The Sports Day

It was a sizzling hot summer afternoon. Summer vacation had begun and it must have been a holiday as father was also home. After the midday meal we were confined indoors and were mandated to sleep. The rooms were made dark, even the corners of the windows were sealed lest the peeking light may disturb and distract us. There was no ACs those days, only whizzing ceiling fans.

“There is a cricket match at 3 and I don't want to miss it” whispered my brother sadly as we lay in our bed and watched the laboriously spinning fan. We were allowed to step out only after 5, when the heat moderated. But, the match would not wait for so long.

While my brother grumbled, I dozed off. However, I was awakened soon after by a noisy disturbance. My father was seething with anger. He had woken up to discover his elder son missing and the veranda door ajar.

It so happened that once everyone had gone to sleep, my brother tip-toed out of the room to the veranda, unlatched the door and emerged out in the courtyard. He then climbed on the boundary wall and jumped on the other side and ran to the nearby ground “KD Maidan”. My father, furious beyond control now, strode towards the Maidan.

The Maidan was like a stadium, cemented gallery and the central ground aesthetically fenced with thick iron wires. The cricket match was in full swing when he arrived there. My brother was a good player, and he was batting at that moment. He had just hit a boundary and was about to face the next ball. The situation was electrifying and exciting. The ball had been thrown and at that precise moment my brother saw my father. He threw the bat and ran much to the surprise of the fellow players and the thin spectators . The cricket match had soon turned into a race. My father running behind him while all the players running away in all possible directions fearing a thrashing. Everyone was aware of my father’s stormy rage.

My father had been an athlete during his younger days but my brother beat him hands down. It was like the “deer and lion race”. One running for life and another chasing for food. The one running for life won.

Fuming and huffing my father returned home with a feeling of defeat. Perhaps to ebb his anger he went out again, this time to buy some grocery items. But, as fate would have been, my brother who was loitering around unexpectedly came face to face with him in the bazaar. Now, I must mention that venturing on the road sides and bazaar area were strictly prohibited due to the continuous movement of vehicles. We consciously abided the rule but unfortunately my brother broke the rule and that too on a rough day.

My brother was in just an arm’s distance away. But his agility and daring manoeuvrability helped him to escape from becoming an easy prey. The second race of the day began. This race was however like street jumping which included running, climbing, swinging, vaulting, jumping, rolling and crawling. Onlookers must have mistaken this bizarre event as some non-combative military training. The outcome was the same, my brother again ran like a champion.

It had started to turn dark now and I thought of taking matters in my own hand. I went out in search of him. Khalari being a small sleepy town then, one could comb-out the area in few minutes. In no time I came face to face with him in an alley, but even before I could accost him, he started to run. Perhaps, some Olympic sprinter’s spirit had possessed him that day.

“It will be night in sometime, where will you go then” I called out concernedly.

He halted and then walked back to me hesitantly. “Will I get a good beating if I go home” He uttered. Fear and guilt could be felt from his shivering tone.

“Yes, beating is inevitable but you can lessen it, just come alone with me and straightway go to study” I was now acting like an elder one.

Many of our misdoings were forgiven earlier by exhibiting being seriously engrossed in studies. The same tactics was implemented again. However, the moment father entered the house he went ahead and gave a beating to him. Perhaps the intervening hours had ebbed his anger hence the beating could be rated as “a mild one”.

Amidst all these, my brother between his sobs declared “I surrendered otherwise you would have never been able to catch me”.

An uncanny silence prevailed.

Father glared at him stormily and threateningly. I thought of immediately raising the rating of the beating. But the very next moment, to our surprise and relief, he burst out in laughter.

The cricket match was sadly abandoned that day but it wasn’t less than any Sports Day.