Page 49 - FATE & DESTINY

FATE & DESTINY

The next morning, I peeped through the glass. Willow trees along the streets had shed their leaves. Their
branches were burdened with thick snow. National flags fluttered above the door of each shop, even in its stark
winter state.
“How far is Phuentsholing from here, Baggio?” I said.
“I have no idea,” he said, “but it’s a long journey.”
“Eight hours by bus,” said Jigwang.
“Hell no,” I said. “It’s gonna be a terrible journey.”
After breakfast, we boarded the bus. From Lungtenzampa, the bus maneuvered many curves. One hour later, we
arrived at a checkpoint.
“Where are we, Baggio?” I said.
“Chhuzom,” said Jigwang.
“And where does that road take us to?” I said, pointing at the road at the other end of the bridge.
“That road?” said Jigwang, projecting his head out the window. “Paro.”
A sudden twinge of pain pierced my heart. “Paro?”
“Yeah, but I haven’t been there,” he said. “I heard it takes thirty minutes from here.”
“Only thirty minutes?” I explained, holding my chest. “Under the aegis of God, hope you’re fine.”
“Who?” Jigwang said.
“Nothing.”
Mr. Tashi returned and switched the ignition on. He put on the tape and music floated across the bus:

“Lha thosa gangi pchito kha,
Gang kelbai khawa chhag nu lo.
Nga Singye dhikhar khorsong ba,
Khaw thridung nyimai zhuda nu.
Aiii Singye nga…”

It reminded me of the happy memories of Yethrolma. An ache started deep in my stomach. And my heart sank
when I realized we couldn’t see anymore. So, I leaned back in the seat and closed my eyes.
In the evening, the bus stopped beside a school. I felt the warm air waft across my feet. The vegetation has
changed and the surrounding looked scruffy and dusty.
“It’s Phuentsholing Junior High School,” said Coach. “Follow me, boys. We are moving in.” He got the key from
the caretaker and opened the classroom behind the kitchen. “This is your room for the rest of the days.”
At 7:00 pm, there was a long bell. The caretaker shuffled along the porch, shouting, “Dinner! Dinner!”
Students from other schools were in a long queue at the kitchen door. The menu consisted mainly of potatoes,
my favorite. The next day, Coach took us to the football ground. It was sandy.
The tournament kicked off after three days. We won our first match but lost the second match to Motithang
High School by 2 to 0 goals. We still stood a chance. The next crucial match against Khaling High School seemed
tough. They had Maradona, a seeded player. After five minutes, I kicked the ball across the center. Our striker,
Ugyen Penjor, penetrated their defenders and tripped the ball above their goalie. The ball bounced into the net.
A few minutes later, Maradona delivered a sizzling shot. The ball scudded straight into my post, but I gripped
and brought it down to my chest. He knelt in resentment.
Soon, our defender, Dawa Tshering, tackled down Maradona. Maradona wriggled with an ankle injury. With their
best player on the bench, we dominated the game. At the end of the first half, Baggio scored another goal. The
second half was a tough battle with no score.
We would play the semi-final against Yangchenphug High School. From the other pool, Dagana High School
would play against Motithang High School.
Motithang High School and Yangchenphug High School were arch-rivals in soccer. Their matches always ended
in brawls, but this time, they sauntered into the town together.
Dagana High School won from the other pool. Our match ran into extra time and penalty shots. On tossing a
coin, Yangchenphug High School got the first shot. The umpire blew the whistle, and the ball slipped off my fingers
into the net. Our first shooter scored. The score was three each. Their fourth penalty shooter faltered to the penalty
area. He bit his lips and cast an indecisive glance at me. He kicked the ball to my right side. I dived and punched it.
The ball slapped my palm and deflected off the crossbar.
I found myself enveloped within my mates’ massive bear hugs. “Yippee!” The score stood at 4:3. Their last
shooter kicked. The ball entered the net from the far corner of the post. Score: 4:4. Our last shooter was Baggio.
When the umpire whistled, I turned away and crossed my fingers.
“Goal!” shouted my mates and tossed Baggio in the air.

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