Aathmavil Oru Chitha (A Pyre in the Soul)

Indian squad was unstoppable. IM Vijayan and Baichung Bhutia were tipped to be the deadliest duo much before the tournament started. True to their reputation, in a clinically precise operation, IM vijayan gave the ball to Bhutia that never went waste. India are the world champions!

Victory lap was exciting.  As the Cup was lifted by Vijayan, flood gates of emotions were opened. Every Indian felt they  were on the top of the world. The victory lap by Vijayan and his team had started. It was a welcome relief from the stranglehold of the octopus called cricket. This cricket octopus is no Paul, the oracle. Cricket, for long has been a reason for the death of all forms of sports in our country including the national game called hokey. 

Suddenly the cup broke with a thud. I was jolted out of my nap in front of the TV. As the final match spilled over to the extra time and even after 26 minutes of extra time did not produce any result, I had just slipped into a snooze, and that ushered in a ‘dreamable’ dream. I wish it had happened that way!

Holland was my all time favourites. This time too, I rooted for them. Twenty years back also, they had an unbeatable team.  The team with Ruud Gullint, Marco van Bastian and Frank Raijkard  were capable of conquering the world. In our trust hostel of TKM college, few trusted their potential. Among  that few,  I was one. Most of the guys either supported Germany or Brazil.

As the 1990 world cup progressed, Holland team lost steam somewhere on the way and were sent home. I quietly slipped over to the Argentine bandwagon. Maradona, though in his colourless form was doing well. He brought the team to the finals too. Though, he could not win the trophy second time for his country, the match was exciting. Germany took away the cup with a lone goal.

We had a television in the trust hostel. There was no facility at home to watch the live telecast. Those days, televisions were just making their presence in India. In a village like ours, it was too early to have a TV. We missed the 1986 world cup. The only access to the happenings was through the radio. The government controlled radio provided live commentary of the matches only for semis and finals. We enjoyed the finals sitting in front of the Akashavani. Maradona won the cup in 1986.

I did not want to lose any of the live telecast in 1990. So, I decided not to go home from June 10 to July 10. It was celebration time in our hostel. Different guys supporting different teams and the taunts against each other  produced a lot of joy. It was one of the cherished  parts of our hostel  life. I still remember how I was taunted in the night Dutch team crashed out of the game.

Germany  took away the crown. Maradona, the God of Football was a disappointed man. So was I. The day has passed. Another football gala became history.

Next day was another day for all of us. It was Monday. So, it was college time. As usual we all went to our classes. Afternoon, we had Electric Machine lab. As I have been with the ABB machines in our lab, there appeared two of our childhood buddies in front of the lab. I was surprised to see them.

They explained to me that my father had developed severe pain in the hands  and the state is a little critical. I could see them struggling to hide the fact. Still I did not want to imagine the worst. We immediately rushed home by the car they brought from our village. They had to travel all the way from the village, since there was no other medium available there to convey  the message. To make a phone call, we had to depend on the post office. To get me online we had to depend on the phone in the hostel. There were no mobile phones or internet those times. The technology leapt like a giant in the recent time.  It reached out to the unimaginable horizons within a span of twenty years.

As our ambassador car rolled in to our village, I could sense the danger. When the car was stopped in from of my home, the picture was clear. I could not control myself. There laid dead my beloved father. He left us even before seeing me an engineer. He could not  see my elder one a doctor. In fact he could not see any one of his children stand on his/her feet by the time he bade adieu.

I am still wondering how the boat that was badly rocked on that day sailed though to safety. Perhaps the almighty executed his unflawed progam without fail. Everything happened as He willed. With a chill in the spine, I still remember that scene. The dead body that lay on a plantain leaf. The tunnel we have just entered. The future of our studies.

We could sail through all our difficulties, thanks to our resilient mom, our eldest sisters’ husband and of course babuchettan. By god’s grace we never faced any difficulty till we finished our studies.

Twenty years went by. Whenever a world cup final passes into history, the images of the 1990’s final day come to  my mind. The pyre that burnt on the following day of the WC final is still simmering in my soul. Good bye my dear papa. I am sure you are occupying a place very close to God. We are all happy here. I enjoyed this edition of the WC also to my heart’s content….