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From Farrokh to Freddie, 1969


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Farrokh Bulsara was born into a Farsi family, who traced their roots to the Zoroastrian communities of Iran. Once persecuted for their beliefs, the Farsi had immigrated to India. The Bulsaras were from Bombay, but had moved to the Zanzibar archipelago of the east coast of Africa to work in the British civil service. Little Farrokh grew up in Stonetown, in a quiet seaside town where his two parents would host esteemed guests from the civil service for a proper English teatime. Farrokh wanted for nothing; his family were part of the Zanzibar upper class and the skinny, shy little boy needed only hold out his hand for it to be filled with a glass of freshly squeezed orange juice. Farrokh’s only hardship were the oversized teeth that ate up half his face. He mightn’t have been much to look at, that sickly, buck-toothed Farsi boy, but his voice was a thing of extraordinary power. The boy was so timid that he hardly left his mother’s side, but one day she told him that she had great plans for him, and that he’d be leaving Zanzibar to study at a great school in India. There he would receive a proper education so he could become the pride of the Bulsaras. Farrokh was eight years old, and the idea of going so far away was both exciting and terrifying to him.

 

Farrokh was sent to board at Saint Peter’s School for Boys, some 150 miles from Bombay. He was determined to honour his family, and took his studies seriously. His grades were excellent, and in her weekly letters his mother congratulated him for doing so well even so far away from home. Sometimes, in his room at Saint Peter’s, he missed the turquoise sea of Zanzibar. He dove deep into his thoughts, meditating in the Zoroastrian tradition; the religion his kindly mother had taught him. He thought about seeing his mother again, perhaps even returning to Zanzibar. Would he too work in the British civil service one day? He found strength and comfort in his studies, and respect and admiration from his friends. They called him ‘Freddie’. HIs voice drew admiration from all who heard it – he was even compared to Lata Mangeshkar, the Bollywood singer whose vocal range covered three octaves. Was it possible that something about the shape of Freddie’s mouth, his large teeth and his four extra incisors, were behind his gift? Regardless of the cause, Freddie learned to live with his appearance by submersing himself in music. The school’s principal heard rumours of the student with an extraordinary talent, and called the boy into his office to see if they were true. The boy’s performance blew him away, and he decided to write to Farrokh’s parents straight away – Freddie needed to be enrolled in a music class worthy of his talent.

 

Meanwhile, revolution was raging in Zanzibar. A thousand African rebels armed with machine guns and rifles had descended upon the streets of Stonetown. British civil servants and American researchers had been taken prisoner. The insurgents called for independence; a cloud of terror and uncertainty hung over Zanzibar. The airport was seized by the armed rebels, and many of the colonists had no choice but to flee to mainland Africa by boat. The turquoise waters of Zanzibar were now a place of heartbreak. As members of the British administration, Freddie’ parents were in danger too. They decided to emigrate to London, the great city at the heart of the Empire. They told their son to join them there, and after long years apart Freddie finally re-joined his family in a new country, amidst a foreign culture. Freddie could not bring himself to depart again after so long a journey, opting instead to enrol in an art school in Isleworth. London was no Bombay; it was the city of rock music, the cultural home of the Beatles and Jimi Hendrix. Freddie fell in love with the English music scene, with its rebels who played and sang in pubs, parks and gig rooms packed to the rafters with adoring fans. Isleworth was full of budding musicians who dreamt of forming a band and making it big: it was there that Freddie met a guitarist named Brian May and a drummer named Roger Taylor. They played in a group called Smile; they were good, but couldn’t seem to break out of the pub scene. When their singer quit the band, Freddie decided to make himself the frontman. His voice was a weapon, but he knew the group needed to be rechristened if they wanted to stand a chance. Their name needed to be short and easy to remember, but provocative. Regal, gay, traditional, irreverent - Queen had it all!

 

Alan Alfredo Geday

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