Game On

I am not going anywhere.

Biren, why don’t you understand, things are really bad. We need to go to Uncle Angamba’s village where our people are in majority. Father is calling us again and again.

Sonam, this is where I was born and have lived all my life. This is where I have all my friends since childhood. This is where I played football for the first time and this is where I truly belong.

You are right but the current situation is not conducive. Brothers are turning against each other. There is loot, arson, killings… people are getting slaughtered. Once things normalise, we can come back, but today we must leave.

Your brother Sonam is right. Biren, there is no time to waste. Just take a few essentials and come. Others from the village are also leaving and moving together will provide for protection. Do not carry any sharp objects. We will go in peace and will not get aggressive at anyone…a soft but stern voice from another end of the room.

It was Laishram, Biren’s father, and the son did not have the heart to argue with him. He picked up a few things from the cupboard and packed them in this kit bag containing his football shoe and jersey. For him, there was nothing more precious than his football kit. He then went out where he found about twenty of the neighbours were waiting, all looking sad and had fear in their eyes. For all had heard the gory stories of mayhem that was happening on the hills and in the valleys of Manipur.

In the cover of darkness, the fearful twenty moved slowly but steadily. They had to go about fifteen odd kilometres. Like in war times of old, it seemed the rioters were also following a standard play time for their war games. They would be playing blood sport from sunrise to sunset. In the late evenings and night, they usually allowed people to cross over to buy essentials and move from one place to another. This was also the time when the police and armed forces took to patrolling.

The group would have done about five odd kilometres when the eerie silence of the night was broken by a huge war cry and a bunch of people with swords and machetes ran out towards the escaping people who turned around to flee to safety. Just when they turned, another wave of shouting people with arms raised rushed towards them from the other side. This looked like a perfect ambush. The refugees now froze and waited for the onrushing killers from both the sides. Some raised their hands pleading to the killers to spare them and others started praying to their god to save them. Gods must have been sleeping at night and killers had their own reasons to complete the task. Who knows, they too, may have lost some of their loved ones to people from the other side similarly? One man with a sword rushed at Biren who fell down on his knees as the sharp edge cut through his left arm and blood oozed out. Biren knew that the next strike would be his last. Just then his killer looked at his victim and shouted… Are you Biren Singh?

Yes, he said.

The killer called his other folks… Arrey, Biren, the football player is here!

The frenzied mob who had picked on the other escapees as their targets, stopped in their acts and all moved towards him. Biren did not understand the reason for this strange behaviour. He could not remember having hurt so many people in life who would want to retaliate en masse.

One of the killers with a machete in hand from which blood was dripping shouted… Prove it that you are Biren!

A profusely bleeding Biren pointed towards his bag which fallen near the place where he stood. The other man picked up the bag, unzipped it and turned it upside down. Out came a few clothes, a set of football shoes, a folder and a tin box that opened up as it hit the ground. A few medals fell out of the box which the man had picked up. Another person picked up the folder and opened the same to find newspaper clippings and photographs that all had Biren’s face prominently displayed with the trophies and medals.

This man is definitely Biren, the captain of the state’s football team.  Take him to safety immediately…. No one will attack him now.

A couple of men caught Biren’s injured arm and tied a cloth tightly to stop any further bleeding. They then pushed him gently towards a house nearby but Biren resisted their initiative. He shouted… I will not go alone. What am I without my family?

Which of these people are part of your family?

All of these people are part of my extended family… Biren spoke and looked around him. Now only ten of the twenty were standing… all badly injured but alive. He saw that his younger brother Sonam was still around but could not see his father, mother or Anuobi, his loving sister. A man who appeared to be the leader of the killer pack shouted with full authority…Ok. No more of these people are to be killed. Take all those alive to safety and give them medical aid. Make sure someone keeps constant guard. Captain Biren has to be protected at all costs. He is our hero and state's treasure and no harm can ever come on to him.

All the injured and alive folks were taken to a school premise where they were given first aid, water and biscuits. The survivors sat around Biren and looked at him as their saviour. Not a word was spoken. The people stayed there for three days and nights when the news trickled in that peace had been restored in the city. They had also physically recovered to some degree but were mentally completely devastated. Each of the families had lost someone or another… a brother, a sister, a mother, a father or a child. They had not even got the opportunity to give them a burial. All had been cleared from the places where they had fallen by the local authorities, just the way they do to daily waste.

Biren and his people started a long walk back to their homes. When they reached there, they were in for a shock. Their homes had been reduced to ashes. They just stood there for a while and then walked closer to their homes to see if they could pick anything that could be salvaged. Sadly, nothing remained. The other people in the vicinity remained in the safety of their homes and did not care to offer shelter, food or water to the people who had long been their extended families. Today, they were complete strangers. The despondent people, with nowhere to go, decided to once again undertake the journey to their uncle’s village where they still had relatives living.

Biren and Sonam stayed back at their uncle’s house. He was treated at a hospital for the arm that had been injured in the ghastly attack on the saddest night of his life. After recovery, he started working in his uncle’s furniture workshop. Sonam returned to college where he represented the university team and the second division team. Biren never touched the ball again and he never even went to see Sonam play.

After almost six years, the brothers were delighted to hear a piece of good news. They got a letter from the government which said that all those who had lost their houses in the riots could go back to the same addresses. The houses had been rebuilt and they would be handed over to the rightful owners or their legal heirs. The brothers took some of the available papers and along with their uncle went to the designated office.  After a couple of rounds of meeting, they were able to get the ownership papers and keys. The brothers shifted to their house, named it Anuobi and put up a big picture of their parents at the entrance.

While he never forgot the tragedy, time acted as the best medicine over the cuts and bruises of the mind. The old neighbours gradually the brothers with warmth, invited them to their homes and at local festivities. The acrimony of that one phase in life had given way to peace and joy in the area and the brothers were happy in their new lives. The divisions of race, religion, caste and creed had slowly dissolved and the scars too had healed with time, protected under thick, dried scabs. Over time only a few marks remained.

One day, the man who had identified him on the fateful day came and met Biren.  

Brother, we would like you to coach our football team for a tournament happening in a month from now. It is a very prestigious tournament and teams from all over the state are expected to participate. We have some good and talented players but, somehow, they are unable to settle down as a coordinated and a winning team. We need a good coach- cum- manager and there is no one better than you to do the job. And we also want Sonam to play in the team.

Thank you for the offer but I have completely given up on football since the last six years. I will ask Sonam to play but please excuse me.

Biren da, we have boys from all races and communities in the team. Many of them are from this neighbourhood. If they play and win, it will help the boys find slots in bigger teams and their lives will change. The name of the colony will be in news and it will bring cheer to all of us here.

Biren looked up at the man whose people had taken away his parents and sister but then remembered him for having given him a second lease of life. He closed his eyes and remembered his father, the man who instilled into him his love for football. He would take him to see local matches and encourage him to keep playing. What would he have done today…he thought and soon he got his answer. He smiled back at the waiting man and nodded his head. For him football was his true love and religion and he had just been offered one more chance to get back to life… only football could be the way to have a life of happiness and peace.

Next day, Biren went to the market to buy a new set of football shoes and jersey. In the evening, he walked to the playground and shouted aloud…

Boys…run four rounds of the field in good speed and then we will do free hand exercises. 

Game on!

SS

NB. Inspired by a story I saw om Amazon Prime