Page 26 - FATE & DESTINY

FATE & DESTINY

“What?” I said, turning back to him.
“You were too modish on the pitch yesterday. How could you?”
Head hanging low, I said, “I—”
“I pity you, buddy,” he said. His steady glare said he hated me as much as he was furious. “Do one thing. Quit
playing football.”
I plodded away into the classroom. A squabble of boisterous noise wafted from the corner of the classroom.
“He could have punched the ball,” said the class monitor. “Ssh!”
The class teacher walked in soon. He had a nasty habit of giving a backhanded compliment. Short and scrawny,
he chewed on betel leaves like a goat. “Where’s the goalie? Oh, there he is! We could have won if you had practiced.
Now sit.”
Others giggled. Bitter feelings preoccupied my mind even at home. “Oops, I am never gonna play football
again,” I said to myself.
“What happened?” asked Dad. “You look vexed.”
“It’s the football match I played yesterday,” I said, looking up from the bed. “My friends blame me for losing.”
“But why must they?”
“I couldn’t play well. It was my fault.”
“Don’t worry,” he said. “Everyone has a day. You’ll play better next time.”
“No next time for me now. I quit football.”
“What?”
“No football for me anymore,” I said, rolling up the blanket. “I quit, Dad.”
“You quit because you couldn’t play well yesterday? Tell you what, it happens sometimes. Don’t quit, son.”
“I should go for a stroll,” I said. “I have trouble sleeping.”
“Don’t hang out too long.”
I closed the door behind. “Don’t worry, Dad.”
On my way back home, at the dusk fall, I saw a boy standing in front of a shop. He looked right, left, and all
directions as if he waited for someone. The awful football incident haunted me, but the worried face of the boy
outside concerned me more.
“Hope someone came to pick him up,” I said to myself. “What if nobody came for him? Um, that’s not my
concern. Leave it.” But his weather-beaten face flashed before my eyes. So, I crept out of bed to check it out.
He had curled up on the bench.
“Hey, young man?” I said.
He did not move.
I nudged his shoulder. “You hear me?”
He looked up.
“Where are you from?” I asked.
He didn’t answer.
“Want to go with me?”
He nodded.
“Come, follow me.”
He got up and shuffled after me.
Inside, I warmed the leftover rice and served him. “Here, you are. Please take.”
He shoveled all. Licking the fingers, he gave me a wide grin.
“Want to sleep?”
He nodded.
I spread a mattress Dad had sutured with his own hands. “Sleep here.”
When I woke at dawn, my guest was gone. “Oh, no! Where did he go?” I jumped out of the bed and scurried
out. At the crack of dawn, only dogs moved. He was nowhere. “I didn’t even ask his name, how funny?”
A week later, the football fans talked about the selected football players. It was like players were signing a
contract for a club. But I shunned away from the groups talking about it.
“Are you selected, Uncle?” asked Cheytu, a bulbous guy who played on defense.
“I have no idea,” I said. “I didn’t check.”
“Why not, buddy?” He held my hand. “Come, let’s check it out.”
“No buddy, I am not interested.”
“Come on, man.”
The boys pushed and shoved as they tried to get close to the noticeboard. I hesitated, but Cheytu jostled our way
to the noticeboard.
“How come Uncle got selected?” said Norbu.

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