Photo credit: Dr Jayanta Sen

Balaramda: my role model

I met my hero just once. That too just recently. The opportunity came when Dr Jayanta Sen offered to take me along with PC Poddar and Sukumar Samajpati to Balaramda’s place at Uttarpara. He received us at the door with a heart-warming smile but just would not allow me to touch his feet to do pranam. Embraced and said, “No, no, Please don’t.” I managed to reply, “Sir, but I have a request you cannot refuse.”

The smile remained as he raised his furrowed eyebrows, “Yes. What is it?” Now it was my turn to flash a smile, “I shall not touch your feet as you wish, but you have to put your hand on my head!” The soft laughter of a saint emerged – a replica of Ramakrishna, no less – the embrace tightened and his right palm touched the tip of my head. A shiver went down my spine. I am indeed a lucky man to have had the affection and blessing of this great man.

Tulsidas Balaram’s career has a unique colour to it. His international life as a football player lasted 6 years from 1956 to 1962. During that period Indian football was at its zenith: 4th in Melbourne Olympics to gold medal at Jakarta Asian Games. Very few Indian sportsmen have had such an influential role in the prospect of India’s sports performance. Unique indeed: whenever he played, India did well.

The ebony, sinuous frame swerved to the right, ‘dummied’ a robust tackler and from an acute angle a deft placement saw the leather sphere balloon the net. That was a typical movement of the sinewy elegance of Balaram. He was to repeat this magic for India time and again during the heady days of Indian football, 1956 to 1962.

He was the hero of all the East Bengal supporters at our school. Even the Bagan followers grudgingly admitted his worth with Subroto Sirkar claiming that he would have been still better with the maroon and green jersey on! Little did we youngsters realize that he belonged not to any narrow allegiance of club or State, he was the treasure of the nation. Everyone not only admired his genius, they loved the person he happened to be.

He arrived on the scene when Indian football was going through a period of total change. The legacy of playing in bare feet was abolished for good. The reason for this sudden transformation in Indian football scenario came about because of the ‘hell-in-Helsinki’ treatment in the 1952 Olympic. The much-vaunted bare-footed Indians were caught on slushy turf and went through the torture of losing by 10 goals to 1.

Balaram emerged from an obscure village in rural Andhra. The mild-mannered inside forward mesmerized all and sundry in the neighbourhood with his soccer talents. As destiny beckoned, he was soon in the presence of an exceptional football coach, Syed Rahim, in the Nizam’s capital city of Hyderabad.

Balaram had no time for unnecessary theories. He was a man of the soil who concentrated on activity rather than words. Balaram knew not what positive attitude meant because he was full of positivity. He knew not that he was someone special because he himself possessed extraordinary skills. He could do amazing tricks with the ball with ease. He could toy around with the ball not only with his feet but with his head and body as well.

 Remarkable control he possessed with the ball as well as in life-style. When he found others floundering, he did not get upset or irritated. He merely carried their responsibility voluntarily. He did not ever think that it was a burden on him. He was the game-maker as well as the goal-scorer. With ease the man could carry a weak team not only on his shoulders but with a warm heart as well.

Was he India’s first ‘total footballer’? Most certainly, he was, as almost every coach had asked him to do multiple roles. Every coach understood his innate all-round ability; every player saluted his approach and temperament; every genuine football fan was attracted to his appeal. He earned universal respect.

‘Total football’ was made popular internationally by the Dutch and Johann Cryuff in the 1970s, but there was man in India who was doing so in the 1950s. Little did the media or the administrators realize that what he was doing was something unique. He was destined to be behind the curtain forever. Our greatest ‘complete’ player never received his due recognition.

Nor did the Government of India, for that matter, acknowledge his real worth. They gave him the Arjuna award but conveniently forgot to confer on him the Padma awards. The chief reason was that he had no one to canvass and plead for him. May be it was appropriate when we found players far inferior to him were getting those awards. No, no, he did not belong to that low a category.

 Even the club for which the highly-sensitive man devoted the prime years of his football life did not quite live up to our expectations. Later they tried to make amends. But by then it was sadly too late.

During the course of the conversation as the great man got up to make the tea himself and serve us sandwiches, pastries and patties, Samajda commented, ‘Balada, if you had got married, Boudi would have done this job and we could have had more time with you.” Balada replied, “Very true, Samaj. But try my tea today.” I developed some courage to say, “Balaramda, I feel that even if Boudi was around, you would have made the tea for us yourself.” An unaffected, relaxed answer evolved, “Perhaps. Never thought on those lines.”

Born in a rural environment among orthodox Hindus, he became a devout disciple of Syed Abdul Rahim. He played a body-contact sport like football without ever appearing to push or shove anyone. The rough and tumble of football did not quite bother the fleet-footed genius. He was the trademark symbol of the ‘beautiful game’, which we all love and admire.  

He was a goal-scoring forward yet he would be seen roving all over the arena to collect and assist. His twinkling feet sent opponents the wrong way yet he would be seen to distribute unselfishly to his colleagues. On either side of the attack he would be devastating yet he would sacrifice his favourite inside-left position for others to prosper.

Coach Rahim utilized Balaram not at his favourite left-inside position because Chuni Goswami preferred to be at left-in. Balaram was equally devastating at right-in, where he developed a fabulous combination with PK Banerjee at right wing. No Indian team has had such great forwards playing together. They complemented just as they contrasted each other.

When he went to Melbourne for the Olympic Games in 1956 it was the first time he was leaving the shores of India. Was he nervous: straight from rural India to jet-set Australia? He remembers, “We had no time to think of anything but football. Rahim Saab told us that we were going to war and that on us depended the honour of our country. Our team was prepared to die for India.” India won the match 4-2 against host Australia.

What happened after the match? “None seemed too overjoyed. We had gone to win and we won. Rahim Saab gave a rare smile and said it seemed that we had the national flag on our chest! Great tonic for all of us. Centre-forward Neville D’Souza scored a superb hat-trick.”

Everybody agrees that you and PK were magnificent at the Melbourne Olympic and created innumerable openings. Again there was just the suggestion of a smile, “PK and I just did our job and received terrific support from every other player.”

That is Tulsidas Balaram for you and me. Simple and straight forward: he was not trying to be modest. He was just himself. Not a word out of place; no exhibitionism; no exaggeration. After his stupendous performance at Melbourne in 1956 of all the Calcutta clubs, it was Jyotish Guha’s East Bengal representatives who first went to his native village to sign him in.

But Balaram was not at all keen to leave his parents and village to settle down in a major city and so he politely declined the offer. This was by itself a distinct departure from the usual norm. Those days no football player would refuse the offer of the Calcutta clubs because they were the only ones who would pay the players handsomely.

As the East Bengal recruiters departed, Mohammedan Sporting officials pounced on him. Now Balaram’s mother had to intervene! She impressed upon her son the need to go and play for a ‘big’ club in the busy metropolis of Calcutta. As some of Balaram’s mates played for Mohammedan Sporting, he too opted to play for the club as well. But his football friends of Mohammedan Sporting told him that he would fit in much better at East Bengal because of his diet and life-style.

 Balaram on his own came to Calcutta with his Mohammedan Sporting friends and went to meet Jyotish Guha at his residence! This approach itself must be unique in the context of Indian sport. Jyotish Guha, known for his extremely stern manner, said, “The offer is no longer on.” Balaram pleaded, “Sir, Please give me just one more chance. I will never let you down.”

“How much do you want?” Guha raised his eyebrows.  

“Sir, I need only accommodation and food. Nothing else. Please consider my request.” Guha’s stern exterior softened, “Well, I shall decide on the payment later. Take your bag and go to our club mess.” Later Jyotish Guha told a fellow administrator, “One day this boy will revolutionize football in our country with his skills and manners.”

At the Rome Olympic in 1960 India played fabulous football, especially against the top teams like France and Hungary. The results 1-1 and 1-2 respectively hardly reflected the real picture, as the famous cricket writer Nevile Cardus had once observed ‘…the score-board is an ass.’ The Indians, under coach Rahim and captain PK, played delightful, inspired football. Balaram was at his devastating best.

Foreign critics were amazed to find the pride of world football – France and Hungary – being dazzled by the footwork of a group of spirited non-entities from south Asia. They went raptures over Balaram, PK and Chuni. Ultimately it was the lack of international experience and exposure that stopped India in the group league stage. One minor mistake of a well-known defender cost India the vital point but Balaramda differed, “No, no one player was responsible. We played together. We lost together.”

So typical of this selfless genius. We thought champions had massive egos. How wrong we were. Or, was he a rare exception? He did not have a selfish bone in his body. The lanky man of soft features hardly looked like a soccer player. He never possessed a robust physique. His manner was all charm. He gave the distinct impression of being a poet far away from the humdrum world of reality.

Sukumar Samajpati – outstanding player, superb musician and corporate-topper – said, “Just by watching Balada we learnt so much about football, about life. He would not force you to do anything. He would do wonderful things with his feet, body, head and mind. He made everything look so simple. We wanted to copy him, only to realize how difficult those were.” Only an outstanding person like Sukumarda can elaborate so modestly and candidly.

Balaram’s mother wanted him to get married in 1963. Balaram promised he would marry but only after the 1964 Olympic Games at Tokyo. In between he would spend hours at the maidan honing his undoubted skills. Suddenly one day, a mild cough developed into dreaded pleurisy. Balaram’s energy ebbed. He could hardly move. Those magical feet began to totter. He knew now Tokyo was an impossible dream.

His mother insisted that this was the right time to get married. But Balaramda being Balaramda simply said, “No, Ma, I cannot. I do not want to offer a patient to my wife!” He remained a bachelor and most surely a philosopher to be marvelled at.

Complimenting every contemporary came naturally to him. He could only see their strengths. When coaxed about Chuni and Peekay, he closed his eyes and reflected, “We three had distinctive styles. We enjoyed beautiful understanding. We complemented each other. They were exceptional. But please do not forget Arun, Jarnail, Yusuf Khan, Ram Bahadur, Kempiah, Thangaraj, Samaj. Each was magnificent as a player.”

Once my friend Ajoy Ghosh – abroad for more than 50 years – observed, “Raju, once East Bengal, always East Bengal. Balaram was, is and always will be my ‘guru’.” What affection, what reverence for a person even after 5 decades.

Calcuttans loved him. He reciprocated wholeheartedly. Today Ma Kali has literally brought him close to Her. Opposite the Dakshineshwar temple on the other side of the River Hooghly is the residence of my retired hermit, Balaramda. A saint in every sense of the word. A man of the world yet not quite in it. What a soul we have with us on earth. A champion on and off the field. He was born to be an inspiration to future generations.