"Steady boy...Focus..and keep your eyes on the ball..steady now"
I was not steady and definitely not focused. I felt I would faint and I was nervous like hell. But Patil sir's deep baritone kept reverberating in my ears. It had a soothing effect, but not enough for that day. I could hear some boys chuckling in distance watching the spectacle. I tried to shut them out.
I missed the shot and I dived the wrong way. The boys chuckled louder.
Patil sir blew his whistle. "Lets go again. Sangharsh you are next". He was whispering to me standing behind the goal post. Sangharsh had the biggest hairy legs in the whole division and I could see him smiling. It was not kind. Years later he would be one of my best friends. But he was not one now.
"Bend your knees and breath easy..Watch his foot from ankle downwards.."
I watched his right foot, but he wrong footed me. He hit a scorcher from his left and I could not even spot the ball. Now I knew the reason for his smile. I did see the ball when it was about a foot away from my right cheek and it was too late. My head spun from the impact and I stumbled into the goal and watched in agonising slow motion as the ball slowly trickled past into the post. Someone shouted "Double goal" and I could hear shrieks of laughter. Sangharsh was doubled over and laughing his arse off.
Blood spurted from my nose and I had an attack there and then. Anand, my childhood chum managed to get my inhaler out in time and a few minutes later I could at least breath.
It was humiliating. It was painful. It was me. Later on I would watch in silence as Nikhil (the class pimp) would describe in every detail the trials to the girls in class while they giggled at my expense, conveniently forgetting to mention that he too could not make it into the team. I would looooong for the school to get over.
It was routine. I had Bronchitis when I was a kid. I could not run 10 yards without being out of breath. As a boy I longed for sports. I was ok with acads and other extracurriculars and I was competitive but I was really useless when it came to stamina and endurance. I had special concessions on PT sessions and long assembly days. I could sit and watch...
As a kid I would run out of breath in fisticuffs and boys used to harass me growing up. But that was before I gave Mohan a scar which ran across his face in 5th standard. I don't remember it as everything happened in a rush of blood, a tangle of hands, hair and legs and plenty of pent up frustration, but Anand later told me I broke a bench in the process.
Nobody bullied me ever since. I could not sleep for days remembering Mohan's bloody face after the 'deed' had been done but I was grateful to be left alone. The boys picked on somebody else after that. Nowadays Mohan has reputation of being a bully around J'nagar and I conveniently avoid bumping into him lest he remembers any of our childhood stories...
Generally bronchitis worsens during evening and night time and I remember staying up whole nights wanting like hell, but unable to sleep. I would go under blankets, assure my father that I will be ok, gave it 15 minutes and then silently creep out, switch on the night lamp and find something to read. My father else would stay up with me giving me company till I could sleep and I didn't want him to do that.
People around me still wonder why I go to sleep early. Maybe they should experience the joys of staying up whole night and fighting for breath every fighting minute of your life.
I am sure they will sleep well too and enjoy it while they do so.
Ever noticed your breathing? Breath deeply... fill your lungs. Do it please. Even now while I type I can feel the silent satisfaction of my lungs filling with air without any effort. For me its divine. Bronchitis is awful and it will teach you a lot about life. You cant breath in, you cant let air out. You get tired by the mere effort required to push air into your clogged lungs. Once you manage to get air in you need to push it out. More than the physical effort it is the mental agony that you cant stand. And then start again. Sometimes you just want to let go and not breath any more and pray to god for the trauma to be over. But you just can't stop breathing can you?
Your chest pains from the effort. Your back aches from the contractions and your body struggles from the lack of sleep. You get depressed thinking about the night ahead. I always used to tell myself 'One more'. It was simple way of not worrying about the night ahead. "Breath in..Breath out..Focus..One more". Focus on the next breath and the dark night would pass.
You watch the clock, you wait for the morning to come soon. You watch the minutes, you watch the seconds tick by. You know that it gets over by morning. Deliverance by the Sun as I used to think about it then. You can finally sleep.
And that's why I love mornings...
Bronchitis taught me a lot. It taught me to be patient, how to react when under cosh. It made me a hard nut. I can deal with any bully in workplace or elsewhere. Because I have had to deal with the mother of them all. Most of it all it all it gave me the gift of reading. I read and read and then read some more. I grew smarter...
I always used to watch sports though. I would sit in our school stadium and see the practice for hours. I loved the noise, shrieks, sledges, swearing and laughter. Then I would go home accompanying Anand who was in the team.
This was before Patil sir came to our school. He used to see me and knew my concessions at school. One day he ambled over to where I used to sit and asked me if I would like to join them. They were trialing for a goalkeeper. I was so taken aback that I could not even speak.
Patil sir was different from all the other sports teachers. He was mild and genteel. He would laugh and chat a lot with the kids and not hard nosed as most sports teachers are. But he knew where to draw a line. One hard stare and the worst of the bullies in our school would fall in line. He always carried a cane. But in 5 years of my schooling after he joined, I never saw him use it. You could find him walking without a care and usually whistling. And boy he was a whistling genius or what! He could whistle most of the songs and after practice the boys would harangue him for a demo. He would let them get desperate and then acquiesce.
I failed the trials. But still I used to accompany Anand for practice. Boys made fun of me and I sometimes smiled sheepishly and sometimes cracked self-deprecating jokes. Soon they ignored me.
But two days later Patil sir called me into his room for a chat. I don't remember most of my school mates and other details but I do remember every word he spoke that day...
It led to one of those moments I keep having now and then.
To be continued..
I was not steady and definitely not focused. I felt I would faint and I was nervous like hell. But Patil sir's deep baritone kept reverberating in my ears. It had a soothing effect, but not enough for that day. I could hear some boys chuckling in distance watching the spectacle. I tried to shut them out.
I missed the shot and I dived the wrong way. The boys chuckled louder.
Patil sir blew his whistle. "Lets go again. Sangharsh you are next". He was whispering to me standing behind the goal post. Sangharsh had the biggest hairy legs in the whole division and I could see him smiling. It was not kind. Years later he would be one of my best friends. But he was not one now.
"Bend your knees and breath easy..Watch his foot from ankle downwards.."
I watched his right foot, but he wrong footed me. He hit a scorcher from his left and I could not even spot the ball. Now I knew the reason for his smile. I did see the ball when it was about a foot away from my right cheek and it was too late. My head spun from the impact and I stumbled into the goal and watched in agonising slow motion as the ball slowly trickled past into the post. Someone shouted "Double goal" and I could hear shrieks of laughter. Sangharsh was doubled over and laughing his arse off.
Blood spurted from my nose and I had an attack there and then. Anand, my childhood chum managed to get my inhaler out in time and a few minutes later I could at least breath.
It was humiliating. It was painful. It was me. Later on I would watch in silence as Nikhil (the class pimp) would describe in every detail the trials to the girls in class while they giggled at my expense, conveniently forgetting to mention that he too could not make it into the team. I would looooong for the school to get over.
It was routine. I had Bronchitis when I was a kid. I could not run 10 yards without being out of breath. As a boy I longed for sports. I was ok with acads and other extracurriculars and I was competitive but I was really useless when it came to stamina and endurance. I had special concessions on PT sessions and long assembly days. I could sit and watch...
As a kid I would run out of breath in fisticuffs and boys used to harass me growing up. But that was before I gave Mohan a scar which ran across his face in 5th standard. I don't remember it as everything happened in a rush of blood, a tangle of hands, hair and legs and plenty of pent up frustration, but Anand later told me I broke a bench in the process.
Nobody bullied me ever since. I could not sleep for days remembering Mohan's bloody face after the 'deed' had been done but I was grateful to be left alone. The boys picked on somebody else after that. Nowadays Mohan has reputation of being a bully around J'nagar and I conveniently avoid bumping into him lest he remembers any of our childhood stories...
Generally bronchitis worsens during evening and night time and I remember staying up whole nights wanting like hell, but unable to sleep. I would go under blankets, assure my father that I will be ok, gave it 15 minutes and then silently creep out, switch on the night lamp and find something to read. My father else would stay up with me giving me company till I could sleep and I didn't want him to do that.
People around me still wonder why I go to sleep early. Maybe they should experience the joys of staying up whole night and fighting for breath every fighting minute of your life.
I am sure they will sleep well too and enjoy it while they do so.
Ever noticed your breathing? Breath deeply... fill your lungs. Do it please. Even now while I type I can feel the silent satisfaction of my lungs filling with air without any effort. For me its divine. Bronchitis is awful and it will teach you a lot about life. You cant breath in, you cant let air out. You get tired by the mere effort required to push air into your clogged lungs. Once you manage to get air in you need to push it out. More than the physical effort it is the mental agony that you cant stand. And then start again. Sometimes you just want to let go and not breath any more and pray to god for the trauma to be over. But you just can't stop breathing can you?
Your chest pains from the effort. Your back aches from the contractions and your body struggles from the lack of sleep. You get depressed thinking about the night ahead. I always used to tell myself 'One more'. It was simple way of not worrying about the night ahead. "Breath in..Breath out..Focus..One more". Focus on the next breath and the dark night would pass.
You watch the clock, you wait for the morning to come soon. You watch the minutes, you watch the seconds tick by. You know that it gets over by morning. Deliverance by the Sun as I used to think about it then. You can finally sleep.
And that's why I love mornings...
Bronchitis taught me a lot. It taught me to be patient, how to react when under cosh. It made me a hard nut. I can deal with any bully in workplace or elsewhere. Because I have had to deal with the mother of them all. Most of it all it all it gave me the gift of reading. I read and read and then read some more. I grew smarter...
I always used to watch sports though. I would sit in our school stadium and see the practice for hours. I loved the noise, shrieks, sledges, swearing and laughter. Then I would go home accompanying Anand who was in the team.
This was before Patil sir came to our school. He used to see me and knew my concessions at school. One day he ambled over to where I used to sit and asked me if I would like to join them. They were trialing for a goalkeeper. I was so taken aback that I could not even speak.
Patil sir was different from all the other sports teachers. He was mild and genteel. He would laugh and chat a lot with the kids and not hard nosed as most sports teachers are. But he knew where to draw a line. One hard stare and the worst of the bullies in our school would fall in line. He always carried a cane. But in 5 years of my schooling after he joined, I never saw him use it. You could find him walking without a care and usually whistling. And boy he was a whistling genius or what! He could whistle most of the songs and after practice the boys would harangue him for a demo. He would let them get desperate and then acquiesce.
I failed the trials. But still I used to accompany Anand for practice. Boys made fun of me and I sometimes smiled sheepishly and sometimes cracked self-deprecating jokes. Soon they ignored me.
But two days later Patil sir called me into his room for a chat. I don't remember most of my school mates and other details but I do remember every word he spoke that day...
It led to one of those moments I keep having now and then.
To be continued..
