as Italy’s backwater. The wealth differential - both financial and technical - dissolved beneath Maradona's left foot.
“That whole North versus South battle made me stronger,” Maradona confessed in his autobiography. “I like to fight for a cause. And if it’s the cause of the poor, all the better.” Footballer, magician, revolutionary, redeemer.
El Dios. God.
During the 1990 FIFA World Cup, fate wrote a delicious script, pitting Maradona’s Argentina against Italy in a semi-final at Naples. Before the game, Maradona used his six years of Neapolitan familiarity to poke the crowd into supporting the Argentines. Argentina won that night. Depending on whom you ask, Naples was either overjoyed or silently happy. In November 2020, days after Maradona’s passing, the Mayor of Naples announced that the Stadio San Paolo will be renamed the Stadio Diego Armando Maradona.
I have a theory. Actually, a bet. Within the next fifteen years, the MA Chidambaram Stadium in Chennai will be renamed to the Mahendra Singh Dhoni Stadium.
I know, I know. You saw this coming. This is the festive season, and we have returned to talk about our familiar gods, like the annual reading of ancient texts. But, what if the story got new pages every year, new layers of plot and glory that push the mythology even further?
This week, Chennai Super Kings announced MS Dhoni as their stand-in captain for the rest of the IPL 2025 season, after captain Ruturaj Gaikwad suffered an elbow fracture.1
As I write this, the Chennai Super Kings are going through their warm-up drills before facing the Kolkata Knight Riders. It’s one of those nights I wish I experienced in person. Last season, the decibel meter hit 112 dB when Dhoni walked out to bat against Punjab Kings. This is a Friday evening game with Thala back in command - Chepauk will be heaving. Before the coin toss, the broadcaster runs a montage of Dhoni flipping the coin over the years, a visual timeline that stretches from Sachin Tendulkar to Shreyas Iyer.
Sairam Krishnan has been a CSK fan since the day the team first walked out for a cricket match. He is my first port of call for anything Chennai, CSK, or Dhoni.
“Does it feel right? Only in a certain way. I mean, we’re having the worst start to a season we have ever had. And this is Dhoni’s team. A lot of the decisions have been his and Fleming’s. So, in a way, it’s fair that he sort of gives us a couple of moments of magic. Maybe he can guide us to a couple of old-school CSK wins.”
Toss time. Ravi Shastri lets rip a voice that should be used to test woofer systems, calling Dhoni “Thallah” because he can. KKR captain Ajinkya Rahane’s name has been butchered, but even Shastri is barely audible above the screeching and the whistles. Dhoni has a half-smile on his face. Something about him as captain just makes for a good frame. Even in 2025, even as the rest of the world has moved to people who were born after he made his international debut. I think he feels it too. On commentary, an ex-Indian cricketer mentions that the entire galaxy - not world, mind - was manifesting this, the sight of Dhoni leading out the yellow brigade.
Chennai and CSK remain curiously, stubbornly, devoted to this one man. They have opened the book, ordered the quills and ink pots, certain that there are more pages to be added to this story that will never end.
The First Page
Some mythologies have unlikely beginnings.
Mahendra Singh Dhoni was an accidental cricketer, born after a school coach asked if he wanted to leave goalkeeping for a bit to try this other sport. In the international team, he was an accidental middle-order batter, born after his captain thought that this boy from Jharkhand has “dum” (a cocktail of power and courage), and dum can only be explored high in the batting order. He was then an accidental captain, born after the mother of all implosions wrecked Indian cricket, leaving a shattered dressing room and senior players reluctant to take the helm.
Months after inheriting cricket’s most suffocating responsibility, he returned home holding a gleaming T20 World Cup trophy. A few months later, he won a tri-series in Australia, beating the hosts 2-0 in the three-legged final.
There are naturals, and then there is whatever this fellow was.
At the first ever IPL auction, when the capsule with Dhoni’s name came up, it was obvious that every franchise would be part of the bidding war. As CSK chairman N. Srinivasan kept raising the bid, only Mumbai Indians remained in competition, until they too decided to keep their paddle down. One raised hand left in the room, MS Dhoni was Chennai Super Kings’ inaugural signing. The captaincy was merely procedural.
“When he arrived at CSK, Dhoni was already a fully formed fan magnet: a world-class keeper-batter with a unique, crowd-pleasing style and a proven track record in all three formats, and a captain with a T20 World Cup already in his cabinet.” - Karthik Krishnaswamy, here
Chennai Super Kings, from day one, draped Dhoni’s ways onto themselves, building a perceptive and smart franchise, willing to walk paths others wouldn’t. Cricket is a captain’s game anyway, but after a point, CSK and Dhoni became almost indistinguishable.2
Those guys got a lot - a LOT - of cricketing decisions right. For instance, when you think of T20 cricket, you wouldn’t think of Murali Vijay, Mike Hussey, Matthew Hayden, or Subramanian Badrinath. CSK and Dhoni did. What others saw as sluggish, CSK saw as experienced. They worked off a theory that in a breathless tournament, where the pressure is disproportionate and relentless, a player with a decade’s experience is going to be invaluable. They got a head coach who spent all his playing career pushing himself and his team beyond boundaries. Dhoniesque.
Chennai breathes cricket. You feel it in the bylanes and the clay-covered grounds, in the quiet observation of an India match at a tea stall, and at international games where you will suddenly land into a discussion about loop and drift with your neighbour. The crowd that comes to watch cricket at the Chepauk has a unique moniker: The Knowledgeable Chennai Crowd. They don’t pay for mindless entertainment, for one six here and another there; they expect a serious team with serious cricketers.
The Endless Hero’s Arc
For decades, one had to squint to find a Tamil Nadu player in the India men’s team. Despite the state’s rich cricketing heritage, it rarely translated to national representation. A Venkataraghavan here, a Sadagoppan Ramesh there, a fleeting dalliance with Laxman Sivaramakrishnan, but that was about it.
There was also the distance at a cultural level. Amongst the Indian metropolitan cities, Chennai was an afterthought, incomparable to what Delhi, Mumbai, and Bangalore offered, maybe even Calcutta. Those moving to Chennai for work, especially from other metros, was counselled against it, warned about the weather and the food.
When the first IPL franchises were being bought, we didn’t even bother to look at them. Let’s face it - no matter who bought the Chennai franchise, what chance did they have against Shah Rukh Khan’s Kolkata, the Ambanis’ Mumbai, or Vijay Mallaya’s Bangalore? Cricket’s royalty – Sachin, Sourav, Kumble, Dravid, Kallis, de Villiers, McGrath, Warne, Gilchrist – also went elsewhere. Seriously, what realistic chance did Chennai - this humid, nerdy, chess-loving outpost on India’s southeastern fringe - truly have?
And then, Dhoni.
Dhoni and CSK won with metronomic consistency. Sometimes, it felt like they were discovering new ways to win, stealing games from positions where the opposition were already celebrating. CSK reached the playoffs in every season they played until 2020. They still hold the record for the most IPL titles, all won under Dhoni. And Dhoni himself holds the competition record for the highest ever win-rate for a captain. He just won. This one time, he lifted two IPL trophies and an ODI World Cup trophy within twelve months. In two more years, there was another IPL trophy and a Champions Trophy with India. By then, CSK’s success reflected in the India team too. There were days when India fielded a starting XI with five CSK players.
In all this while, Dhoni was also one of the best cricketers in the world. As a batter, he was at the top of the pile, amongst the most feared and respected; as a wicketkeeper and captain, he was peerless.
It was impossible not to be in awe, but Chennai - the city and the team - had gone beyond that. It was now his kingdom. He was the most important cricketer in the world, and he was theirs. He brought them deliverance.
And he achieved everything without showbiz theatrics - no gold chains, no profane outbursts, no tabloid liaisons with Bollywood starlets. He came, played, and left. Dhoni felt accessible, not in a bump-into-at-Saravana Bhavan way, but someone you could aspire to become. And touched a people who cherish simplicity.
“MS is the story we will tell our children when we tell them what is open to them in this world, what is possible. If only you could put your mind to it, if only you work hard, very hard. You can be captain of India. You can build a rocket. You can be an Olympian. You can build a company. You can help people. You can do anything you want.” - Sairam, in a lovely essay here.
Software Update
For the city and the team, Dhoni was their chosen leader, their route to unprecedented glory, but the team was always their pride. That came first.
Until now.
Dharisanam. A reference to the Hindu ritual of the first sighting of a deity at a temple. Tamil cinema - especially the 21st century, megastar-as-centrepiece kind - frequently borrows from the idea. These days, CSK have become a touring temple roadshow, a dharisanam on wheels. If you attend a CSK game now, you’ll hear the yellow army erupt in celebration at the failure of yellow-wearing batters, because it could summon their god to the crease. The DJ plays along, evoking superheroes and ghosts and mythical creatures. When N. Srinivasan said, “There is no CSK without Dhoni,” you understood what he meant, but never thought it could translate to this.
Couple of days back, in the moments after Gaikwad’s injury was communicated, there was a celebratory air around the Chennai Super Kings social media, their fans, and many ex-players. Such was the elation and anticipation that even their star batter and team captain was now ancillary. Ambati Rayudu, ex-CSK and a Dhoni-loyal of many years, was practically frothing at the mouth at the prospect of Thala leading the yellow army, suggesting on commentary that the bat he held was actually a sword and he was going to unleash thunder and lightning that night.3
It’s now a bit too farcical, a bit too much of a satire skit. At last year’s auction, when CSK had the chance to build a team for the future, maybe for the next five years, they built a unit that would’ve been the envy of the world in, I don’t know, 2012. Then, in a team that glaringly lacked big hitters, CSK bought none, trusting Dhoni with acceleration towards the end of an innings. Except, Dhoni doesn’t bat much these days. On a good day, he will come out for 10-12 balls.
CSK have, amazingly, ended up in a situation where Ravindra Jadeja and Ravichandran Ashwin are batting for them in the middle overs of T20 games - a sentence I did not think was likely to be written in 2025. Some of the smarter buys from the auction, like Nathan Ellis and Sam Curran, cannot find a space in the starting lineup.
In all fairness, Jadeja, Ashwin, Dhoni, Vijay Shankar, Deepak Hooda can still be valuable individual additions to strong teams; to have them together as the core is, how do I say this, wild.
“They should have built a team for the future,” Sairam says. “But, it cannot happen when MS is still in the team. Why? Because the legacy is so huge, the brains behind so many of these trophies is still functional, still very sharp. Any captain who comes along cannot put their own stamp on a team unless and until there is clean line drawn between MS Dhoni’s CSK and the next captain’s CSK.”
It has always been the CSK-Dhoni way to turn loyalty into a winning tactic, but they have now turned it into a blind spot. And, contrary to what all this might sound like, very little of the mess lands at Dhoni’s feet.
Dhoni will be 44 this July. For ten months in the calendar, he is an ex-cricketer, cocooning himself in his Ranchi farmhouse. Guy doesn’t play any cricket outside the IPL, neither does he take up coaching or broadcasting assignments. That he is still playing competitive cricket is crazy enough; that he is one of the best wicketkeepers in the league is objectively insane; that he is still, sometimes, able to hit 145 kmph international bowlers for sixes is straight up absurdist humour.
Another weird thing happens around Dhoni. Some years back, Jarrod Kimber spoke about it as the Gayle Effect. Chris Gayle not only plundered runs at a ridiculous rate, he made bowlers bowl worse to him. Watch bowlers, good bowlers, bowl to Dhoni at this year's IPL, and you will see them lose line and length, bowl wides and no balls out of nowhere. How do you explain that?
I can write a 3000-word thinkpiece and argue that hedging your bets on a 43 year-old full-time strawberry farmer may not be the most optimal way of running a sports team. And those with a serious CSK or Dhoni inclination will point me to the final overs from CSK’s game against the Punjab Kings. There is a fair statistical argument about the frequency and the impact of his hitting, but clearly, some traces of his dum are still alive.
At a level, you understand the sense of awe, even today. How does one not? The natural instinct for cricket and wisdom is one thing, but there is something to be said about his technical talent that refuses to leave his shoulders even as the eyes slow down and the waist shows a few extra inches.
Look, fans are always going to be emotional. That’s how we roll. For those who reach the top of their craft, become supernaturals, the nature of fandom - in our land of kings and gods and godmen and superstars - is skewed towards complete, head-bowed reverence. We are a country with unresolved authority and daddy issues, and that manifests in curious ways.
But it feels so weird to see an entire team - who, for so long, set an example of marrying emotion with ambition - seemingly lay prone at an individual’s feet.
In 2025, Dhoni is the subject of uncomfortable conversations. Are they maximising his availability? Are they placing enough accountability on him, or is he given complete autonomy ? How can a head coach come out and say that their middle-order batter and wicketkeeper decides his batting position based on, erm, vibes?
Where’s the succession-planning in a squad that has a core of players almost as old as the first Macintosh computer?
This evening, against the Kolkata Knight Riders, Dhoni came out to bat after CSK had lost seven wickets for a meagre 72 runs. He plodded along for three balls and got out on his fourth. His team got bundled out for 102, and then got walloped in 10 overs. It was their third consecutive loss on their own patch.4 Should Dhoni have come earlier to arrest the slide? Could he have?
It is a credit to Dhoni the athlete that the conversation around him, outside the yellow echo chamber, is that he should bat higher, that he should take on a bigger role for the team. And it is as much a mockery of the legacy he built as a captain that an entire organisation, and maybe even him, should be so in thrall of reputations. Dhoni was objective - rightly so - with Dravid, Kumble, Laxman, Sehwag and Tendulkar, when nobody else in the Indian cricket ecosystem had adequately-sized balls. A 28-year-old Dhoni would not select half the current CSK squad, and think twenty-five times before shoehorning his 43-year-old self into an already dysfunctional team.
At 43, Dhoni’s allowed to indulge, of course he is. As are CSK. But the line between indulgence and unhealthiness is about as wide as a paddle’s handle. Making Dhoni the centre of your franchise, at his age, is a sign that you have gone past the point where a few extra runs can help your fitness. You need a dietary detox and a full week at a wellness retreat where any colour other than white is not allowed to exist.
It’s a hard one. Both Dhoni and CSK are finding it difficult to let go, to look reality in the face and build around it, not try to fight it. Until such time as the penny drops, Dhoni at the Chepauk remains one of the most incredible sensory experiences in the IPL. If you can, find a ticket, then make your way to the Victoria Hostel Road in Chennai on a matchday. And remember my bet. We’ll come back to this in fifteen years’ time.
Depending on which part of the internet you visit, it’s either a serious injury that has ruled a good batter out, or an “injury” which allows him to keep playing football like nothing happened.
It wouldn’t be crazy to suggest Dhoni had a say in which sponsors got a sticker on the left sleeve of the CSK jersey.
Rayudu, funnily enough, has been amongst a handful of players who have called out the pinch that they feel when their own crowd celebrates their failure.
Great read!