Rajeev Khanna, Solan
Dear Aditya,
Your mail just moved me. It made me come across something which I have been missing unconsciously in my life. She is a futeball (football to be precise), but that is how I have always called her. I have written twice on her but have not retained those pieces. The first one I wrote, when I was just in class four. It was an English exercise and I had actually written a good hundred and fifty words on her as an autobiographical account. I don’t remember much but it had such lines as, ‘I was manufactured in a leather factory and was sold by a fat salesman in a sports shop.’
The next time, I had written about her was in a state of elation—a stage when my romance was going strong and that helped me get philosophical once in a while. But the woman (you know who I am referring to) took the piece away. Today, I sit once again to write about my love for the futeball. I have looked at her in a different way. I rediscovered my relationship with her after having read that you too had possessed one, a blue one, as a kid in Solan.
In my case, she has always been black and white. For me she has represented the black and white patches of life. Looking at her, I have always felt that these black and white patches are inseparable and have to be stitched together to make a full round ball that might as well represent our lives.
The air pressure inside her often reflects our egos—inflated, deflated, or ideal. My futeball has always given me company, however lonely I have ever been.
Imagine me opening the door of my house or hovel and just behind is a futeball. As the door opened, she greeted me with her movement. Before I could even switch the light on, her form was visible in the form of a silhouette emerging from the light outside. Above all, she had always greeted me with a thud after she touched something.
She was always there to move with my toes from one corner to another. She was something which I could dribble with my feet and hit hard when I was annoyed. At the same time, I could always hold her close to my chest with my both hands… even put her on my head. She never complained. Would I find any other companion that can parallel her. No.
Thanks once again of having reminded me of her. I will keep my eyes open for a sports shop once again in the days to come. Maybe our eyes (mine and that of a futeball in a shop window) meet again. The flame of our relation burns on a high scale once again and as usual my desire to possess her once more makes me stop and bring her home…
Yours,
Gops
(Rajeev Khanna is a veteran journalist with over thirty years of experience across print, broadcast and digital media. He has worked with leading media organisations, including BBC, Asian Age, Indian Express, Times of India and Tribune, and has contributed to digital platforms such as The Citizen, The Wire, Scroll, National Herald and Down To Earth. An avid reader since his student days in Solan and Shimla, he maintains a deep interest in literature and occasionally ventures into fiction writing. His other passions include cinema, music, travel and sports, reflecting his wide-ranging intellectual and cultural interests.)
Nurturing Creativity – Keekli Charitable Trust, Shimla
