Grandfather, Gold Cup and Alu Chewra

 

The All India Governor's Gold Cup will kick off very soon, and I just felt like writing a bit about my earliest memories of this tournament, which were with my grandfather, Late Prakash Rai. Whenever I have had the opportunity, I have always shared with people how much my grandfather loved football. A small-time footballer himself in his younger days, football lived in his heart till his last breath.

It had almost become a ritual in the 1990s that my grandfather would visit us during the Gold Cup in Gangtok. My father was no less a football fan, so the three of us would troop off to the Polo Ground in the afternoon to watch the matches. My father used to get off from his office after showing the match tickets. So Mr. Purna Rai would rush down from his office to join us and head for the stadium.

Grandfather always carried his ubiquitous umbrella while going to the matches, though the chance of rain in October in Gangtok was very slim. No rain, no problem. The umbrella became his walking stick. And how can we forget those newspapers we used to sit on while watching the matches? The bonus for me, along with the match, as a little boy, was the endless supply of chana, chips, jhalmuri, ice cream, and yes, alu chewra. It was pure joy.

We might have watched a dozen matches together, but the one I remember the most was that classic semi-final between SFA Blue and Mohun Bagan in the 1992 Gold Cup, if I am remembering the year correctly. SFA, with all Sikkimese players, had given a tough fight to the Kolkata giants Mohun Bagan, losing by a narrow margin of 2-1, and Bhaichung Bhutia had announced his arrival with a memorable outing.

It was not an out-of-this-world guess. Bhaichung was already destined for greatness. But my grandfather, seeing him for the first time, had remarked, “This boy will go a long way.” He definitely went a long way and became a legend of Indian football.

Sometimes on match days, my grandfather and I would leave home early, take a round of MG Marg, and then head to the stadium. My favourite snack during those days, as mentioned earlier, was alu chewra, and I would drag the old man to Lal Bazar, where, in the middle of all the vegetable stalls, the alu chewra bhaiyas would be standing. Alu with thick gravy, mixed with chewra, served with a topping of onions and green chillies. I would finish two to three helpings in no time. That was truly delicious.

Once we even watched a movie together at Denzong Hall as we had a lot of time to kill before the match kicked off. The movie was Humse Hai Muqabla, the Prabhu Deva starrer with a lot of song and dance sequences. Some folks had given bemused looks towards my grandfather. Not offensive, but they might have been thinking that the grandson had forced the old man to watch it. My grandfather, after getting back home, told my mother about his day’s adventure, and they had a good laugh.

Cut to 2025. The Gold Cup is still there, but it has been years since my grandfather left us. Still, I am happy that, thanks to the Gold Cup, he got to watch some quality football matches. Otherwise, it was just the World Cup, and in those days, the telecast used to be erratic. I remember him watching some recorded matches on video tapes in Kalimpong.

In those long chats we used to have during my winter vacation in Rongo, he had told me that he had gone down to Kolkata in the 1950s for some work and watched a few matches there. According to his narration, it was quite an adventure, as he and his friend had struggled to cross the road in a big city like Kolkata. Also, his friend had drunk the lemon and hot water meant to wash hands.

I think that two-week trip to Gangtok to watch the Gold Cup also gave him an escape, a much-needed break from the mundane, routine life in Rongo, where he was the headmaster of the Government Primary School.

Football fans come in all shapes and sizes. Some are die-hard club fans who support one club for a lifetime. Some just want to enjoy a good game with friends. Some are like my grandfather, an ordinary football fan who loved the game in the simplest of ways. But he could not do without it. Football was like oxygen for him. If not playing, he would be watching. If not watching, he would be talking. If not talking, he would be thinking. If not thinking, he would be dreaming about the beautiful game.