Footfall
Originally published July 2006
For the past couple of weeks, I have been enjoying my evenings, with a nice and rivetting game of football. The “pitch” is not more than 40–45 yards long and 12–15 yards wide. This is bordered on both sides by a concrete plinth about 4–5 inches high, and a couple of feet wide. On the left side, when facing the lake — which is about 15 yards at an oblique angle to one side of the playing area — are three long-leaf connifers; or Ashokaa trees in local parlance. Except for one part around center-field, near the trees, which is rocky, most of the field is flat plain earth. There are bits of glass on the field, from the damage caused by one of the sports; cricket or football, to the windows of the rooms or the bathrooms that border the field. One problem — more acute with cricket, than with football — is that the ball sometimes gets stuck in the corridors of the upper floors and then someone — sometimes a spectator; more often someone rudely woken up; sometimes one of the “players” — has to fetch it.
There are also minor modifications in the rules that we employ. We do not “throw in” when the ball goes out of bounds; we take a kick — a la hockey — from the sideline. No corners — if the ball goes out of bounds at the baseline, goal kick. And yes, if there are 3 or less players on each side — we usually do not play with less than that; we just practise our skills on the goal — then the last man on the defence is the goal keeper — meaning he can use his hands to deal with the ball. For want of referees, we do not have the off-side rule, and usually do not have fouls, except blatant hand-balls. We mostly play in good spirit and do not mind sacrificing a little success for the safety of another player. Usually people put on whatever shoes they can get; and if they can’t, we play barefeet.
I have played football on the beach, on the main field at the gymkhana grounds and a million other places. There is a feeling of triumph when you score. There is feeling of satisfaction when you see light in another man’s eyes. There is feeling of frustration when you let the other man past. There is a feeling of desperation when you want to equalize. There is no symmetry in the game. There is no justice. There are no hassles. Just a ball. And boys.
For the last five years, I have always wanted to play some more. I have gathered people to come down and play. Football, cricket, volleyball. I’ve always wanted to live like I used to when I grew up. Go out in the evening and get all your friends together and play. Anything. I’m usually among the first to arrive and the last to leave. And I always, urge the people to play some more. Paresh had said in my school days that I had the stamina of an Ox — when I played some 6 matches of some 20 overs each, with different bunches of people, on a summer day, and I was a pretty quick pace bowler even in the last one. I don’t tire easily. I think it is in the head. For the last five years, I have wanted people in my hostel to come out of their rooms and have fun doing things together. Out there. Everybody.
No hell below us, Above us only sky; Imagine all the people, Living for today
— John Lennon
I don’t know why I landed up in the institute. I don’t think it was to learn materials science. I don’t think it was to drink, eat, travel. I don’t think it was to meet people. I don’t think it was to play football.
But I did.