Shamya Dasgupta recounts his meeting with Chuni Goswami in January 2019, where he answers the question: football or cricket?
"Arre, why didn't you just say you wanted to go to Chuni Goswami's house? Why waste my time?"
Greetings exchanged, I told Chuni babu that the rickshaw man had admonished me for looking for the house number when all I had to do was take his name. He guffawed. "Hyaan (Yes), people still remember me, which is nice. I am fortunate. They might not know who I am, but they know I am important. They see me when I go for my walk in the morning and evening, and they recognise me. Calcutta isn't like other cities. Here, people still respect their heroes."
Chuni babu's flat is up on the second floor of a three-storey apartment, with a whole wall devoted to a collage of photographs from his heyday. The Goswami family occupies this apartment, and it has an elevator too. As such, apartments under five storeys are not allowed elevators in Kolkata, but the state government had, at one point, extended the facility to a select few city stalwarts. "It's useful," Chuni babu, almost 81 at the time but in fine fettle, said, adding, "When they installed it - I don't remember when it was - it wasn't needed. I used to run up the stairs then. But now it's quite a help."
This was early January 2019. I was visiting Chuni babu to discuss cricket in the city, jog his memory. Our talk meandered, he repeated himself, made me repeat my questions, forgot or skipped details... He was seated in his living room, clad in a track suit and watching the cricket, the fourth Australia v India Test at the SCG. Chuni babu was certainly alert, but getting along a bit, that's all.
"This boy is good," he said pointing at the large TV screen, where Rishabh Pant was batting with Ravindra Jadeja. I had missed the morning's action, but knew Cheteshwar Pujara had hit 193. Pant had hit a century too, and India were getting to a good position.
"You think so," I asked. "Isn't Pujara more, I mean..."
"Oh, he is a bit like we used to be, very patient, very solid. But nowadays I don't enjoy watching that sort of batting... actually, some of the best batsmen in our times were aggressive too, but not like this. This is more fun."
So, T20s? "Yes, I thoroughly enjoy it. They give me tickets to go to the stadium, but I get too tired. I watch on TV, this is more enjoyable." Anticipating a 'but' or two coming his way, Chuni babu carried on: "See, I don't like seeing empty stands at Eden Gardens. At least during the IPL, there are people. It's sad, but that's natural. We didn't have TV. Now you have TV, so 50% of the people choose to stay at home and watch on TV. Or they are old. Like me. Some do go to the ground to experience the thrill. But now there is Google [internet] also, so people just sit at home and enjoy themselves."
***
Goswami was - is - an icon. An Indian icon, of course, but certainly one of the biggest in Bengal. Like PK Banerjee, a year-and-a-half his senior, who, too, passed away earlier this year. The two went back a long way, most memorably to 1962, when Goswami led India to one of their few true champagne moments in football, the Asian Games gold medal. Banerjee was a big part of that, with four goals, including one in the gold-medal match.
But, while Banerjee was all football - coach, commentator, columnist - Goswami was the versatile one, the trivia-hunter's delight. A one-club (Mohun Bagan) man, he played hockey for them too, and was a fair tennis player as well. And while his exploits as a footballer made him who he was, Goswami was a pretty good cricketer, as he never failed to remind anyone who would listen.
He continued playing football till 1968, but by 1962, was good enough to open the bowling and bat in the middle-order for Bengal in first-class cricket and even led them to the final of the Ranji Trophy, in 1971-72. The spotlight moment, though, had come some years earlier.
It was late 1966. West Indies were visiting. And a Combined East & Central team took on the visitors in a tour game in Indore. And won by an innings and 44 runs [West Indies won the three-Test series 2-0]. How did it happen? Almost entirely because of the exceptional performance by two medium-pacers from Bengal - Subrata Guha, who would go on to play four Tests, and Goswami. Together, they took nine wickets in the first West Indies innings and all ten in the second, Guha four and seven, Goswami five and three. The opposition wasn't too shabby either - Garry Sobers sat the game out, but Rohan Kanhai, Clive Lloyd and Seymour Nurse formed a pretty formidable batting pack.
"Football always came first, though I played schools' cricket at Eden Gardens too," he reminisced. "I performed well as a footballer. The Asian Games gold medal, I won everything with Mohun Bagan. So... I played cricket first, but left it for six years because football became bigger, and I was doing well. At that time, in Calcutta, football was a bigger sport. So I chose it. But I never stopped playing cricket, or tennis."
Do you think you could have played cricket for India, if you hadn't moved to football? "That's what people say, but I don't know. If I hadn't stopped playing cricket... See, if I didn't play football for India, I might have had regrets, but since I did, I feel satisfied. I am lucky. Maybe. Maybe not. But, those days, football was bigger. And 1962, 1964 [runners-up in the four-team Asian Cup]... I wouldn't trade those for anything."
***
We chatted for a while, past India's first-innings declaration and the end of the day's play. I'd like to think Chuni babu enjoyed the conversation, the backing-and-forthing. And the coffee - "If you hadn't come, I wouldn't have got the second cup."