(This is the second in a series of posts written in a single sitting to make up for lost time.)
-"In my heliotrope pyjamas with the old gold stripe..."
Read that line.Read it again and then tell me if it isn't the finest line you've ever read.Evelyn Waugh compared it to the best passages of Hamlet,Hilaire Belloc called it's writer "The best living writer in the English language".Plum wrote it.P.G. Wodehouse.
I sat down to write tonight after two horrid weeks of examinations.There had been divers things that needed writnhg,but, a) I didn't have time during the exams and b) they were tiny snippets of fleeting thoughts and afternoon-slumber-dreams that didn't warrant a full post.But the one thing they had in common was that they all were,how shall I put it....gentlemen advanced in years.
Old men.
This is a bit complicated.Most of the people I'm going to write about must have been young at some point in their lives (?),but my memory of them developed as old men.Take Plum,for example.Born in 1881,he must have been young till,shall we say 1921 (stretching it to breaking point),and I've got photographs to prove it.But the Plum I remember is ninety one years old.Living peacefully in Remsenberg,NY;working on his ninety-sixth novel.Aah well,that must be what Pavlov meant about conditioning.
What follows is a series of snippets about various men who have been profoundly close to my heart,and still are.Men I've grown up seeing,or discovered after they had passed away.Let me start with the youngest one first.
-Dildar Pervez Bhatti.I hope somebody still remembers him.I had a dream about him five days ago,during what might be termed as a power-nap.Strange,but not very out-of-the-ordinary,considering the fact that he was one of my childhood heroes.I was born a bit too late for his "Takra" days on PTV,(aah what stage shows they had on PTV in those days,sigh),but I was old enough to watch "Panjnad",and what a show that was.
Fronted by Bhatti,always in a blue Shalwar Kameez-dark waistcoat combo or something similar,looking half like a stock mad professor from a Hammer film,with his half bald-half Jewfro hair,this show was the tops.Considering it was considered part of the regional broadcast timeslot,the quality of the program and the guests that were on it were unbelievable.My favorite memory,also the funniest is of the time Munnoo Bhai was on the show.
I'm pretty sure it won't sound half as funny in English,but the exchange went something like this.
Dildar,"Tell me,what does your wife call you at home? Munnoo ??"
M.B,"Nope.She calls me.....dildaar !"
I don't have much to remember Bhatti by.There's a fourteen years old "Women's Own" magazine lying about my village home with Bhatti on the cover.
And then there's my crazy dreams...
......This series will continue intermittently,laziness permitting......
Sunday, April 20, 2008
Saturday, April 19, 2008
....Of Splendour In The Grass
(This is the first in a series of blogs written in a single sitting,making up for lost time)
It's purely by chance that truely astounding things get discovered.I can name countless examples.Wodehouse,Dylan,that wonderful Tikka shop near the hostels,Spike Milligan;almost everything dropped right out of the blue.Well,technically Khattak Tikka House doesn't count,because I was darned hungry.But two weeks ago,something similar happened.Sordid,but beautiful.
Every time I have exams,the impish desire to quit studying and do something a bit more howshallisay,worthwhile,gets the best of me.It's always led me to trouble.Case in point,finishing the complete Sherlock Holmes a day before my Matriculation Physics paper,thus dishing any chance I may have had of getting respectable grades.It was exam time again,and I was playing hookey like nobody's business.
It was Saturday night,exams in four days,and I was odling around online.There wasn't anything special to do,so I wound up at a forum.It was a place where I'd go for rare old Bollywood songs,and the folks there had always obliged.I was just sluicing among the topics when I chanced upon "Mubarak Begum Needs Help".
"It's just another chain message,hoping for some poor sod to click and get his PC infected",I thought.Usually I don't go poking around such messages but I thought,what the heck.As it turned out,it wasn't a chain mail,but something completely different.
It was a piece about an old Indian playback singer,Mubarak Begum,who had fallen on hard times.It seems she had sung a handful of songs back in the fifties and early sixties but hadn't been exceedingly popular.These days,she was living in utter squalor in Mumbai.Her son was a taxicab driver,and his meagre earnings,along with the little bit that some old fan sent along once in a while,were all that she and her forty year old Alzhiemer's ridden daughter were living on.
Now I think I wrote a blog post on how I feel about faded celebrities,or faded artists shall we say.So I read the piece with the usual cynical pity.Having read on,I learned that the folks on the forum( now that's a good name for a band,Folks On The Forum.Or a radio show...) were trying to get some money collected for her.
At the end of the page,there was brief mention of her two or three better known songs.It turned out I had one of them,but it was incorrectly credited to Lata.Having nothing better to do,I googled one of her songs,put it on download and went off for my midnight snack (which is usually more of a midnight banquet).It being Abbottabad and the connection being Dial-Up,I had finished my sizeable meal by the time the song got downloaded.
It was almost 3 AM,the witching hour,when I wrapped the blanket tighter around me and played the song.It started with a scratchy,haunting flute piece with background violins.On came the voice,and off went my senses.Goosebumps all over my body,I didn't have time to hitch up my sagging jaw as waves upon waves of that sublime voice hit me.It was almost electric,the tingling I felt.And suddenly,the reality of it hit me.This voice,this honest-to-goshdarn voice was the one that was down among the wine and spirits.Normally emotions need a face to associate with,with me it varies.I had seen her picture in the piece bout her,but apart from the aforementioned pangs of helpless pity,nothing else came forth.
But now I had a voice to go with that face,those termite ridden walls and that invalid daughter of hers.My normally lazy mind started whirring,a quick mental calculation of the contents of my bank account and I was decided.A modest wire transfer and my conscience could rest,while my ears attuned themselves to "Kabhi Tanhaiyon Main Yun Hamari Yaad Aayegi"...
Song Of The Week,"Raag Bhimpalas",Ustad Bare Ghulam Ali Khan.
Books of The Week,"Robbins' Pathology",J.E Park's "Community And Public Health",Renu Jogi's "Basic Ophthalmology".Dhingra's "Ear,Nose And Throat".
It's purely by chance that truely astounding things get discovered.I can name countless examples.Wodehouse,Dylan,that wonderful Tikka shop near the hostels,Spike Milligan;almost everything dropped right out of the blue.Well,technically Khattak Tikka House doesn't count,because I was darned hungry.But two weeks ago,something similar happened.Sordid,but beautiful.
Every time I have exams,the impish desire to quit studying and do something a bit more howshallisay,worthwhile,gets the best of me.It's always led me to trouble.Case in point,finishing the complete Sherlock Holmes a day before my Matriculation Physics paper,thus dishing any chance I may have had of getting respectable grades.It was exam time again,and I was playing hookey like nobody's business.
It was Saturday night,exams in four days,and I was odling around online.There wasn't anything special to do,so I wound up at a forum.It was a place where I'd go for rare old Bollywood songs,and the folks there had always obliged.I was just sluicing among the topics when I chanced upon "Mubarak Begum Needs Help".
"It's just another chain message,hoping for some poor sod to click and get his PC infected",I thought.Usually I don't go poking around such messages but I thought,what the heck.As it turned out,it wasn't a chain mail,but something completely different.
It was a piece about an old Indian playback singer,Mubarak Begum,who had fallen on hard times.It seems she had sung a handful of songs back in the fifties and early sixties but hadn't been exceedingly popular.These days,she was living in utter squalor in Mumbai.Her son was a taxicab driver,and his meagre earnings,along with the little bit that some old fan sent along once in a while,were all that she and her forty year old Alzhiemer's ridden daughter were living on.
Now I think I wrote a blog post on how I feel about faded celebrities,or faded artists shall we say.So I read the piece with the usual cynical pity.Having read on,I learned that the folks on the forum( now that's a good name for a band,Folks On The Forum.Or a radio show...) were trying to get some money collected for her.
At the end of the page,there was brief mention of her two or three better known songs.It turned out I had one of them,but it was incorrectly credited to Lata.Having nothing better to do,I googled one of her songs,put it on download and went off for my midnight snack (which is usually more of a midnight banquet).It being Abbottabad and the connection being Dial-Up,I had finished my sizeable meal by the time the song got downloaded.
It was almost 3 AM,the witching hour,when I wrapped the blanket tighter around me and played the song.It started with a scratchy,haunting flute piece with background violins.On came the voice,and off went my senses.Goosebumps all over my body,I didn't have time to hitch up my sagging jaw as waves upon waves of that sublime voice hit me.It was almost electric,the tingling I felt.And suddenly,the reality of it hit me.This voice,this honest-to-goshdarn voice was the one that was down among the wine and spirits.Normally emotions need a face to associate with,with me it varies.I had seen her picture in the piece bout her,but apart from the aforementioned pangs of helpless pity,nothing else came forth.
But now I had a voice to go with that face,those termite ridden walls and that invalid daughter of hers.My normally lazy mind started whirring,a quick mental calculation of the contents of my bank account and I was decided.A modest wire transfer and my conscience could rest,while my ears attuned themselves to "Kabhi Tanhaiyon Main Yun Hamari Yaad Aayegi"...
Song Of The Week,"Raag Bhimpalas",Ustad Bare Ghulam Ali Khan.
Books of The Week,"Robbins' Pathology",J.E Park's "Community And Public Health",Renu Jogi's "Basic Ophthalmology".Dhingra's "Ear,Nose And Throat".
Tuesday, March 4, 2008
...Of Extreme Ennui And It's Interesting Cosequences
I don't like spring.It depresses me.
I'd rather stay stuck in eternal,hazy,sleety winters than wait for the gradual arrival of bloody summer with all the rituals that go with it;the putting away of the sweaters,the gradual transition from quilt-to-blanket-to cotton sheet-to birthday suit and the fateful day you turn the fan on for the first time in six months.(That is,officially,the longest sentence I've ever written.)But most of all,spring gets me melancholy.Every passing day seems like a waste,an opportunity fleeting away.Every friend that leaves the hostels to become a day-scholar is like another one in my long list of acquaintances I can't be bothered about.
And with the added torment of Gen. Mushtaq's death and that terrible week that's gone by,I'm on the razor's edge.In such a state,you can't blame me if I whine a little,(something I'm not too fond of,I hope) and do stuff that goes against my normal nature.
Now I'm pretty much against chain mail,(not the jingly jangly kind as worn by Palin and the lot in Monty Python And The Holy Grail,the other kind)chain messages,chain anything for that matter.But in my bored ramblings I stumbled on something of the chainspecies that kinda got me interesting.Call me a shill who's sold out to the dark side,but I'm taking the plunge.Here it goes...
Rules:
1. Put your MP3 player on shuffle.
2. For each question, press the next button to get your answer.
3. You must write the name of the song no matter what.
Here goes !!!
1.IF SOMEONE SAYS “IS THIS OKAY?” YOU SAY?
Ans.The Sun's Gonna Shine Again....Ray Charles. (Like hell it is,brain-meltingly hot)
2.WHAT WOULD BEST DESCRIBE YOUR PERSONALITY ?
Ans.I Shall be Free....Bob Dylan (I'm A Poet/I know it/Hope I don't blow it..???)
3.WHAT DO YOU LIKE IN A GUY/GIRL?
Ans.A sentimental mood.....Stan Getz (Do I now ???)
4.HOW DO YOU FEEL TODAY?
Ans.Everything Is Broken....Bob Dylan (Cor bloody hell !!! How'd it know that ??)
5.WHAT IS THE PURPOSE OF YOUR LIFE ?
Ans.Heartbreak Hotel....Elvis Presley (Knew it.Bloody knew it...Aah well.)
6.WHAT IS YOUR MOTTO?
Ans.Running Scared....Roy Orbison. (Hehehehe...pretty apt.)
7.WHAT DO YOUR FRIENDS THINK OF YOU?
Ans.The Lady is ATramp.....Frank Sinatra. ( *Blushes*)
8.WHAT DO YOU THINK OF YOUR PARENTS?
Ans.You're Gonna Quit Me.....bob Dylan. (What a horrid thought...)
9.WHAT DO YOU THINK ABOUT VERY OFTEN?
Ans.Yeh Raat Bheegi Bheegi.....Manna Dey/Lata. (I do,I swear I do.I'm a bloody disciple of this thing.)
10.WHAT IS 2+2?
Ans.Na Tha Kuch Tau Khudaa Tha....Jagjit Singh. (Again,pretty apt.)
11.WHAT DO YOU THINK OF YOUR BEST FRIEND?
Ans.Fly Me To The Moon.....Doris Day. (Aww shucks....*best friend edges away suspiciously*)
12.WHAT DO YOU THINK OF THE PERSON YOU LIKE ?
Ans.Na Aadmi Ka Koi Bharosa,Na Dosti Ka Koi Thikaana....Rafi. (Gulp !!)
13.WHAT IS YOUR LIFE STORY?
Ans.Mess Around....Ray Charles. (All hail Random Blog-Tagging game !!!)
14.WHAT DO YOU WANT TO BE WHEN YOU GROW UP?
Ans.Hound Dog.....Elvis Presley. (Major major grin.....)
15.WHAT DO YOU THINK WHEN YOU SEE THE PERSON YOU LIKE?
Ans.Raja Ki Aayegi Baraat....Lata. (So that's how it's gonna be,is it ? Aah well....)
16.WHAT DO YOUR PARENTS THINK OF YOU?
Ans.Seven Curses.....Bob Dylan. (Gosh I hope not !!)
17.WHAT WILL YOU DANCE TO AT YOUR WEDDING?
Ans.If I Were Gay....Stephen Lynch. (..........)
18.WHAT WILL THEY PLAY AT YOUR FUNERAL?
Ans.Ooby Dooby !!.....Roy Orbison. (Figures.They'll prolly do sinful dances too.)
19.WHAT IS YOUR HOBBY/INTEREST?
Ans.The Ballad of Frankie Lee And Judas Priest....Bob Dylan. (Don't go mistakin' paradise/For that house down the road.)
20.WHAT IS YOUR BIGGEST SECRET?
Ans.Yeh Ab Aap Sochiye....Rafi/Asha. (Hahaha,that's right....you try and find out !)
21.WHAT DO YOU THINK OF YOUR FRIENDS?
Ans.This Will Make You Laugh....Nat King Cole. (Damn right,they always manage to crack me up)
So,that's that.Turned out to be more fun than I thought it would,and that's 40 minutes elegantly wasted.I hope this,and the planned trip to Lahore on the 14th do something to cheer me up.As it stands,I'm in for a pretty drab birthday tomorrow....
P.S.Anyone who reads this is tagged and has to do the same...(Which actually means myself and a nut named Musab)
Song Of The Week,"Meri Dastaan-e-Hasrat,Zahida Parveen.
Movie of The Week,"Strangers On A Train".(1951)
Book Of The Week,"Selected Short Stories Of Franz Kafka.
I'd rather stay stuck in eternal,hazy,sleety winters than wait for the gradual arrival of bloody summer with all the rituals that go with it;the putting away of the sweaters,the gradual transition from quilt-to-blanket-to cotton sheet-to birthday suit and the fateful day you turn the fan on for the first time in six months.(That is,officially,the longest sentence I've ever written.)But most of all,spring gets me melancholy.Every passing day seems like a waste,an opportunity fleeting away.Every friend that leaves the hostels to become a day-scholar is like another one in my long list of acquaintances I can't be bothered about.
And with the added torment of Gen. Mushtaq's death and that terrible week that's gone by,I'm on the razor's edge.In such a state,you can't blame me if I whine a little,(something I'm not too fond of,I hope) and do stuff that goes against my normal nature.
Now I'm pretty much against chain mail,(not the jingly jangly kind as worn by Palin and the lot in Monty Python And The Holy Grail,the other kind)chain messages,chain anything for that matter.But in my bored ramblings I stumbled on something of the chainspecies that kinda got me interesting.Call me a shill who's sold out to the dark side,but I'm taking the plunge.Here it goes...
Rules:
1. Put your MP3 player on shuffle.
2. For each question, press the next button to get your answer.
3. You must write the name of the song no matter what.
Here goes !!!
1.IF SOMEONE SAYS “IS THIS OKAY?” YOU SAY?
Ans.The Sun's Gonna Shine Again....Ray Charles. (Like hell it is,brain-meltingly hot)
2.WHAT WOULD BEST DESCRIBE YOUR PERSONALITY ?
Ans.I Shall be Free....Bob Dylan (I'm A Poet/I know it/Hope I don't blow it..???)
3.WHAT DO YOU LIKE IN A GUY/GIRL?
Ans.A sentimental mood.....Stan Getz (Do I now ???)
4.HOW DO YOU FEEL TODAY?
Ans.Everything Is Broken....Bob Dylan (Cor bloody hell !!! How'd it know that ??)
5.WHAT IS THE PURPOSE OF YOUR LIFE ?
Ans.Heartbreak Hotel....Elvis Presley (Knew it.Bloody knew it...Aah well.)
6.WHAT IS YOUR MOTTO?
Ans.Running Scared....Roy Orbison. (Hehehehe...pretty apt.)
7.WHAT DO YOUR FRIENDS THINK OF YOU?
Ans.The Lady is ATramp.....Frank Sinatra. ( *Blushes*)
8.WHAT DO YOU THINK OF YOUR PARENTS?
Ans.You're Gonna Quit Me.....bob Dylan. (What a horrid thought...)
9.WHAT DO YOU THINK ABOUT VERY OFTEN?
Ans.Yeh Raat Bheegi Bheegi.....Manna Dey/Lata. (I do,I swear I do.I'm a bloody disciple of this thing.)
10.WHAT IS 2+2?
Ans.Na Tha Kuch Tau Khudaa Tha....Jagjit Singh. (Again,pretty apt.)
11.WHAT DO YOU THINK OF YOUR BEST FRIEND?
Ans.Fly Me To The Moon.....Doris Day. (Aww shucks....*best friend edges away suspiciously*)
12.WHAT DO YOU THINK OF THE PERSON YOU LIKE ?
Ans.Na Aadmi Ka Koi Bharosa,Na Dosti Ka Koi Thikaana....Rafi. (Gulp !!)
13.WHAT IS YOUR LIFE STORY?
Ans.Mess Around....Ray Charles. (All hail Random Blog-Tagging game !!!)
14.WHAT DO YOU WANT TO BE WHEN YOU GROW UP?
Ans.Hound Dog.....Elvis Presley. (Major major grin.....)
15.WHAT DO YOU THINK WHEN YOU SEE THE PERSON YOU LIKE?
Ans.Raja Ki Aayegi Baraat....Lata. (So that's how it's gonna be,is it ? Aah well....)
16.WHAT DO YOUR PARENTS THINK OF YOU?
Ans.Seven Curses.....Bob Dylan. (Gosh I hope not !!)
17.WHAT WILL YOU DANCE TO AT YOUR WEDDING?
Ans.If I Were Gay....Stephen Lynch. (..........)
18.WHAT WILL THEY PLAY AT YOUR FUNERAL?
Ans.Ooby Dooby !!.....Roy Orbison. (Figures.They'll prolly do sinful dances too.)
19.WHAT IS YOUR HOBBY/INTEREST?
Ans.The Ballad of Frankie Lee And Judas Priest....Bob Dylan. (Don't go mistakin' paradise/For that house down the road.)
20.WHAT IS YOUR BIGGEST SECRET?
Ans.Yeh Ab Aap Sochiye....Rafi/Asha. (Hahaha,that's right....you try and find out !)
21.WHAT DO YOU THINK OF YOUR FRIENDS?
Ans.This Will Make You Laugh....Nat King Cole. (Damn right,they always manage to crack me up)
So,that's that.Turned out to be more fun than I thought it would,and that's 40 minutes elegantly wasted.I hope this,and the planned trip to Lahore on the 14th do something to cheer me up.As it stands,I'm in for a pretty drab birthday tomorrow....
P.S.Anyone who reads this is tagged and has to do the same...(Which actually means myself and a nut named Musab)
Song Of The Week,"Meri Dastaan-e-Hasrat,Zahida Parveen.
Movie of The Week,"Strangers On A Train".(1951)
Book Of The Week,"Selected Short Stories Of Franz Kafka.
Thursday, February 28, 2008
....Of Mourning
How do you mourn for someone ?
Someone you met barely once or twice,
But wished that you knew all your life.
How do you mourn when your senses have been shot ?
And your eyes,unaccustomed to tears,
Suddenly gush forth in silent agony.
How can you cry,when you know you can't ?
When your resolve is all that stands between;
A shattered friend and his tears.
How can you grieve for Father ?
For his children,your brothers and sisters,
With their eyes empty,yet o'erflowing.
How can you reconcile your mind ?
When you know there won't be any closure,
When your heart will never accept it.
How can you comfort a brother ?
Whose burden is much worse than yours,
And yet you can't imagine anything worse than what you feel.
How can you keep the nightmares away ?
When all you see is your own flesh and blood,
Irrecognizable in the fog of your fevered mind.
How can you banish the Black Dog ?
As it snarls,as it slinks,sinks down in your heart,
And you know that it's going to be a long spring.
In Loving Memory.....Lt. Gen. Mushtaq Baig,may he find eternal paradise.
May Allah grant Imran and all his family the strength to get through this horrendous time.
Someone you met barely once or twice,
But wished that you knew all your life.
How do you mourn when your senses have been shot ?
And your eyes,unaccustomed to tears,
Suddenly gush forth in silent agony.
How can you cry,when you know you can't ?
When your resolve is all that stands between;
A shattered friend and his tears.
How can you grieve for Father ?
For his children,your brothers and sisters,
With their eyes empty,yet o'erflowing.
How can you reconcile your mind ?
When you know there won't be any closure,
When your heart will never accept it.
How can you comfort a brother ?
Whose burden is much worse than yours,
And yet you can't imagine anything worse than what you feel.
How can you keep the nightmares away ?
When all you see is your own flesh and blood,
Irrecognizable in the fog of your fevered mind.
How can you banish the Black Dog ?
As it snarls,as it slinks,sinks down in your heart,
And you know that it's going to be a long spring.
In Loving Memory.....Lt. Gen. Mushtaq Baig,may he find eternal paradise.
May Allah grant Imran and all his family the strength to get through this horrendous time.
Thursday, February 7, 2008
....Of Munich '58
I have a knack for doing things in reverse.
Take Dylan, for example.I was a Dylan fan way before I had heard him sing.Way before that in fact.I had stumbled upon an article about him,gotten hooked and began to dug deep. I read up everything I could get my hands on,which wasn't very much I must admit.But it gave me an idea of what I was in for before I was floored by Like A Rolling Stone. I'm pretty sure that if I'd heard that brilliant nasal drone unawares,my experience would have been quite different.
I am a football freak,as any friend of mine would tell you.I support Manchester United..(the understatement of the century),have done so for at least ten years now.The first United match I saw was eight years ago.(He's loony,you say...and I don't blame you).
The same lopsided logic applies here.It wasn't the football United played that attracted me.Niether did the fact that they were the most successful and entertaining side in the world while I was growing up in the nineties.Or the fact that by the time I started following them religiously,they had won,or were on the verge of winning just about every trophy you could name.
The reason I fell in love with United was...Munich.
At the end of the Second World War,United were a struggling club ; almost bankrupt,their stadium badly bombed,without a full time manager.That's when they hit a rich vein of luck by signing a Scotsman, a former Manchester City and Liverpool player as manager.His name was Matt Busby.He inherited a football team in a very sad state,but he set about remedying it.The key word was Youth.Lads in school,or just out of school with a knack for playing fast,attacking,entertaining football.
A team was quickly built,and the work began.They won the FA cup in 1948,defeating a strong Blackpool side.Four years later,they were League champions.As the first great post-war team was maturing,the plan kicked into overdrive and the first batch of youngsters got signed.This batch was already proving to be outstanding,having won the FA Youth Cup an astonishing five times.Roger Byrne,Jackie Blanchflower,Bill Foulkes,Mark Jones,David Pegg,Liam Whelan,Eddie Colman and Duncan Edwards joined the first team,a product of the United youth and scouting program.
Something magical happened,this team of young lads turned into the leanest football machine in England.They won the League in 1956.And again in 1957.And they didn't just win it,they won it with style,with pace and attacking vigor that had never before been seen.They were not just a team anymore.,They were Matt Busby's little bounders.They were The Busby Babes !!
If ever they're playing in your town,
You must get to that football ground,
Take a look and you will see,
Football taught by Matt Busby.
Manchester,
Manchester United,
A bunch of bouncing Busby babes,
They deserve to be knighted.
So goes a famous terrace song,"Manchester Calypso"
But winning in England was just the beginning.There was a new adventure just beginning...Europe. England had long considered itself the home of football,and somewhat scorned upon the rest of the football playing world.The notion that since they had invented the game,they were by default the best team,was shattered when the Hungarians-The Mighty Magyars-,thrashed them at Wembley,England's home ground.English football had retreated into a Europhobic shell by the time the Babes arrived,but European club football was just starting.
The English Football Association-The FA-,myopically prohibited any English club from playing in Europe.But Matt Busby defied them and entered Manchester United in the european Cup.The Babes' first European game was at home to Belgian club Anderlecht.There was apprehension as to how the kids from England would faare against European opposition.But all those fears were allayed as the Babes licked Anderlecht 10-0.The adventure was on.
They reached the semi-final in their first attempt,ultimately losing to eventual winners Real Madrid in an entertaining encounter.But the stage was set,the torch had been lit and the Babes were ready for another try,confident that this time they could go all the way.1958 began on a positive note.Slow and steady,the Babes were advancing on three fronts.They were onthe way to reclaiming their third League title,were still in the FA cup,and had just won the first leg of the European Cup quarter final against Red Star Belgrade (Crevna Zvevda).
Full of anticipation,the team set out to Yugoslavia for the return leg of the match.On 6th February,1958,after a very intriguing game,they drew 3-3,thus ensuring a place in the semi final against AC Milan of Italy.The second Semi-Final in the second attempt.This time,there was a genuine hope that this team,whose average age was just 22,would go all the way.They flew back to England on a twin-propeller Elizabethan aircraft.With a blizzard raging,they had to stop at Munich to refuel.A quick refuel later,they were ready to take off.A first attempt failed,so did a second one.
There were thoughts about abandoning the trip for the day and heading back on the next,but the captain decided against it.The runway was covered with ice and slush,the wings were iced over.and there was heavy snowing when the plane set off for the third time.The plane set off,and just before the wheels left the tarmac,the plane skidded,slipped and crashed into a barrier.One of it's wings hit the side of a house and the plane caught fire.As survivors dragged themselves out of the burning wreckage,the greatest tragedy in english football had unfolded.
At 3.04 PM on 6th February 1958,23 people died,including eight of the Busby Babes-Geoff Bent,Roger Byrne,Eddie Colman,Mark Jones,David Pegg,Tommy Taylor and Billy Whelan.In addition,three club officials,Walter Crickmer,Tom Curry and Bert Whalley also perished,along with the plane staff and some journalists.The greatest football team in England was no more.
Duncan Edwards,Big Brilliant Dunc followed fifteen days later,after valiantly struggling for life,even saying that he was ready for the next match,two days before he passed away.Matt Busby,the manager,badly injured,struggled on.His injuries were so severe that he was twice given his Last Rites.
Back in England,the country was in shock.The whole of England,irrespective of club loyalties,was in mourning for the bunch of young lads who had set football ablaze with their own brand of football.The loss to Manchester United,and to British football was immense.Most of the Babes were playing for their national teams,and were a symbol of hope for the international tournaments to come.The crash not only deprived United of their greatest team,but also cost England the world cups of 1958 and 1962,which would have had entirely different outcomes if the likes of the great Duncan Edwards had played.
The story wasn't over yet,in a scene unimaginable today,United had to play their next competitive match just 13 days later.An immobile Matt Busby told assistant manager Jimmy Murphy,"Keep the flag flying,Jimmy".In barely two weeks,Murphy managed to string together a team that included survivors still recovering from the trauma,reserve team players and hastily bought replacements.This team astonishingly reached the final of the FA cup,before losing to Bolton 2-1 in an emotional final as Matt Busby,in crutches,watched from the sidelines.
Busby was the one who suffered the most.He head seen these kids grow up,and he considered himself responsible for the disaster by ignoring the FA's orders and playing in Europe.These feelings stayed with him for many years,while he rebuilt Manchester United from the ground up,just as he had done after the war.This resurgence was finally complete when,10 years after the crash,United beat Benfica from Portugal 4-1 at Wembley to finally lift the European Cup which they had set out for way back in 1957.Matt Busby was knighted that year for his services to football.This was the ultimate fruit of Busby's labours,it also served as his great catharsis....
That was the story that turned me into a United fan,and as I watched United win against Munich that night in 1999 in the greatest European final ever,my journey was complete.It would have been Sir Matt's 90'th birthday if he was alive,but it served as the greatest birthday gift nonetheless.
I am still a United fan;I miss classses to watch them play,skip marriages and functions,scream my head off when we score a goal(just ask my neighbours),and sulk for days when we lose.But Munich is still special.And every year,when the 6th of February comes nearer,I go through my collection of articles,videos and photos,and -call me asentimental sod if you will-get almost teary eyed.This year was the 50th anniversary of the crash.The club commemorated it splendidly,the fans did their part brilliantly,while I sit here typing my own silent remembrance.
Here's to the Babes.....The Flowers Of Manchester !!
Books Of The Month...Among The Thugs.Bill Buford.The Compulsive Spike Milligan.
Movies Of The Month...I'm Not There,Atonement,Sweeney Todd,There Will Be Blood.
Songs Of The Month....Bob Dylan And Wynton Marsalis,Jazz In New York City (Bootleg)
Take Dylan, for example.I was a Dylan fan way before I had heard him sing.Way before that in fact.I had stumbled upon an article about him,gotten hooked and began to dug deep. I read up everything I could get my hands on,which wasn't very much I must admit.But it gave me an idea of what I was in for before I was floored by Like A Rolling Stone. I'm pretty sure that if I'd heard that brilliant nasal drone unawares,my experience would have been quite different.
I am a football freak,as any friend of mine would tell you.I support Manchester United..(the understatement of the century),have done so for at least ten years now.The first United match I saw was eight years ago.(He's loony,you say...and I don't blame you).
The same lopsided logic applies here.It wasn't the football United played that attracted me.Niether did the fact that they were the most successful and entertaining side in the world while I was growing up in the nineties.Or the fact that by the time I started following them religiously,they had won,or were on the verge of winning just about every trophy you could name.
The reason I fell in love with United was...Munich.
At the end of the Second World War,United were a struggling club ; almost bankrupt,their stadium badly bombed,without a full time manager.That's when they hit a rich vein of luck by signing a Scotsman, a former Manchester City and Liverpool player as manager.His name was Matt Busby.He inherited a football team in a very sad state,but he set about remedying it.The key word was Youth.Lads in school,or just out of school with a knack for playing fast,attacking,entertaining football.
A team was quickly built,and the work began.They won the FA cup in 1948,defeating a strong Blackpool side.Four years later,they were League champions.As the first great post-war team was maturing,the plan kicked into overdrive and the first batch of youngsters got signed.This batch was already proving to be outstanding,having won the FA Youth Cup an astonishing five times.Roger Byrne,Jackie Blanchflower,Bill Foulkes,Mark Jones,David Pegg,Liam Whelan,Eddie Colman and Duncan Edwards joined the first team,a product of the United youth and scouting program.
Something magical happened,this team of young lads turned into the leanest football machine in England.They won the League in 1956.And again in 1957.And they didn't just win it,they won it with style,with pace and attacking vigor that had never before been seen.They were not just a team anymore.,They were Matt Busby's little bounders.They were The Busby Babes !!
If ever they're playing in your town,
You must get to that football ground,
Take a look and you will see,
Football taught by Matt Busby.
Manchester,
Manchester United,
A bunch of bouncing Busby babes,
They deserve to be knighted.
So goes a famous terrace song,"Manchester Calypso"
But winning in England was just the beginning.There was a new adventure just beginning...Europe. England had long considered itself the home of football,and somewhat scorned upon the rest of the football playing world.The notion that since they had invented the game,they were by default the best team,was shattered when the Hungarians-The Mighty Magyars-,thrashed them at Wembley,England's home ground.English football had retreated into a Europhobic shell by the time the Babes arrived,but European club football was just starting.
The English Football Association-The FA-,myopically prohibited any English club from playing in Europe.But Matt Busby defied them and entered Manchester United in the european Cup.The Babes' first European game was at home to Belgian club Anderlecht.There was apprehension as to how the kids from England would faare against European opposition.But all those fears were allayed as the Babes licked Anderlecht 10-0.The adventure was on.
They reached the semi-final in their first attempt,ultimately losing to eventual winners Real Madrid in an entertaining encounter.But the stage was set,the torch had been lit and the Babes were ready for another try,confident that this time they could go all the way.1958 began on a positive note.Slow and steady,the Babes were advancing on three fronts.They were onthe way to reclaiming their third League title,were still in the FA cup,and had just won the first leg of the European Cup quarter final against Red Star Belgrade (Crevna Zvevda).
Full of anticipation,the team set out to Yugoslavia for the return leg of the match.On 6th February,1958,after a very intriguing game,they drew 3-3,thus ensuring a place in the semi final against AC Milan of Italy.The second Semi-Final in the second attempt.This time,there was a genuine hope that this team,whose average age was just 22,would go all the way.They flew back to England on a twin-propeller Elizabethan aircraft.With a blizzard raging,they had to stop at Munich to refuel.A quick refuel later,they were ready to take off.A first attempt failed,so did a second one.
There were thoughts about abandoning the trip for the day and heading back on the next,but the captain decided against it.The runway was covered with ice and slush,the wings were iced over.and there was heavy snowing when the plane set off for the third time.The plane set off,and just before the wheels left the tarmac,the plane skidded,slipped and crashed into a barrier.One of it's wings hit the side of a house and the plane caught fire.As survivors dragged themselves out of the burning wreckage,the greatest tragedy in english football had unfolded.
At 3.04 PM on 6th February 1958,23 people died,including eight of the Busby Babes-Geoff Bent,Roger Byrne,Eddie Colman,Mark Jones,David Pegg,Tommy Taylor and Billy Whelan.In addition,three club officials,Walter Crickmer,Tom Curry and Bert Whalley also perished,along with the plane staff and some journalists.The greatest football team in England was no more.
Duncan Edwards,Big Brilliant Dunc followed fifteen days later,after valiantly struggling for life,even saying that he was ready for the next match,two days before he passed away.Matt Busby,the manager,badly injured,struggled on.His injuries were so severe that he was twice given his Last Rites.
Back in England,the country was in shock.The whole of England,irrespective of club loyalties,was in mourning for the bunch of young lads who had set football ablaze with their own brand of football.The loss to Manchester United,and to British football was immense.Most of the Babes were playing for their national teams,and were a symbol of hope for the international tournaments to come.The crash not only deprived United of their greatest team,but also cost England the world cups of 1958 and 1962,which would have had entirely different outcomes if the likes of the great Duncan Edwards had played.
The story wasn't over yet,in a scene unimaginable today,United had to play their next competitive match just 13 days later.An immobile Matt Busby told assistant manager Jimmy Murphy,"Keep the flag flying,Jimmy".In barely two weeks,Murphy managed to string together a team that included survivors still recovering from the trauma,reserve team players and hastily bought replacements.This team astonishingly reached the final of the FA cup,before losing to Bolton 2-1 in an emotional final as Matt Busby,in crutches,watched from the sidelines.
Busby was the one who suffered the most.He head seen these kids grow up,and he considered himself responsible for the disaster by ignoring the FA's orders and playing in Europe.These feelings stayed with him for many years,while he rebuilt Manchester United from the ground up,just as he had done after the war.This resurgence was finally complete when,10 years after the crash,United beat Benfica from Portugal 4-1 at Wembley to finally lift the European Cup which they had set out for way back in 1957.Matt Busby was knighted that year for his services to football.This was the ultimate fruit of Busby's labours,it also served as his great catharsis....
That was the story that turned me into a United fan,and as I watched United win against Munich that night in 1999 in the greatest European final ever,my journey was complete.It would have been Sir Matt's 90'th birthday if he was alive,but it served as the greatest birthday gift nonetheless.
I am still a United fan;I miss classses to watch them play,skip marriages and functions,scream my head off when we score a goal(just ask my neighbours),and sulk for days when we lose.But Munich is still special.And every year,when the 6th of February comes nearer,I go through my collection of articles,videos and photos,and -call me asentimental sod if you will-get almost teary eyed.This year was the 50th anniversary of the crash.The club commemorated it splendidly,the fans did their part brilliantly,while I sit here typing my own silent remembrance.
Here's to the Babes.....The Flowers Of Manchester !!
Books Of The Month...Among The Thugs.Bill Buford.The Compulsive Spike Milligan.
Movies Of The Month...I'm Not There,Atonement,Sweeney Todd,There Will Be Blood.
Songs Of The Month....Bob Dylan And Wynton Marsalis,Jazz In New York City (Bootleg)
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