Sorcerer’s Stone

It was one of the most important days in the life of the young boy. He had been dreaming about it ever since the tournament had started. His rag tag team had surprised many fancied opponents and reached the finals of the football tournament. He himself had played a stellar role in the matches preceding that day scoring a number of goals. It was quite certain to the organizers that no matter which team won the finals but the man of the tournament will be this young lad.

The night before he hardly slept…his heart was beating fast. He was visualizing the game next day. He didn’t remember when he finally fell asleep but woke up early that Sunday morning to the radio blaring aloud with Mahalaya or the homecoming of the Goddess Durga which no Bengali would ever miss. His father, as usual would on this day each year, get up very early and tune into the station on an old Murphy radio set. His father made the early morning tea and shaking the boy said, “wake up….Shibu otho….” Just as he was about to dip the Marie Biscuit in the tea, he heard his mother shout…..”Don’t eat anything today till I tell you to.” And we all know mothers; they always have it their way.

The boy was asked to take an early morning bath and wear a fresh set of clothes as he was ushered to the place where innumerable gods and goddesses were either seated on a platform or hung from the frames above. It was quite a secular picture with Hindu Gods seated and Guru Nanak, Jesus Christ and others watching down. The mother was rubbing the sandal wood on a special stone after dipping the wood in water. With the ring finger on her right hand she put a Chandan tilak on the forehead of the lad…..this had nothing to do with his football match although he had heard from his dad that whenever the famed East Bengal and Mohun Bagan would meet in any football tournament, both the teams would go to Kalighat Mandir at Kolkata for divine help to ensure victory. The mother was, on the contrary, seeking divine assistance to make sure the boy, henceforth, would distance himself from the daily routine of football from morning till evening and find more time for school books.

With tilak on his forehead, the boy was reminded of the magnum opus Mughal-e-Azam where Jodha Bai hands over the sword to Emperor Akbar as he went into the battle with his defiant son Jahangir.  But today, instead of the sword, the mother smilingly picked up a plate whereon lay a small blue stone and a piece of cloth. “I don’t need this Ma.” The boy protested but the mother quickly wrapped the stone in the cloth and tied the same to the boy’s arm resembling the band captains wear on football fields today.

The parents had been trying their level best for days, months and years to see their only son take an interest in studies like he did with sports. They had tried everything….love, care, attention, tutors, shouting, caning, belting….but nothing seemed to work. In fact the boy’s scores were going from bad to worse. He was barely managing to cross over into the next class each year. The parents were very worried.  While the father was ever so optimistic that his son one day will become good in studies and make him proud, the mother refused to wait till eternity to see such a day. She was determined to change his fortunes and do it quickly.

The mother knew of a Kala Pandit who was also working in the government office with her. Kala Pandit was someone a lot of office goers had great faith in. There were stories, no less than the miracles of angels,of how he had changed the lives of many and taken people from despair to great happiness. The gravest of illness and the most difficult of times had beaten a hasty retreat at the timely intervention of the Kala Pandit. The mother took Panditji’s appointment and dragged the boy to his residence at  Sarojini Nagar. No sooner Panditji appeared in his white dhoti and kurta, the mother bent down in complete respect and surrender and touched his feet. She then pushed the boy to do the same.

“This is my son Panditji. He is very intelligent  and passes his exams without studying at all. Please do something that he come first in his class.” The boy for once felt happy…intelligent beta mera…ha ha. Taking to serious studies was one thing but suddenly his mother’s expectation of him coming first in class was definitely too much. He felt like asking, “yeh PC Sorcar hai kya?” He looked at the white haired man carefully and said, when all the caning of the Irish Brothers at school failed, what magic is our man going to perform on me…let us see and have some fun.

The old man took the boy’s palm in his hand and starting saying things like he will live for long…he will have many cars around him always and become a famous man BUT there is a problem with one line which is currently preventing success and glory to come his way.

“Panditji please do something…I am begging you Panditji.”

“He needs to wear ‘neelam’ blue stone always. You can come and collect the Neelam next week because they come in various sizes and have different powers. We have to calculate the potency of the stone that will work for your son.”

“Neelam! Panditji, I have heard is very strong. If it suits you then it can do you a world of good but if it doesn’t and you keep wearing it, your fortunes will take a dive for the worse.”

“Yes, you are right.” said the old man. “We will make your son wear the neelam with a thread or cloth for about 10 days for testing and if nothing bad happens during that phase, we will have the stone affixed on a gold ring for him to wear on his finger forever. I am very certain, what I will give him will work and you will then be happy that you came to me.”

The mother happily gave Kala Pandit his dakshina of Rs 200 which was quite a sum in those days. The boy kept on protesting that he did not want any stone on his finger and all this was mumbo-jumbo but all his reasoning fell on deaf ears. The mother already had sparks in her eyes…going to school auditorium and seeing her intelligent son get prizes in front of all and the thunderous applause in her ears drowned all other voices and shouts of our budding footballer. After a week the sorcerer’s stone came home.

And today on Mahalaya day, the mother was tying the Neelam on the son’s arm. She then said a small prayer as she put her hand over his head. This was an auspicious day and Ma Durga and Neelam will work beautifully to make sure the next 10 days will pass by without any incident. With schools closed for many of these days plus the fun of Durga Puja will all ensure the boy would soon become the Lord of the Ring and a ring of halo would soon glow behind him. The very thought of this itself happening made the mother happy beyond words.

The boy packed his football kit and left for Chittaranjan Park with his team mates for the annual Vijayadashami Football Tournament Final where they faced the local team, Bengal Tigers. The locals there were all rooting for the local team even before the match commenced. The boy’s father who had sown seeds of the game in the boy by taking him after school to DCM and Durand Cup matches at Ambedkar Stadium, Delhi reached the venue and wished the boy luck as he stood quietly in the crowd.

The match got off to a rapturous start with the golden boy hitting the wood work within the first 30 seconds which almost silenced the home fans. The Bengal Tigers settled down and then started waves of attacks on the boy’s team. The goal keeper was a brave lad. Despite the ground being quite barren with no trace of grass, he dived from one side to another to deny the other team from scoring. The score remained zero-zero at lemon break.

After the half time, the boy’s team started playing spirited football and were all over the locals. The boy found his touch but not the goal. Three times he kicked into the goal but almost every time the goalkeeper or the woodwork came in the way. The opponents realized the danger and started playing rough. Every time the boy touched the ball, they would tackle him badly and the referee, who was a local Bong, would not even whistle for a foul. Around the end of normal time, the referee, for what was no more than a firm nudge by a visiting defender, pointed to the dreaded spot in favour of the Bengal Tigers.  A firm kick and the ball found its way to the back of the net. The crowd erupted in sheer ecstasy and hardly waited for the referee’s last whistle for the game to formally close.

The match was lost. The boy won his individual prize, a small miniature of a man with a ball on his feet on a wooden stand. Disappointed of course but not humiliated, their team was cheered aloud as they went up to receive their runner’s up trophy by the well informed but partisan crowd.

Next day despite his mother’s protests, the boy went to Kala Pandit. No bowing down, no touching of feet this time. No sooner the man came out to open the door, the boy stretched out his hand giving away the stone back.

 "It did not suit me”. 

“Why? What happened?”

The boy simply turned around and walked away. The Sorcerer’s Stone had lost to Soccer Ball.

The father smiled. The boy had just turned a strong man. The stone had actually worked. 

SS