Sporty Kid
I am a PT teacher. Students love me. I let them be in my sessions. They feel like birds out of the cages; far from their Hitler-like teachers who are adamant to convert free-thinking humans to money-making asses by smothering them in the gas-chambers, popularly known as classes.
When I came to this school, there was no culture of sports. The Principal told me that he wanted to ‘encourage’ it among the students. A committee was set up to find a solution to the problem. It came out with a novel idea which they shared with us in a meeting. The presenter told that Annual Sports Day was the best solution to start the sports-culture.
“When do we act? We act only when there is a goal in-front of us”, the presenter spoke with enthusiasm as if he was the Chief Guest for the Independence Day parade. “So after immense efforts that we put in, researching about the psychology of human beings, and children in particular, we have come out with a solution that will motivate the students towards sports like never before!” His eyes showed expression which Columbus would have had immediately after discovering America. “And the solution is – ANNUAL SPORTS DAY!” he declared.
“America just got re-discovered”, I thought bitterly.
I looked towards the Principal. Seeing her smile, I understood what “sheepish grin” meant. I had suggested in my interview with her to start Annual Sports Day. Every school had it. She felt that the school was a small one, students were not ready for it and that it was unaffoardable. I found the last reason bit too overpowering than the other two.
“Guess the committee members brought sponsorship as well,” I wondered.
-*-*-*-
The registration for the Annual Sports Day started three days later.
There was minimal communication from the authorities. The teachers were against the Sports Day. The children were supposed to stay after the school hours for practice. This concerned them – for the first time.
“How will they manage both the things? They will always look at the time when the school ends. Already it’s so difficult to make them study. Plus, if they play after the school hours, when will they complete their assignments? Won’t they get tired? Their parents will never accept this. What if some student gets hurt? Don’t blame us if the result goes down. Anyways, what is the use of Sports Day? Has it ever given anyone a job?”
Sports days brought sportsman-spirit of the teachers also. They too started playing games. Despite this, the students came to the registration desk – in huge numbers.
“Never knew so many children were interested in sports”, said the Principal with a smile. I knew that smile – it always reminded me of a sheep.
-*-*-*-
“Sir, can I also run?”
I looked at the boy. I didn’t know what to tell him. My mouth went dry. The boy looked determined. He looked straight into my eyes. I tried to evade his big, bright eyes – the way a child would after getting caught stealing, red-handed. Have you tasted a medicine called ‘ethical dilemma’? I did for the first time. There was nothing wrong in the boy’s question, except the fact that he was holding crutches which he used while walking. I noticed his otherwise healthy body and one skinny limp leg.
“What is your name?” I asked, thinking such questions will dawn to me the wisdom to answer his simple question satisfactorily.
“Harsh.”
“Would your father permit?”
“Why not?” he asked – looking towards me puzzled as if I asked the most stupid question he had ever heard.
“I want to meet your father and seek his permission before I allow you to participate”, I said, procrastinating the reply to further time.
“OK Sir. Will call him tomorrow”, he left – smiling, and me wondering. I could see in that boy, a huge heart – a heart that any sportsman would be proud to have. But I also knew that no one will give the permission for him to participate - there is no place for dreams and big heart in the rational world of ours. I could not even imagine how his father would take it. He was going to break many hearts – his parents’ and his own – and mine.
-*-*-*-
“Hello Sir. Harsh told me you wanted to see me”, Harsh’s father came to meet me the very next afternoon.
“Hello Mr. Sharma. Yes, I wanted to meet you. Has he told you the purpose of our meeting?” I tried every way possible not to mention the obvious.
“Yes Sir, he did. He wants to participate in the Sports Day. Before the participation, I guess you wanted to meet me.”
I didn’t know if he was deliberately trying to make it difficult for me, or was he actually naïve. I decided to make my life easier by talking objectively – so I thought.
“Mr. Sharma, I appreciate that he wants to run. But do you think he can? He is a kid, but you are not. You know everything. You can see that. I understand that it would be difficult for you to tell him, but I think you should make it clear to him that…. that he can’t run.” I spoke so fast that I would have beaten Jim Carrey today. Still I didn’t feel one bit proud. Instead I felt as if I just returned from a marathon: every muscle of my body was strained, my shirt was wet, my heart-beat was going to break the world-record and I felt drained. I wanted to run away.
Mr. Sharma’s expression went soft. He looked down. He suddenly looked aged. But then the smile returned – it was pleading and understanding – pleading to let his son participate; understanding that I couldn’t allow that.
“He has polio in his left leg; and I know that he can’t run. But when he saw the poster of Annual Sports Day, he got very excited. He told me that now he can participate since it won’t make anyone else lose because of him. He loves Cricket, but because he can’t run, other kids don’t take him in their teams. He feels very bad about it. He used to come and weep, and I could do nothing. After seeing your poster, he told me that he will participate. I wanted to tell him that he would not be able to, that no one would permit that, but one look into his eyes - and I couldn’t.”
I felt the heat rising around me – even the thermometer indicated the same.
“I don’t know what the race means to everyone here”, he continued, “but for him it’s his life – the life he wants to lead, where he’ll be accepted by everyone, where he will play and no one will tell him not to – a life full of self-confidence. Sir, he is not participating to win the race. He is intelligent and knows that he is incapable of that. He wants to run for a cause – HIS cause.”
Charlie Chaplin once said, “I love walking in the rain, 'cause then no-one knows I'm crying.” I loved that summer Sun: sweating profusely, no one knew that my face was not wet with sweat only.
“Mr. Sharma, trust me I know all that you told. I saw that all in his eyes when he came to ask me about participating. But you know the authorities. They would not let him do that. I can’t commit that your son will participate in the race, but I promise you that I will keep his side in front of the Principal.”
I left without saying another word. Even the summer sun couldn’t have hidden my feelings then.
-*-*-*-
I went to the Principal – utterly hopeless.
“Yes Sir, tell me – you wanted to see me?” she asked. Don’t know if I was hallucinating or she was actually looking pleasant today.
“Ma’am, I am here to talk about one boy who wants to participate in the Sports Day.”
“What about him? I think you are doing a good job managing the Sports Day. Still, tell me.”
Encouraged by the compliment, I started:
“Ma’am the boy’s name is Harsh Sharma. He wants to participate in 800 meter race.”
“Harsh Sharma? Isn’t he the boy with crutches?” she asked suspiciously.
“Yes, ma’am, it’s the same boy”, I looked more sheepish that day than her.
“Have you gone crazy? He finds it difficult to walk, and you want him to run there?” all the pleasantness vanished away from her face the way dew vanishes in the presence of sun-light.
“Ma’am, please at least listen to me. He just wants to…”
“I don’t want to listen to any of you non-sense arguments. If he gets hurt or something, do you know what will happen to the school’s reputation? Already I am under so much of stress - there is resistance from all the teachers regarding the Sports Day. I don’t want any more nuisances because of this Sports thing. And what will everyone else say – what exactly are we trying to show by letting a crippled boy run?”
“Ma’am, please at least let me finish…”
“I told you I am not going to listen to any of this….”
I couldn’t contain myself! I yelled at the top of my lung’s capacity:
“WILL YOU LISTEN? It’s only an event for you all. Do you even know what this race means to him? It will do a world of good to that boy. And if you don’t permit him, he will be paralyzed for life. His self-confidence will be shattered. I am not going to let that happen.” I told her. There was a strange satisfaction taking over me; I knew how dangerous that was. I didn’t resist it.
The Principal was taken aback by such a reaction. She took a softer stance.
“Please keep your voice low. See I understand your feelings, but I can’t help it. Already I am in such bad books of the management because of low profits. I don’t want anything untoward happening. Please try to understand. I will talk to him and tell him that it’s not possible. He won’t blame you because it will show that you tried your best, but due to unavoidable circumstances, we are unable to let him participate. I’ll even arrange for the kid to sit next to me. Is that fine?”
I always thought she looked like a sheep. Today her face changed. She resembled like an old wily vixen.
“It’s not about who blames whom. It’s about that kid – about his aspirations.”
“Don’t get too emotional, OK? Focus on other pending tasks. There are many, I am sure”, and she started looking into her files, indicating that the discussion was over.
Something struck me.
“I quit.” I told her, and left her office.
I knew I was the only one handling the entire Annual Sports Day. The invitation cards were sent. To make the event popular, the District Magistrate was invited as the Chief Guest. However, the interest of the management ended here. They had no intentions of doing anything more. I managed everything – the venue, the events, the participants, the dresses and everything else. I knew if I quit at this point, there would be no one who could handle all this. I also knew that if she agrees to what I was asking, there is good probability that I would be under fire once the event ended. Still I decided to play my only card – the Ace of Spade. It worked.
She ran behind me, caught hold of me and brought me back.
“You can’t leave like this.”
“Of course, I can. Don’t pay me my last salary. I am OK with that.”
“Please try to understand. I can’t do that.”
“Neither can I stay if it doesn’t happen.” My determined eyes told her that she had to take a stand – either to jeopardize the whole event, or accede to what I asked. I was praying that she agrees to my ‘request’. She did.
“OK. Let him run. But what if something happens to him? Who will take responsibility for that?” she asked. I could see her flared nostrils, and sharp eyes. There was no hint of amusement on her face. I had wounded a tigress, and now she demanded blood.
“I take all the responsibility.”
-*-*-*-
I told the news to Harsh and his father. Harsh told that he already started practicing with his friend Mohit.
“I knew I will run. I practice with Mohit. He is the only one who is ready to do it with me”, Harsh told. I had never felt the kind of confidence with which he spoke. There was a smile on his face – a smug smile. I could easily see the satisfaction in his eyes that come after doing a constructive job – what better than constructing your own life!
However, I was little surprised about Mohit. Mohit was among the fastest runners in his class. I wanted to see them training. It would have been a strange combination: one the fastest, other the slowest. They were good friends, like Romeo and Juliet – totally in love with each other. While Mohit was trying to cross the finishing line in minimum possible time, Harsh drew contentment just by crossing it. Mohit never assisted him to complete the 800 meters, instead kept encouraging Harsh, to try and complete on his own. They both were improving upon their previous performances. The D-day was nearing.
-*-*-*-
It was strange to see 7 boys bent, in the pose just before the race starts; and one standing with crutches in hands.
“On your marks… Get, Set…” the race began. All the boys ran for the red ribbon tied exactly 800 meters ahead. There was no one I was as interested in as I was in Harsh. There was a bizarre mixture of excitement and apprehension. He tried to run with his – legs and crutches. While practicing he was able to hop for 800 meters. That effort exhausted him, but he covered it nonetheless. Today was little different. It felt as if he was carrying huge weight on his shoulders: weight of his desires, his father’s expectations, longing to prove the world that he was one of them; and the biggest of them all – the fear of “What if I am unable to complete?”
He hopped his slowest 15 meters when most of the other participants covered more than half the track. And then he fell down. His crutch broke – guess it was due to overuse for the past three weeks. First he saw the crutch, then towards me, and then to the crutch again. There was no way that the crutch was going to help him – and there was no way he was going to complete the race without it. The more he put in effort to get up, the more the crutch gave in. He looked helpless, and frustrated – just like a lion – trapped in the net – where it desperately wants to get out, but the harder it tries, the more it gets entangled.
He put in all his efforts, and got up. He hopped for 8-10 times when he fell down again. I stared at him in despair. There was nothing I could do – nor could anyone else.
I looked upwards – towards the Supreme power – pleading – Please God! No idea what my posture was, but my soul was on its knees* – anticipating HIS presence in the form of a miracle – the genesis of which I had no clue or hope of. And it happened!
While Harsh was struggling, one boy ran across the field, unnoticed, reached his friend and helped him get up, kept Harsh’s left-hand on his shoulder, and started moving – together. They moved very slowly – even a tortoise would have defeated them – but they moved – and with them moved the whole stadium. Everyone realized what happened in sometime. There was cheering from every corner – even the Principal cheered. It was incredible. All the participants came to the middle of the ground, clapping. The two boys kept moving at their pace – unaware of the fact that the world was applauding them.
The boy who came to help Harsh was Mohit. He was on the first position till the 600th meter. However, something made him look back. What he saw was a boy struggling on the track. He kept running – and kept looking back. The dilemma was whether to complete the race, come first and receive the prize in front of the crowd, or help a friend in desperate need. By the 700th meter the decision was made.
Finally, the end line came – and something unusual happened – again. When only around five meters were left, Mohit left Harsh. Harsh looked at him, puzzled. No one talked, but the most important conversation of their lives happened. Mohit smiled, gestured Harsh to proceed – alone. Harsh looked towards him for a second more than others – and went ahead. Mohit came last.
I looked up – and went on my knees – to replicate my soul’s posture. The summer sun shone on my face, and I was thankful for that.
Comments