Rantu retired from FCI but his wish was to hang his boots after playing from some reputed club. His desire was not to be fulfilled. He regretted this for the rest of his life. After retiring from sports, his son became the apple of his eye. Whenever he used to get a holiday, he would play cricket with Rubba and his nephew Roni with a cambis ball. Or carrom. Time would just fly by. Even if he was invited as the chief guest for some special occasion, this doting father did not let go of his child. During these days, he did not like to go to movies. But if his son requested him even once, he would not leave out a single film-Jurassic Park, Mommy Returns. He was extremely fond of Rubba. He never scolded him or raised hands against him. Krishanu was passionately fond of the Hilsa fish. And cricket. One could say that these two had become his passions after retiring. On Saturdays, he would invariably go to our house (his in-law's house). He loved my mother's cooking, whether it was red spinach, potato fries or anything else. He liked chicken too, but if someone offered him Ilish, he did not need anything else. During the occasion of Jamai Sasthi, Mom would have to cook Ilish. He used to enjoy every bit of the dish. After he passed away, Mom has never cooked Ilish till today. Just like Ilish, he had become addicted to cricket. If there was a match featuring India, Rantu would sit down in front of the TV with Rubba. A fan of Sachin and Sourav, he would teach the finer nuances of the game to his son. I used to wonder how a footballer could develop such a love for cricket. During those days, he would write on European football in a number of newspapers. Rubba had grown up and was studying at Patha Bhaban. He would take dictation from his father's comments. He used to teach his son the various combinations in which the teams were playing. How the match might shape out to be. And many other things. Rubba would listen, all ears. This same football expert would transform himself into the Maths teacher before the exams. In 1998, Rantu went to France to see the World Cup. he was very excited when he came back. "Zidane, Zidane. He is the best foreign player that I have seen. What a player!' he gushed. He had brought a bag full of chocolates from Switzerland. Rubba had told him, 'You can go. But you have to bring me something from there.'
India wins, Rantu loses
September 2002. The blackest month of my life. Krishanu suffered a fracture in his leg while playing for a office game. I never knew that my life would turn upside down in the next five months. I would lose my Prince Charming for ever. Rantu suffered for a continuous six months. He could never fully recover during that time. March 13. His blood pressure began to fall alarmingly. He was admitted to Lansdowne Nursing Home. But his condition began to deteriorate. He was shifted to Woodlands Nursing Home, but there was no change in his condition. Krishanu had been affected by pulmonary embolism, a clot of blood had attacked his lungs. 20th March, 2003. Afternoon. Krishanu passed away, plunging me in an abyss of sorrow. The friend of my youth. The king of my dreams. Rubba was the studying in the seventh standard. His final exams were just a few days away. He was not allowed to go to the nursing home. India was in the grip of World Cup Cricket mania. India had qualified for the semi-finals, they were to play against Kenya. Rubba very much wished that he would see the match with his Daddy. India would win, and they would celebrate together. Well, India did win, but his father lost the final battle. Even now, I shudder when I think of those days. My eyelids begin to droop. Sometimes when I look down from our house towards the street, I get a feeling that Rantu is silently walking along the street. He would look up at me and smile shyly.
Does Krishanu really deserve so much dishonour?
I would never forget Sourav Gangopadhyay. After Rantu passed away, I read in the Anandabazar Patrika that Sourav had said that the Indian team's achievements in the World Cup were dedicated to the memory of Krishanu Dey. My heart was filled with respect. Even in those dark days, this piece of news brought a ray of light in my life. Later Sourav came to Rantu's memorial ceremony. That was the first time that I entered the East Bengal club. Sourav told me how deeply he admired Krishanu, it seemed that he had lost his childhood hero. It has been a long twelve years since Rantu passed away. Strange that those who were close friends of his never turn up or enquire about us. I feel bad when I see that some footballers who have been playing for only four-five years get awards like the Arjuna Award. But the 'Indian Maradona' remains completely neglected. I heard that his statue was to be erected. Who knows what became of it? Even a benefit match could not be arranged in his honour. Did Krishanu deserve such humiliation? But even when people hear that I am Rantu's wife, they say, ' We still remember Krishanu's play. His dribbles are still etched in our memory.' My heart swells with pride. Whenever I go to the Maidan, the supporters, whether of East Bengal or Mohun Bagan confess that they come to the Maidan, but they are yet to see another Krishanu. I struggle hard to stifle my tears. The love of the supporters is much more valuable than crores of rupees. Much greater than many awards. Very few players can claim to have made such a place for themselves in the hearts of people. In this respect, Krishanu is certainly very fortunate. Take care, my beloved Rantu, wherever you now be. (As told to Soham De) END
I hoped you enjoyed my translation guys, especially those who could not read the original article. Glad to do my bit for IFN and the memory of Krishanu Dey.
Brilliant translation mate! To someone like me who had no inkling of football and Indian football teams growing up, this is a great read and a little insight into the transfer sagas if the past. Thanks mate!
1. 2. These are the only two videos that I could get where one can just get a glimpse of Krishanu playing, dribbling and making a few delectable passes through his wand of a left foot. Just goes on to show how we 'honour' our footballing icons. In fact, the statue has not seen the light of day.
There's an excellent article on the legendary Indian coach, Amal Dutta, in today's editorial of the Aajkaal. This is the link: http://aajkaal.in/enewspaper/bistaritakhabar/16/7491. I guess most of us have heard about this legendary coach from Bengal but this article gives a few more interesting tidbits about his life and coaching system. I am translating it for those who cannot access it. See the next post.
But how he is doing these days could be known after reading the report by Debashish Dutta in Aajkaal. Is he following the Copa America or Euro Cup? Alas, he is no longer able to see television. He does not read newspapers. That shapely body has turned decrepit. During the evenings, he is made to sit on the chair for half an hour, putting on some powder, a break from being confined to the bed, so that he does not become bedsore. A little milk in a small glass--it takes hours to feed him. His wife, son, daughter-in-law, daughter, son-in-law--all look after him. But he is not in a position to accept all these. Amal Dutta is alive. Age eighty seven. Much. But some people aged even more than him stay fit and active sometimes. There is an example before our own eyes. The classical singer of the Bishnupur gharana, Amiyaranjan Bandopadhyay. Eighty nine years of age. He still teaches music six hours a day. He himself sings, even went to attend a concert in Bangladesh some days ago. He is interested in football and tennis. He regrets when Mohun Bagan loses, he feels sad when Nadal has to quit a tournament after suffering an injury. Yes, a disciplined person. Amal Dutta has also remained disciplined during his entire life. He has never touched liquor, his lips have never touched a cigarette. Abstemious. He would be very punctual with regard to his dinner which would be a simple fare of roti and vegetables. He preferred eating small fish at lunch. I had seen him swimming even at the age of fifty-two. While swimming, he had turned towards me and said, 'There is no better exercise than this, understand?'....That Amal-da, far from the joys and sorrows of life, far from football, which was his life. Amal Dutta is alive. A little bit left. Will complete it tomorrow.
Missed this thread entirely until today. Went through the entire Krishanu Dey story at one go it was so fascinating. And what an amazing translation. Without exaggeration I would say that you have done a great service to Indian Football @thebeautifulgame. I hope this work of yours reaches greater audience.
Comments
Ilish (hilsa), cricket and son
Rantu retired from FCI but his wish was to hang his boots after playing from some reputed club. His desire was not to be fulfilled. He regretted this for the rest of his life. After retiring from sports, his son became the apple of his eye. Whenever he used to get a holiday, he would play cricket with Rubba and his nephew Roni with a cambis ball. Or carrom. Time would just fly by. Even if he was invited as the chief guest for some special occasion, this doting father did not let go of his child. During these days, he did not like to go to movies. But if his son requested him even once, he would not leave out a single film-Jurassic Park, Mommy Returns. He was extremely fond of Rubba. He never scolded him or raised hands against him. Krishanu was passionately fond of the Hilsa fish. And cricket. One could say that these two had become his passions after retiring. On Saturdays, he would invariably go to our house (his in-law's house). He loved my mother's cooking, whether it was red spinach, potato fries or anything else. He liked chicken too, but if someone offered him Ilish, he did not need anything else. During the occasion of Jamai Sasthi, Mom would have to cook Ilish. He used to enjoy every bit of the dish. After he passed away, Mom has never cooked Ilish till today. Just like Ilish, he had become addicted to cricket. If there was a match featuring India, Rantu would sit down in front of the TV with Rubba. A fan of Sachin and Sourav, he would teach the finer nuances of the game to his son. I used to wonder how a footballer could develop such a love for cricket. During those days, he would write on European football in a number of newspapers. Rubba had grown up and was studying at Patha Bhaban. He would take dictation from his father's comments. He used to teach his son the various combinations in which the teams were playing. How the match might shape out to be. And many other things. Rubba would listen, all ears. This same football expert would transform himself into the Maths teacher before the exams. In 1998, Rantu went to France to see the World Cup. he was very excited when he came back. "Zidane, Zidane. He is the best foreign player that I have seen. What a player!' he gushed. He had brought a bag full of chocolates from Switzerland. Rubba had told him, 'You can go. But you have to bring me something from there.'India wins, Rantu loses
September 2002. The blackest month of my life. Krishanu suffered a fracture in his leg while playing for a office game. I never knew that my life would turn upside down in the next five months. I would lose my Prince Charming for ever. Rantu suffered for a continuous six months. He could never fully recover during that time. March 13. His blood pressure began to fall alarmingly. He was admitted to Lansdowne Nursing Home. But his condition began to deteriorate. He was shifted to Woodlands Nursing Home, but there was no change in his condition. Krishanu had been affected by pulmonary embolism, a clot of blood had attacked his lungs. 20th March, 2003. Afternoon. Krishanu passed away, plunging me in an abyss of sorrow. The friend of my youth. The king of my dreams. Rubba was the studying in the seventh standard. His final exams were just a few days away. He was not allowed to go to the nursing home. India was in the grip of World Cup Cricket mania. India had qualified for the semi-finals, they were to play against Kenya. Rubba very much wished that he would see the match with his Daddy. India would win, and they would celebrate together. Well, India did win, but his father lost the final battle. Even now, I shudder when I think of those days. My eyelids begin to droop. Sometimes when I look down from our house towards the street, I get a feeling that Rantu is silently walking along the street. He would look up at me and smile shyly.Does Krishanu really deserve so much dishonour?
I would never forget Sourav Gangopadhyay. After Rantu passed away, I read in the Anandabazar Patrika that Sourav had said that the Indian team's achievements in the World Cup were dedicated to the memory of Krishanu Dey. My heart was filled with respect. Even in those dark days, this piece of news brought a ray of light in my life. Later Sourav came to Rantu's memorial ceremony. That was the first time that I entered the East Bengal club. Sourav told me how deeply he admired Krishanu, it seemed that he had lost his childhood hero. It has been a long twelve years since Rantu passed away. Strange that those who were close friends of his never turn up or enquire about us. I feel bad when I see that some footballers who have been playing for only four-five years get awards like the Arjuna Award. But the 'Indian Maradona' remains completely neglected. I heard that his statue was to be erected. Who knows what became of it? Even a benefit match could not be arranged in his honour. Did Krishanu deserve such humiliation? But even when people hear that I am Rantu's wife, they say, ' We still remember Krishanu's play. His dribbles are still etched in our memory.' My heart swells with pride. Whenever I go to the Maidan, the supporters, whether of East Bengal or Mohun Bagan confess that they come to the Maidan, but they are yet to see another Krishanu. I struggle hard to stifle my tears. The love of the supporters is much more valuable than crores of rupees. Much greater than many awards. Very few players can claim to have made such a place for themselves in the hearts of people. In this respect, Krishanu is certainly very fortunate.Take care, my beloved Rantu, wherever you now be.
(As told to Soham De)
END
2.
These are the only two videos that I could get where one can just get a glimpse of Krishanu playing, dribbling and making a few delectable passes through his wand of a left foot. Just goes on to show how we 'honour' our footballing icons. In fact, the statue has not seen the light of day.
Amal Dutta is alive.
But how he is doing these days could be known after reading the report by Debashish Dutta in Aajkaal. Is he following the Copa America or Euro Cup? Alas, he is no longer able to see television. He does not read newspapers. That shapely body has turned decrepit. During the evenings, he is made to sit on the chair for half an hour, putting on some powder, a break from being confined to the bed, so that he does not become bedsore. A little milk in a small glass--it takes hours to feed him. His wife, son, daughter-in-law, daughter, son-in-law--all look after him. But he is not in a position to accept all these. Amal Dutta is alive.Age eighty seven. Much. But some people aged even more than him stay fit and active sometimes. There is an example before our own eyes. The classical singer of the Bishnupur gharana, Amiyaranjan Bandopadhyay. Eighty nine years of age. He still teaches music six hours a day. He himself sings, even went to attend a concert in Bangladesh some days ago. He is interested in football and tennis. He regrets when Mohun Bagan loses, he feels sad when Nadal has to quit a tournament after suffering an injury. Yes, a disciplined person. Amal Dutta has also remained disciplined during his entire life. He has never touched liquor, his lips have never touched a cigarette. Abstemious. He would be very punctual with regard to his dinner which would be a simple fare of roti and vegetables. He preferred eating small fish at lunch. I had seen him swimming even at the age of fifty-two. While swimming, he had turned towards me and said, 'There is no better exercise than this, understand?'....That Amal-da, far from the joys and sorrows of life, far from football, which was his life. Amal Dutta is alive.
A little bit left. Will complete it tomorrow.