The cricket world’s grief for Nana Patekar isn’t just about losing a star; it’s about losing a man who cared across borders. Former Pakistan international Basit Ali dropped a video that hits harder than any six hit in a final. Their story didn’t start on a pitch, but in 1994. It started with a nickname. Ali’s friend Latif was called 'Nana' after the actor, which opened the door to a conversation that lasted thirty years. But the real test of that friendship came when Ali’s mother fell ill.
Patekar didn’t just send a card. He called. Weekly. While Ali’s mother was hospitalized, the veteran actor spent hours on the phone with her, listening to old stories and offering prayers. “When my mother passed away, he told me, ‘Hey Basit, take care of yourself now,’” Ali recalled in his tribute. That wasn’t a celebrity doing PR. That was a friend showing up when it mattered most. Even after Ali suffered a heart issue himself, Patekar checked in, asking specifically about the stent placement. The man who played ruthless crime bosses in Parinda was gentle with his friends.
Patekar’s death at Manipal Hospital in Goa on October 8 at age 75 marks the end of an era in Indian cinema. From his National Film Award-winning role in Parinda (1989) to his recent cameo in Subedar, his career spanned nearly five decades. But for fans in Pakistan, his legacy is personal. “He had as many admirers in Pakistan as he had in India,” Ali said, noting that the actor’s on-screen persona was identical to his off-screen warmth. Ali often teased him by calling him a “young man,” to which Patekar would joke that they were both getting old.
The cricket fraternity is still processing the loss. Umar Akmal posted tributes on social media, but Ali’s account offers the intimate details that headlines miss. It was a relationship built on consistency, not just fame. As the cricket world moves on, the memory of a man who called his friend’s dying mother every week will linger in the dressing rooms from Mumbai to Lahore. The next match is always tomorrow, but for now, the silence is loud.