Where the fraternity has failed him, Providence will provide

From fleet-footed forward to plodding pensioner, the wheel’s come full circle for Mohammad Zulfakaruddin.

A member of India’s football squad that made the 1956 Melbourne Olympics semifinals, a peak it may never scale again, he’s been subsisting in Secunderabad, under a roof not his own, unknown and unsung, until the recent felicitation call-up to Delhi.

A vain bid for recognition found no takers at the Sports Authority of Andhra Pradesh (SAAP) office a few years ago. Nobody believed he was an Olympian. An official issued an application form, more out of sympathy for the septuagenarian. Footwork for the proforma over, the frail figure began paper work for an Arjuna or Dronacharya award.

No honours

Mohd. Habeeb and Yousuf Khan, who played under him, received the Arjuna Award, while Syed Nayeemuddin, the Dronacharya. Strangely, Zulfakar, AP’s captain from 1958 to 66 — the game’s golden era that saw the Bengal bastion breached — found no mention in any honours list.

On the field an inside-left, he’s been left out by fame and fortune. The rare foray to the fore is to give away prizes at a local tournament.

His face glows when his football feats excite interest. “When AP won the 1963-64 Pentangular tournament in Ceylon, I received the trophy from the then FIFA President Sir Stanley Rous,” he recalled. He featured in India’s runner-up finish at Kuala Lumpur in the 1959 Merdeka Cup.

Feted by half a dozen heads of State, from President Rajendra Prasad to Shankar Dayal Sharma, Zulfakar also led Central Police Lines (CPL) for over a decade, the side boasting half a dozen Olympians!

Historic strike

Old-timers fondly remember his solitary goal in 1966 that fetched Andhra Pradesh the Santosh Trophy for the first time. Dodging the legendary Jarnail Singh, Bengal’s stopper back, he slipped the ball into the net, throwing the Quilon (Kollam) crowd into raptures. That triumph was especially sweet for AP, which had lost to Bengal in two earlier.

“Team spirit ran high, on and off the field,” he reminisced. After every match, players gathered at Hotel Madina in the Old City for tea or biriyani or at the Lateef restaurant, near Moazzam Jahi Market.

Reflected in competition, this camaraderie chipped in to cohesion and great understanding. Little wonder then that in Indian football’s finest hour, eight men were from Hyderabad.

Food for thought

With the wolf never far from his door, food is a recurring theme.

“Many players were good cooks too. Some handed out Hyderabad recipes to a Delhi restaurant, which has grown so much that Rahul Gandhi orders food from there,” he says. Soft-spoken and modest, he’s a misfit in a market-driven world.

A blinding love for Hyderabad and deferring to his father’s wishes, Zulfakar stayed back in the Twin Cities, when teammates made a beeline for Bengal, Indian football’s El Dorado.

Still dogged by injuries from his playing days, he takes recourse to religion, beard and skull cap in place. Where the fraternity has failed him, Providence will provide, perhaps.

(From The Hindu dated February 26, 2009. Article by A. Joseph Antony)