“yeah, just missing being with u”
“aww, hw swt. Is there warm in there or my baby needs a hug
or…”
“what the hell are you doing?”, Shyam asked me while I was
just replying to his conversations with his ‘babu’ means Koushiki.
“I was just chatting with your mom dude”, I replied.
“my mom doesn’t use whatsapp moron”, Shyam said.
“then why is she calling you ‘my baby’ moron?”, I asked.
“you can’t understand. It’s love and its loveliness. You go
to the practice, I am done for today”, he replied and went to the bathroom to
take a shower.
I came back to the field. I’m the goalkeeper of a small club
team. It was my time for practice. A question struck into my mind after a ball
struck into my face, “why I don’t feel the loveliness of love?”
It was not a good time to find out the answers as my coach
shouted at me as if I was in the middle of his canon range. I went back to
practice. Raghu hits a ball and I fisted that. Then Rahim hits a ball that went
out of the ground. After that Shantanu slams a ball to the top corner of the
post that was quite unreachable for a keeper of my gesture. The next ball I
gripped.
After an hour or so we came back, had our showers and then we
waved byes and look forward for our moms’ menus. There was a walk of 7 minutes
to my house when the road is fully in date with me as if in the chambers of
secrets. None can hear what I say to Her and what She says to me. It was a
narrow lane. That night too I was alone in date with my beloved narrow lane
when most unfortunately someone intrude into our romance. I was less angry than
amazed. I don’t know what happened to me. It was like feeling most
uncomfortable with your well-known lover after seeing someone else’s beauty for
a while.
I couldn’t control myself. I touched her. I did what I feel.
The most surprising part was she never disagreed. May be she was in such state
as mine. I danced with her just as I juggle with football. I gripped her just
as I grip a football. I celebrated the night just as I celebrate after winning.
It was a night to remember. Anyways, as always, I did do the dumbest part. I
forgot to get her number. So, no whatsapp, no ‘my baby’ propagandas.
The next day I didn’t go to the ground. I waited in the
narrow lane, the ex-lover of mine. As for the breakup with Her or for the
daytime, the lane was full of public. Facts are not being fictional this time
round i.e. if you let go your love, others will definitely catch her up. So as
for the lane. I abandoned her for my new love and now it is full of crowd and
for that reason my wish to meet with my last night’s stranger couldn’t be done.
It was a rough day. I came back home empty hearted.
The next day was in the same schedule. And then again the
heart went for the same schedule too. I was hopeless. I, then decided to went
back to the ground, and to concentrate on my football career. So, after a
week’s strong disposal I looked up and told myself not to bother but be a
sober.
The ground felt like heaven that time. I again gripped,
fisted, juggled. Every time I missed being with the stranger of that night.
Every time I called upon the very particular moments of that night. The
practice was like reading literature this time. I was too much obsessed with
the stranger. Shyam shoots a ball right in the center of the post and as I was
not at all concentrating in the practice, I was hit. Then all went black.
When I opened my eyes, I was in a nursing home cabin. Shyam
was right beside me and my mother was sitting next to me. And most of a sudden
I found her lying on my chest, the stranger of that night, the love of my life.
I hugged her and realized how stupid I was for not concentrating in the
practice today. She was with me all the time. It was her. It was the football!
The thing that stricken with me that night was a football
which was there on the ground for some reasons. I juggled that, gripped that
and celebrated. I didn’t know what happened to me. I never told anybody about
this before. I searched the internet if this is some disease or not in which
you see a football like a girl and even fall in love with her or it. I know
nothing. Years later, I realized one thing. It was not a disease. It was an
obsession. An obsession to feel the love. I never loved anything but football.
I never stopped playing football till now. So, I agreed to stay this way.
Even now, sometimes, when the lane is lonely, I date with the
stranger. I juggle, I grip, I celebrate. Even now I use to do the mistake of
not taking her number. We don’t do such chatting:
“you ok darling?”
“yeah, just missing being with u”
“aww, hw swt. Is there warm in there or my baby needs a hug
or…”
All we do is just loving each other and juggle, grip and
celebrate.
