Gole Bazaar 1960s - Kamal Sports

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Those days there was only one sports goods shop in Gole Bazaar called Kamal Sports. It was in the line of the GOG Fancy Shop. The Owner was a good-looking Sardarjee, pleasant to talk to. He had a toddler son who I thought was so lucky to have the pick of whatever he wanted to play or fiddle with.

This is rather a thought. I can't say that a Bookseller's son would happily read all the books of his dad's shop for free. Rather not...he would possibly envy the Nair Canteen's son.

Well, Nair had several kids and the eldest was a poor eater since he was a diabetic. He used to look after the kitchen and must have been happy just smelling the Dosa, Pesarat and Sambar (like me nowadays). The youngest kid about 8 liked to pretend that he was a Customer. As soon as his dad drops him back from school, he would run to the back row of tables and order: "Ek Masala Dosa! Kam mircha jyada ghee aur piyaj!" and wait ceremoniously for his order to materialize. I hear he is now in Dubai with a thriving business.

When my son duly arrived, I used to seat him in the front basket of my pushbike and drive to Gole Bazaar to the only toy shop manned by a very cheerful Gujerati couple. They used to take him in their lap and show him the latest arrivals with demos and we would settle on one toy per week. And the couple were always having one or more infants and toddlers sitting on their lap. And I used to think what a lark it is for the kids of toy-shop owners. One day after a decade I asked them how many kids they have. And that was a foolish thing I rarely do...ask a leading question. And I bit my tongue furiously when they replied rather sportingly that they are childless and the kids that used to run around were their neighbors'.

Kamal Sports Sardarjee used to supply carrom boards to all the Halls. Those days the craze was the so-called Match Boards. They were huge and had big pockets, not round circles but sort of arcs of a big circle. And the boards were so smooth that if you hit the striker powerfully, it would rebound, ricochet and weave a pattern of straight line designs very nice to watch. And would scatter all coins along their way.

I knew that Bridge is a passionate game with lots of postmortem and acrimony between partners. But I never thought Carroms could also have fanatic devotees. There was one Dr P in our Faculty Hostel who possessed a rare variety of striker made of I don't know what material; could be ivory. He would always carry that striker in his pant-pocket ready for any game that he would chance by. And he would never ever allow anyone else, including his partner, to touch it. Then there was this other Dr G who would buy a huge big tin of costly Boric Acid powder (used as a high-class lubricant on the board...the janata had to do with the poor man's Chalk Powder which is as sticky as Colgate Tooth Powder). Dr G would pour a little of his Boric Acid in a homeopathy tube and bring it to the Common Room. And would pull it out only when he plays the Game; and would take the tube back as soon as he is done. And there was this Dr N who had a fancy set of coins in a tin; and he would never leave it in the Common Room...he would carry it back home.

Crazy guys!

There was this Common Room Incident that became a tale told and retold many times:

This brash Punju Dr P learned a few gaalis (juicy oaths) in Kannada from his friend. And came one day to the Common Room to play a Singles Carrom Match with this gentlest Mysorean Dr M. And as the game proceeded with a dozen onlookers, Dr P would utter one vile Kannada oath after the other as and when he plays and misses. Dr M gently asked him not to say these things because they are vulgar and distract his concentration. But Punjus being used to such bawdy oaths, Dr P didn't care.

After the fourth or fifth offense, Dr M lost his cool and got up and uttered one and only one vile Punju gali aimed at Dr P, who got up from his seat and in a couple of seconds they were at each others' throat and about to come to blows.

Upon which, this Bengali Dr B ran in and tried to separate them with all his might.

Upon which this wily Keralite Dr K ran in and pulled Dr B with all his might scolding him:

"What the hell are you doing? I was waiting and waiting to watch some real good fight in this God-forsaken Hostel for TWO years; and when God ultimately granted me my boon, you try and spoil the tamasha. Let go, or I will kill you!"

End of fights...




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