Goodbye

Dashainko poornima ko parsi palta. Feri aaja pani we were only eleven players on the ground. Nobody wanted to sit out until a partner showed up, same argument once again. I wanted Vaicha to sit out that afternoon. Why Vaicha? Well, who knows when was the last time he offered his position in favor of a fellow player. I don’t remember him ever volunteering to sit out. He was forced to sidelines at times but only when Bimal dai ordered him to do so. He didn’t care for anybody else, and Bimaldai was not there with us to ask Vaicha to sit out. Bimaldai, jaad lagayera tyai kisna madir pachhadi paya bhalirathyo hola. That’s what he used to do most of the time.

Anyway, Vaicha was one heck of “jiddi” dude. He had to play no matter what. Amazingly, even with such continuous record of playing, he was a horrible forward. I guess whenever he said “forward kasto machha jasto” he meant the forward players in the opposing team. He was more like a “rango” as a forward than a “machha”. I argued once again “mu** bhaicha, talai mu** sadhai khelnu parne---ek chhin basna—ahile kohi na kohi ta aaihalchha ni—ani khelnu”. Vaicha simply said, “jha* pani niskinna ma ta”. “Mar ta ma%$#@ alachhina Vaicha”, I said with frustration and came to sideline and sat there watching him and others play. I was waiting for Dipesh to show up any moment now. In fact, I had mentioned to all the dudes that Dipesh is back, and I saw him coming last night in bhutesowr. Ten, or may be fifteen minutes in the game, I saw Bimaldai coming to the ground.

****

We’ve been playing football at this faant for almost a year now. Not sure who owned this piece of land but nobody cared to plant anything in it. So, it was a perfect football ground for us. Just a few months back, we were at this very faant (open field) playing football and a dude showed up. He was a new dude. I had never seen him before and I don’t think none of us there on the ground knew him. Cuz nobody recognized his presence there. We just looked at him once and kept on playing. This new dude seemed, as most of us, in his mid teen age and also seemed friendly. Even though none of us greeted him, he was smiling at us. We didn’t care. I wonder why we were so cold toward him, but we were.

No one asked him if he wanted play with us. May be because we were evenly distributed and no one team could take him as an extra. He stood for a while by the side line then sat by our side of chappal rakhera banako goal post. Barmu was golki (goal keeper) and was guarding the post with vigor. Barmu, I swear I don’t know his real name but he was not a bahun dude for sure, was a good goal keeper but was a bit aggressive. Everyone used to call him Barmu, so I wonder if he would have responded if we call him with his real name. The new dude tried to strike a conversation with Barmu but Barmu didn’t give a damn. Game over and we left the ground. The dude followed us as if he is also one of us. He was not. None of us talked with him that day. Dhungedhara aaunu aghinai he turned right and went inside a house. We knew everyone there in that house so we wondered who the f*&^% is this new dude. Barmu asked, ‘ko ma&^%$ yo? Ma sanga gaf dina aaira bhanya---ma&^%$# lai paanipet ma brucelee cut diu ki jasto lagya thyo—tara feri bhaigo bhanera chhod.diye---uta bata Anile le ball lyaisakyo yo mu** posta aayera kich kich kich---“. We didn’t know who he was.

Next day, he came to football ground again. Bimaldai was also playing that day with us. Bimaldai was in his early twenties and was a well-known street fighter. His full time job was to sit behind the kisna mandir and play paya and bless the nearby bhatti during paya break. His “aasirbad” was required for bhuras like us to roam free in the tole. For some weird reasons, he used to come and play football with us-occasionally. So, the new dude sat by the sidelines today, didn’t dare to go near Barmu who was giving a freaky stare to him. The dude was running to get the out ball all the time. We all knew, he wanted to play but we didn’t want to include him for some unknown reasons. After about half-an hour, Bimaldai declared he is leaving, “la ma&^%$#haru ho, dai ta lagyo aba—timiharu kheli rakh”. We lost the balance. Bimaldai was playing from our team. So without him, we dropped to four and other team had five. No one wanted to sit out in the other team. We were arguing. For any team it was a wining deal to accept five players in the opposite team. If you lose, you say “timiahru panjana, hami char”, if you win, you say, “mu**haru pan-panjana bhera ni—thukka mu**ho.

Suddenly, Bimaldai looked at the new dude and asked, “ye ma&^%$# khelchhas?” The dude immediately jumped in. No one could argue with Bimaldai. “ke ho mu** tero nam?” Bimaldai asked. “Dipesh” The new dude answered. “ta mu** lai ta pahila dekhya chain ta—kaha mu** tero ghar?” Bimaldai asked him again? “Raajbiraj” Dipesh answered. “yaha kaha baschhas?” Bimaldai threw one more question at him? He showed to a house behind some trees and said “there”. “Ka mu** Prakas ka?” Bimal dai asked. “ho, buwako saruwa bhara aako---tyaha dera ma basni hami” Dipesh said with his friendly smile. We all were encircling him and Bimaldai. “la mu** ta mero tham ma khel” Bimaldai said and left. Dipesh palyed from our team. He was not great but was not bad either.

The next day, Dipesh came to the ground with gotibhako jutta, half-pants, and a t- shirt. None of us had such goti bhako jutta. We always talked about them but none of us had a pair. Just because he played from our team yesterday, he assumed that he was permanently assigned to our team. He came to our side again. No one protested, though. Slowly, he was accepted in our team and became one of us. He became a close friend of mine. Even Barmu was his buddy now. A couple of days later, he came to the ground writing big no.21 on the back of his white ganji with black sign pen. He was totally into the game. He was a friendly dude. Now, if he didn’t come on time, we all used to miss him. We really enjoyed his talk about Rajbiraj. I became really close to him.

It was just a couple of days before nauratha. We were, as always, gathered at the faant to play football in the afternoon. We were thirteen players. One had to sit out but none of us wanted to. It was not a new issue. We always used to convince someone to sit out for a while. I asked Dipesh to go to the sideline that day cuz I had done so in his favor just last week. But he refused. We argued, then I got mad and said “mar ta mu**” and came to the sideline. He immediately followed me and said, “bhaigo Deep, you play”. I looked at his face and saw him scared. “kina ke bho?” I asked him back. He didn’t say anything. Since he was not on the ground with other players, the game was stopped and other dudes were calling him. He just stood there with me. “ke bho mu**?” aghi ta niskinna bhanthis ta?” I asked him again. “Why did say that?” He asked me. “Said what?” I asked him? His tone was not of confronting but of resigning. Other guys came to us to know what was going on. “ke bho?” they asked. “khai ma&^%$ ke bho? Yo mu Dipesh ke bhanchha ke---“ I answered. Dipesh asked in some shaky voice, “Why did you say “mar ta”. Everybody laughed. “hya mu** mar ta bhandai ma marchhas ta mu**---la aaija khelna ma ta ma***** k k na bhayo bhanthanya—“ Barmu said. But Dipesh didn’t move.

I felt bad and said “sorry”. Dipesh said, “bhaigo Deep tai khel, I am going to miss the game for many days, anyway.” We all looked at him. “I am going home-Raajbiraj tomorrow for dashain with my parents” He said in a soft voice. Kumar asked, “kaile aauchhas?” “Purnima Pachhi”, Dipesh answered. Now, I really wanted him to play. So, I said, “sorry, Dipesh—maile tyasto naramro bicharle bhaneko haina—ta lai narmaro lagyo? I won’t say it again”. Bidyanas? He asked. Bidyanas, I answered. Feri nabhan hai ta tyasto? He asked. I said, “OK”. He played the whole time. Before he entered his dera-house he shook hand with all of us. We kept quiet for a minute then we laughed at him for his “andhabiswas”. “bholi ghar jana la re chha—mu** bus paltela bhanera dara hola n’ ta” Suraj said and we all laughed again. But I felt sorry for upsetting Dipesh. Man manai I prayed to the God “tyasko bus kehi pani nahos, bhagwan”.

Next day, I listened to the news and there was no news of bus accident. Few more days passed by, no accident news came to us. We all got involved in the dashain extravaganzas. Football was suspended for a few days. Schools were closed for a month. We were having a great time.

Poornimako bholipaltako saanj, I was standing by the bhairavthan feeling chilled air. Bimaldai, Shivadai, and many others were there too. I saw a taxi coming close and turned left toward oralo. I saw Dipesh by the window. He waved at me with his regular friendly smile. I also waved back at him. I was so relieved and happy to see him back. “Dipesh aayechha” I said. “Ko Dipesh?”Bimaldai asked. “tyai praksdai kaha basne”. I answered. “Khai?” Bimal dai asked looking around. “Tyo taxi ma gaisakyo” I pointed at the taxi that just disappeared descending. “maile ta dekhina” Bimaldai said. Well, I didn’t care whether Bimaldai saw him or not, but was so happy to see him back. Couldn’t wait to see him in the ground tomorrow.

****

Dashainko poornima ko parsi palta. Feri aaja pani we were only eleven players on the ground. Nobody wanted to sit until a partner showed up, same argument once again. I wanted Vaicha to sit out that afternoon. Why Vaicha? Well, who knows when was the last time he offered his position in favor of a fellow player. I don’t remember him ever volunteering to sit out------.

I was waiting for Dipesh to show up any moment now. In fact, I had mentioned to all the dudes that Dipesh is back, and I saw him coming last night in bhutesowr. Ten, or may be fifteen minutes in the game, I saw Bimaldai coming to the ground. He seemed fittu. Mu** Bimaldai fitan nabhai aa bhe’nta ma khelna pauthe ni, I thought. Bimaldai came to the side line and stared at me for a second. “He looked weird, I got scared.””ke bho, Bimaldai?” I quickly got up and asked him, then looked around to see which way is the safest one for me to run if this messed up Bimaldai decides to take a swing at me. He grabbed my collar with lightening speed and thundered with puzzeled voice, ‘taile hijo raati Dipeshlai dekhe bhanya haina bhutewswor ma mu**?” I was scared to death. I said, ‘ho dai”. Other players saw Bimaldai grabbing me. The game stopped and all ran toward us. “Ke bho dai?”Suraj asked.

“Mu** Dipesh died yesterday” Bimaldai spoke. We were all stunned. “Kasari?” Barmu asked holding the ball tight against his chest. “bata ma---bus ma---Rajbiraj bata aauda---Prakas was saying---Dipesh jhyal bata tauko nikalera bahira heri ra thyo re---arko pati bata aako busle taukai ma hirkayechha---taukai khattam!----I don’t remember what else Bimaldai was saying after that---because my head was spinning out of control. I was sure I had seen him last night in the taxi waving at me. I was thinking again and again “Was Dipesh last night, then, with his waving his hands saying goodbye to me?”