HIS FOOTBALLER HEROES

By now, Sidhant has developed new interest. He showed me a few postage-stamp sized pictures, kept in great care in his book-shelf. He looked at me with concern and surprise when I failed to recognise those faces. They were his heroes. But he could not reconcile to a situation when his omniscient grandfather could not even recognise one of the faces. They were Neymar, Ronaldo and Messi. The more I would make efforts to keep him away from those names and their exploits so that I could continue teaching him a chapter from his Science Book and explain to him the difference between “hibernation” and “aestivation”, the more insistent he would be in talking about these three illustrious footballers. He soon ceased to be my regular student for an hour in the evening and preferred, instead, to be a listener while I would read out, at his request, some pages of his favourite story book, “Gateaway” of Jeff Kinney.

He loved to get up very early on a day there is no school and is fond of sleep on other days till he is coaxed and forced by parents to leave the bed barely thirty minutes before the school bus arrived. The day we were to leave Bangalore was a Sunday. I found him active and jovial at quarter to six in the morning. He came to me and, with a smile, handed me a tiny envelop with a request that I should open it only on reaching Bhubaneswar. It was his gift to me, he said, in his sweet voice.

He accompanied us to the airport. We got into the battery-car and he was making efforts to remain calm while I could see his emotions swelling within. At his age, his elder brother, now 16, was even more sentimental. Now grown up, he got ready for his coaching class and after breakfast he sought our blessings, touched our feet and walked with a smile to catch an Uber taxi to take him to the coaching centre. Sidhant was now flanked by his parents while the battery-car moved on. 

After we settled down in the departure lounge Sidhant called. They were in a restaurant on the way. He asked me if I had opened the envelop. I hadn’t because that would have been a breach of promise.    I told him. He was happy. I asked him if the stamp-sized picture he had pasted on the envelop was of Ronaldo. He laughed loud and said it was Neymar. His next question was surely to test my intelligence. Which country does Neymar play for? He asked. “Argentina”, I replied. He laughed again and said Messi is from Argentina and Neymar, from Brazil. I assured him I would now remember. 

He then spoke about the gift. The envelop contained one hundred twenty rupees which he has gifted to both of us. That was all he had of his “pocket money”.
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