Ferjan Engineer – A life enriched by golf

The story of Ferjan Engineer in the fond words of his writer son Tariq Engineer

1978
Ferjan Engineer played good golf for a long period of time

Feature by Tariq Engineer

April 28, 2016: When I was young, and I mean really young, still in single digits, my dad was the best golfer I knew. He been a junior All-India Amateur champion, reached the semi-finals of the All-India Amateur and could claim, at his peak, a handicap of one.
For a beginner with a 36 handicap, that seemed otherworldly.

Of course, as I learned later, it was actually down to more earthly attributes such as a little bit of talent, lots of hard work and the kind of single-minded dedication that led him to skip college in order to play in golf tournaments around the country.

“If I wasn’t studying, I was playing golf,” my dad, Ferjan Engineer, now 69, told me earlier this month. “I would spend a minimum of three hours a day [on the course]. I would play a round and then hit balls until the sun went down.”

But I am getting ahead of myself. When dad first started, children weren’t allowed on the Willingdon Club golf course in Mumbai. In fact, he only picked up a club by accident. My grandfather was on the practice range and got a phone call. Dad went to get him and then suddenly found himself alone with a pile of balls and a few clubs after my grandfather went off to reception to answer the phone.
“What does any kid do? He picks up the sticks and tries to hit the balls.”

juniorsDad was either nine of ten at the time and he was hooked instantly. Children’s sets weren’t available back then either, so Bruno D’costa, the club pro, cut down a handful of discarded clubs – a couple of woods and three or four irons – and then handmade a putter, forging the head himself, for dad. D’Costa capped off the ensemble with a little canvas bag into which he popped the clubs.

Dad now had clubs, but he still had to figure out where to play. “At that point, the caddies were allowed to play three times a week – Monday, Wednesday and Friday between 9 and 12,” dad said. “So I used sneak off with them in the hope that I would not be noticed.
“Maybe I was noticed, but nobody ever said anything.”

Along with the caddies, he also improvised. The land on what is now the Lala Lajput Rai College that faces the Haji Ali Dargah used to be a huge maidan. So dad and the caddies would dig holes in the ground, fill them with empty round cigarette tins, put a stick in the tin to serve as a flag and use that for target practice.

“You didn’t have the luxury of saying what club should I play? Whatever was available, you damn well hit the ball with that. You learned, because you didn’t have anything more lofted, to cut a six-iron out of a bunker. Or you learned to hook a low six-iron to make the ball run on to the green. “

A couple of years later, when it was clear my dad was getting pretty good, my grandfather convinced the club to let children have restricted use of the course and also the use of the practice range.

But Dad still couldn’t play in club competitions though, which is why he played his first All-India Amateur before he played his first Willingdon club event.

Armed with an 8-handicap in 1961, dad took the train to Delhi. “I didn’t lose in the first round. And didn’t lose in the second round. And then I didn’t lose in the third round.

“I’m not sure how happy my dad was about this because it cost him a little more money. I think it was a combination of ‘Oh, God, what’s he doing and I’m proud of him.’”

His first round opponent was Calcuttan called Danny Mazda, who, according to dad, said he would eat his hat – a green number with a feather on it – if he lost to a 15-year-old. Dad beat him on the 19th hole. The next day, as dad was walking down the second hole, Mazda popped out the bushes, gave dad a cheery wave, took his hat off his head, chomped on it, and put it back.
“And he said ’Parsi, go get him.’”

Dad won that match on the 18th and made it to the last 16. “That told me I could play,” he said.

However, the next year was rather different. “I went thinking I was this wonderful golfer and I was four up with four to play in the first round. I thought I had the match in my pocket. I then proceeded to double the last four holes to lose on the 19th.

“It taught me a very good lesson. Ever since then I have never ever felt a match was over until one was shaking hands. “

Dad went on to win the Boys All-India Amateur in 1965 and the next year finished third in the Western India Amateur held at the Bombay Presidency Golf Club, shooting 69-71 on the weekend (a combined 2-under par).

“One of the sad things about that is my 69 actually tied the course record but Pit [RK Pitamber] came in in the three-ball behind me with a 68 and in all the excitement my name never went on the board.”

Dad went off to England for the next seven years and golf took a backseat while he qualified as a chartered accountant. He returned in 1973 and a year later reached the semi-finals of the All-India Amateur before losing 4&3 to Biloo Sethi.

However, he was left off the Indian team that was selected to play the Victoria Cup, a then annual one-round tournament between an Indian team and a Sri Lankan team held prior to the Sri Lankan-Amateur.

That ticked dad off so he entered as a private participant and ended up winning by one shot from Sethi and Malik with a one-under par score.

“That was extremely satisfying because it was no lightweight team. You had Biloo Sethi there. Ashok Malik, Vikramjeeet Singh, Bunny Singh, Pin Fernando. That’s about 20 All-India Amateurs between them.

“It was particularly satisfying to hear the Indian ambassador, who came to give away the prizes, say ‘perhaps the Indian Golf Union should have a look at the way they select the teams.’”

Dad married mom two years later and that bought an end to his playing serious golf. “With a young family, you can’t practice. Yes, you can play. But you have to realise that at this point onwards, you are not going to be playing competitive regional or national golf.”

His competitive fix was now confined to local club events. He won the Janjira Cup, the Willingdon Club championship, in 1978 and 1979 (he first won it in 1967) and again in 1990.

He’s proud of winning club championships 23 years apart because it means he played pretty good golf for a sizeable period of time.
Sixty years of playing golf has also enriched my dad’s life in ways he doesn’t think any other sport could.

“It is the only sport where you are expected to call a penalty on yourself,” he said. “And you do it, instinctively. It is the only sport where you play against yourself, meaning against the course, which is essentially against yourself.

“These two things are vitally important as you grow up because if you continually try to surpass yourself, you will always get ahead. “
And then there is the circle of friends he has made along the way.

“Golf has given me is lifelong friendships. I have never known the same atmosphere in any other sport that I have known in golf.”

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