Malavika R Banerjee marvels at the soccer mania of the bhadralok
The FIFA World Cup is a bad time for women across the world and I am not talking about the soccer widow phenomenon, since many women have warmed to the game. The problem lies elsewhere. For one, jerseys designed with athletic bodies in mind are forced to cover beer bellies across the globe. In India, a virulent strain of this affliction is to be found in Kolkata where bright yellow jerseys jostle with blue and white stripes as the favourites of the season.
Puffy-eyed men troop into office and discuss the finer points of the game that concluded at 3 am. They then go home after sleepwalking through work, don soccer jerseys and watch the late night games once again.
Television sales go up; soccer jerseys, mostly fake and locally manufactured, fly off the racks, walls of homes, schools and even Sulabh Sauchalya have all got colourful graffiti and frescos of Kaka, Messi and Tevez, interspersed with posters and even garlands. Most of these sketches are done by artists from local clubs, known as para clubs. Hot debates on the effect of the vuvuzela can be heard, and old-timers still debate the merits and demerits of Pele and Diego Maradona.
All this can only happen during the FIFA World Cup, and it can happen only in Kolkata.
There are many fascinating nuances to Bengal’s World Cup mania. The local teams, Mohun Bagan and East Bengal, draw their passionate supporters from the two halves of undivided Bengal. Mohun Bagan is the ghoti club, supported by those from West Bengal; East Bengal, as the name suggests, has supporters from among bangals, those who have their roots in what is now Bangladesh. While almost all of West Bengal roots for Brazil or Argentina, bangals root for the Germans.
Like most things Bengali, there is a method to this soccer madness. Three decades ago, it was believed that the gold and green team had a flair and style reminiscent of maidan football. Two events in the early 1980s disabused the city of this notion. One was the arrival of a junior Sao Paolo team from Brazil who thoroughly outplayed the messiahs of the maidan.
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The other, more conclusive proof was offered by the live telecast of the last few games of the 1982 World Cup and the telecast of the 1986 World Cup. The difference in standard was so telling that it affected the turnout and passion for football in Bengal. A large chunk of fans decided to keep loving the game, but instead of watching the local derby, they began to yearn for the real thing, and in those days, that came by once in four years during the World Cup.
In 1994, the walls of Jadavpur University were filled with support for Romario and Roberto Baggio. The latter had had a stunning run till the finals, and his sketches were getting larger. However, when he missed a crucial penalty, the spell was broken. The next morning there was a streak of red across his Azzuri jersey — some bitter paan-chewing arts student had spat on the Divine Ponytail.
Today, Kolkata loves the game, and will follow the fate of Brazil and Argentina not only in the World Cup, but also in other tournaments such as the Copa America, thanks to live telecasts of these events. The rest of India might smirk, but Kolkatans continue with their merry ways.
The naysayers would do well to remember that when Pele and Maradona came to India, they visited only Kolkata. While the rest of India worship the gentleman’s game, for Bengalis it’s the beautiful game.
