Hello friends,
This writing of mine is an attempt to weave together my memories and dreams. There is a convenience for me in this. It helps me give the shape I want, lose myself, and then easily bring myself back. To give an example, it is like some people in Rishikesh who tie a rope to their legs and swim in a flooding river. I leave it to you to decide which part of this essay belongs to which form.
In the 90s, the cure for the fever of going to school was sports. Today, for someone swallowing two pills daily, back then they had physical education classes twice a week in school.
Coimbatore North, Government Higher Secondary School, English medium. In the school, there was one English section for each class. You could call this a bilingual medium instead. Out of her love for Tamil, the English teacher would translate the English lesson into Tamil itself. Today, as I type this essay on a computer using an English keyboard, I remember that teacher.
A co-ed school, where one section played Kho-Kho on the school ground, and another section's primary sport was cricket. Once the bell rang, the line to the ground would start. Reluctant students with hesitations in sports used to stand somewhat at the back. It was a speed of reaching the ground, a kilometer away, within the time of a cooker whistle.
The ground was fully enclosed by walls. A single gate. At the corner of the almost square-shaped ground was a tamarind tree. Mother used to say, "When it comes to studying, he is like a tamarind" ... can anyone deny that? Sometimes they would also grind that tamarind, make it into a ball, dry it, process it, and use it.
Physical education class was cricket time. The bat and ball were a collective responsibility. The PE teacher would usually open the gate, give room for student freedom, and leave outside on his bike. Some days he would sit in his small room set up on the ground. Mostly, that was the place where complaints and punishments were staged. Generally, he was an affectionate person; but the punishment would be intense. He would go around on his bike with his son. He would often comb his hair with a comb. He commanded relatively high respect among the women teachers.
If the ball was lost in cricket, the only alternative was football. Even if the ball didn't lose its shape, its leather would be somewhat weak. We would give life to the deflated ball using a pump. We often had to give it life like emergency first aid. Since everyone showed interest in kicking the ball, we would take turns taking up the goalkeeper responsibility. It was only a temporary spot for a goalkeeper. Many times, a goalkeeper wouldn't even be placed. Certainly, one or two people might have had an interest in the rules of football. But there was no place for them in this game; only the shade of the tree.
Jumping slightly from the 90s to the present 2026 Men's World Cup Football, Turkey's 6-foot tall goalkeeper Altay Bayındır spreads his arms like the wings of a bird, pretending to cover the entire goal post himself, why? This is during a penalty kick. Like a bird protecting its nest, he intimidates the opponent. For a minute, I entered the mindset of the shooter. Altay's posture made the goal target smaller.
Holding onto this moment of thrill, I jump again through waves of dreams and look at the school ground. Without any sound, everyone is waiting for shade under the tamarind tree. The reason? The football took its last breath and reached salvation. Waking up in that silence, the teacher came out, saw it, and without saying anything, asked a student to go to his room and bring his bag. From it, he took out a new football he had bought for his son, kept it under his armpit, blew the whistle, and asked everyone to assemble. Then, when he asked for a goalkeeper to stand up, there was absolute silence. Understanding this, he asked the student under the tree who always stood aside without playing - "Will you keep goal?"
Then, on a rotational basis, we were taught both taking penalty shoot-outs and defending them.
Altay's blessings - to that friend standing under the tamarind tree rising backward in time.