Happy Birthday, Legend Not a story this is the truth

I am a humble supporter of Mohammedan. I started watching matches sitting in the stadium back in 1980, and that journey continues to this day. Especially Mohammedan–Abahani matches—be it football, cricket, or hockey—none are missing from my memory. Today, I want to share with my friends the story of one breathtaking Mohammedan–Abahani cricket match.

The date was 27 March 1995. The two most popular teams of the cricket league, Mohammedan and Abahani, were facing each other. From the morning itself, the stadium area was flooded with supporters of both teams. I also reached the stadium early. My seat was near the torch in Mohammedan’s western gallery. As usual, the moment I entered the ground, I fueled myself with a ten-taka plate of unwashed tehari.

Abahani were batting. Their Pakistani recruit Iqbal Sikandar scored 48, Harunur Rashid Liton made 43, Durjoy smashed 43 off just 19 balls, Nannu scored 36, Akram Khan added 29, and Saiful hit 22 off only 7 balls! Even though none of Abahani’s batters reached a fifty, they posted a massive 260 runs for 6 wickets in 45 overs, setting a daunting target for Mohammedan.

The late onslaught by Saiful and Durjoy felt like arrows piercing my chest. Saiful’s 22 off 7 balls was a show of raw power. Abahani’s camp was jubilant. Worry lines appeared on my forehead.

With the crowd swelling, there was no way to step outside for lunch. I survived on the fuel from that morning’s ten-taka tehari. The applause signaled that openers Nadeem Yunus and Nobel were ready to take the field. As Mohammedan’s innings began, my heart started pounding.

Under the scorching sun, Mohammedan began batting. At just 7 runs, Nobel was run out. When the team score reached 16, Mohammedan’s run machine, Pakistani recruit Nadeem Yunus, and Indian veteran Amre were both dismissed on consecutive deliveries by Abahani’s Pakistani bowler, Naved Anjum.

I never truly trusted veteran Amre, yet I hoped he might do something special in a big match. But when he was dismissed for a duck on the very first ball he faced, I was shattered. My nerves are weak to begin with, and losing 3 wickets for 16 runs completely unsettled me. Without looking left or right, I headed straight home by rickshaw.

Near Malibagh Railgate, I bought a Coke from a confectionery to soothe my throat. The shopkeeper was listening to the commentary on the radio. From there, I learned that only those three wickets had fallen. After reaching home, I took a shower, ate a little rice, and turned on the radio. Mohammedan were 86 for 4 in 20 overs. The only recognized batters left were Aminul Islam Bulbul and Selim Sahed. Mohammedan needed 174 runs in 25 overs—not impossible, but certainly tough.

The match now depended entirely on Bulbul, whose score at that point was just 3 runs. Right then, a ball from Durjoy lightly touched Bulbul’s bat and turned into an easy catch—but Iqbal Sikandar dropped it. Had that catch been taken, Abahani could have celebrated victory right there.

The brilliant Bulbul held one end firmly and kept the chase alive with support from the others.

Gradually, Mohammedan moved closer to the target. At one point, 29 runs were needed from the last 5 overs, with 2 wickets in hand. When Hasibul Hossain Shanto was out for 13 off 13 balls, 7 runs were required from the final 2 overs. At the crease were the country’s best batter Bulbul and left-arm bowler Morshed Ali Khan Suman.

In the 44th over, Naved Anjum conceded 6 runs, leveling the scores. Only 1 run was needed to win. I could barely breathe. It felt like watching someone walk a tightrope in a circus—everyone’s eyes fixed, expecting a fall any moment. That was the state of both teams’ supporters.

Suman was on strike. Abahani’s bowler was Pakistani Iqbal Sikandar. If Suman got out, the match would be tied—and Abahani would win due to fewer wickets lost. What would happen? Everyone was on edge.

On the radio, the microphone was with Manjur Hasan Mintu bhai. I lay face-down on my bed, eyes closed. In his electrifying voice, Mintu bhai described the final moments:

“Morshed Ali Khan Suman is ready. Bowler Iqbal Sikandar is ready.”

He walked in and bowled—no run. He returned to his mark. Again—no run. My heartbeat was racing. Would Mohammedan lose from here?

Sikandar prepared to bowl the third delivery. Mintu bhai’s voice still echoes in my ears:

“Sikandar comes in slowly… he bowls… Suman plays a powerful stroke—straight drive! The ball is racing towards the boundary… and it’s FOUR! Mohammedan have won!”

I screamed at the top of my lungs, “Goaaaal! Goaaaal! Mohammedan have won!”
In that moment, I completely forgot it was a cricket match.

Later, the headline in Inqilab read:
“One of the most unforgettable matches in cricket league history.”

I witnessed Bulbul’s truly captain’s knock that day—a magnificent 75 off 58 balls. Many supporters still remember that innings. Such nail-biting matches and packed galleries are rarely seen in domestic cricket these days. We no longer hear voices like Manjur Hasan Mintu, Abdul Hamid, Khodboksh Mridha, or Nur Ahmed on the radio.

I have been a witness to many such thrilling matches. In my leisure time, I keep searching for memories of those timeless games. Somewhere deep in my heart, the melodies of those faded days keep playing—days that still call me back.

Happy Birthday, Legend Aminul Islam Bulbul.