The Football Match

“Where are you coming from?” My dad asked, softly – dangerously soft. Did I detect something unusual in that soft tone? My mother was looking at me directly. “Shashi Kumar’s house” I replied very casually as I opened the cupboard to keep my accountancy books in. Normally I just fling them about, but today there was something uneasy in the air………….

Shashi Kumar was my teacher who coached me in financial accountancy, as I was very weak in the subject. Sabha and I went every other day in the mornings for about an hour to learn accountancy from him. He was an okay guy, just married, and did his job very seriously.

My father did not seem very satisfied with my answer. “Where did you go?” he repeated, as though he did not hear me. I knew something was amiss. But could not make out what it was. I fiddled with some more books in the cupboard as though searching for something. How could they possibly know? There was no question of them knowing. Keep cool baby, relax…

That sultry Sunday morning, I had to go to watch my friends’ playing a football match. My father, being very strict and conservative, would never allow me to go even if I begged and pleaded – I knew that. Hence I lied that Shashi had called us this morning for an extra class as our exams were nearing.

“Where did you go?” Very close now. Mother is still looking on waiting for an answer. “ Arrey! I told you. Shashi’s house for tuitions,” I snapped guiltily. If I really had gone there I would snap at this inquisition, wouldn’t I? “Tttsh” stung a slap on my cheek throwing me off my balance. I had never been slapped so hard ever in my life.

“Where did you go?”
Silence.
“Where did you go?, I want the truth” thundered my father now.
Silence again. I was sure my cheek had swollen at least three times its size and felt like a soft warm pillow.
I knew the game was up. But how? My plan was foolproof.

It so happened that my father was going to Jabalpur and in the last minute found out that he did not have a suitable bag. He wanted me to get the bag from Jenny’s house (my best friend) that was on the way to Shashi’s house. So he called up Shashi wanting to speak to me to ask me to bring the bag on my way back. And that was it.

“I.. I went to see a football match” I stammered
“What? A football match? Where”
“ Kings Sports Complex”
“With whom?” With my friends, damn you!
“ Jenny and Sabha”
“ Do their parents know?” Of course they do! Jenny’s parents understand her needs better than you!
“Yes”
“Does Sabha’s parents know” They are like you – Hyper cases – How would they?
“No”
“Why did you lie?” Would you have allowed me to go? That’s why. Saves me the stress and agony, not to mention the ridicule from my friends.
“Because you would not allow me to go”
“ I did not know that you liked football –Why this sudden interest?” Because my hero was the goalkeeper! And I had to seem him swallow all those 8 goals and listen to the swearing of the boys then.
“Some of our group boys were playing.”
“Ah, that is why” – Sarcasm again – Oh you sicken me with your one-track mind! Damn you!!
“Oh! Come on! Let her go” my mother intervened.
“It is all because of you. You let the kids have a ball of a time and if one of them elopes with a low-caste boy or girl I will never forgive you,” My father bellowed at her.

It was very easy for Indian men to blame their house maker, cleaning woman, cook and bed partner wife for anything and every thing that does not go their way. I told you so! I knew this would happen. You were too lenient with the kids. There you go! Over spending again! And so forth…

Somehow my mother convinced him that he had a train to catch and was getting late. My father left for Jabalpur for a week (saving grace!) and I went to bed wiser.

For many days after that, my father would look very suspiciously at me when I said that I had an extra class or tuition to go to. Served me right, in a way.