It was the second full moon night of September in 2003, the date I am unsure of, but yet it can never be forgotten. I got a call quite late at night from my coach, Charlie Sir. He taught me everything I know on the field. Off the field our physical education teacher used to be in a continuous battle with the English language. I remember that night he was waiting at the reception. Both of us decided to go for a walk. He was threatening me in an amusing demeanour.
Charlie Sir: Kalsh I think I will have to talk to your parents, especially your mother and father.
Kalsh: But sir, I thought you personally congratulated them last month when they came for my felicitation ceremony.
Charlie Sir: This is not about praises you fool. Do you have any idea how many practice sessions you attended last month?
Kalsh: No sir!
Charlie Sir: Do you even recall that there is something called practice at quarter past five and a half? Let me tell you. (He held me by my shoulders) I don’t care if you’re the first boy in the last fifteen years to score twenty four goals in one season; or your brother was my favourite student; or the fact that you saved me from the poisonous air force in the chemistry lab; or the fact that my son is your best friend. I won’t count your blessings when I throw you out of the team.
Kalsh: But Sir… (He didn’t even care for me to complete.)
Charlie Sir: And to think that you are willing to abandon all this in order to become the first boy in the history of this school to dance in a ballet is nauseating.
Kalsh: Dance is not that bad actually.
Charlie Sir: All I am concerned about is that you attend every practice like all your teammates. Don’t expect special treatment just because you are the captain.
Kalsh: It’s just that I was really beginning to enjoy the company.
Charlie Sir: Eh… as I suspected. It’s always about girls. Let me tell you, hundreds before you have destroyed their lives for these girls. Do you want to add another name to that long list of losers?
Kalsh: No sir.
Charlie Sir: First and foremost your loyalty lies with the team, then with me, then with the school and still if any bit of self importance is left you can think about yourself. Mark my words, “A looser who runs after skimpily clad girls in tights is not my son. He is not on my team.”
And your point is...