The Sports Day that wasn't!

So there I was, waiting in the reception-area of the newspaper-office I was interning at. Or at least, would be, as soon as the District Editor arrived and officially authorized me to.

The receptionist was towards the cuter end of the spectrum, so I didn’t hunch while I sat and tried to make small-talk. My mentor, a senior reporter at the newspaper, had seated me there and run off after a phone call.

He strode in, the DE, a man who looked like he might have fought the Second World War. Not as ferocious, but as old. He brushed past me into his cabin, and the receptionist signaled me to be up on my feet.

Miraculously, my mentor arrived, and escorted me in. The DE didn’t acknowledge my presence, and began to pour on the day’s paper. I was in control, but only just. Introductions were made.

“So you’ve written on sports,” he asked at length, still not looking at me.

“Yes sir”, I answered,” I’m a regular at Sportskeeda…you might have heard-“

He looked up, and primal human instinct made me stop talking that instant. “The internet is junk. So that’s nothing to be too proud about. Better not get cocky during your time here.”

I almost held up my palm to swear that I wouldn’t. “Let him go cover that Sports-Meet”, I realized he was staring at the negative space between me and my mentor. Awkward silence, something I’m not very good with.

“Yes sir”, I hustled out with my mentor, who looked at me with a nervous smile, and told me where I had to go.

The receptionist waved me goodbye, and I caught the bus, which brought me to…

VEERAPANDIAN HIGHER SECONDARY SCHOOL, the arch above the creaky gate said (name altered for fear of being sued…or worse). An ancient banner announced that it was the Annual Sports Day, and the year had been painted over and over again.

Inside, children – loads of them – wearing soiled white shirts and shorts, picking noses and fights, standing in files, waiting for something, or someone. I’d been briefed that some local politician was the Guest of Honor, and there were some actual photographers hanging about. A faculty member was handling what he thought was Press Relations, and he seated me with the photographers and handed me tea and samosas. I thought I’d ask him a few questions.

“So, really charged up atmosphere here, your students are very enthusiastic about sports, aren’t they?”

He smiled, apparently pleased that someone was actually asking him stuff. “Yes, yes. Our school management gives equal importance to sports and co-curricular activities. All round development of children is must, see?”

“Great! So what kind of infrastructure do you have here?”

“We have a ground, a big ground,” he extended his arms-to show me how big it was, apparently, “and we even brought a new cricket bat this year, and-“

I noted this down, and paused, thinking there was more. He stared at me, as though he’d just realized something, “I need to be going. MLA sir will be here soon.” He disappeared.

“MLA sir” indeed arrived. By then the students had been waiting in the sun for an hour. Then there were garlands, crackers, the school-band did its thing, and flag-hoisting. The photographers had all raced forward and were clicking away madly at the politician weighed down by a ton of garlands but was smiling broadly and waving.

He took the dais, and wished all students a successful Sports Day. Or at least that’s how he began.

“As I see these young, energetic faces,” he continued, “I remember my old days. In 1964, when my party came to power….” He embarked on a journey down memory-lane, never to return. I didn’t get most of it but one thing was clear – he wasn’t talking about anything remotely related to sports.

Fifteen minutes, thirty, forty-five, an hour… I realized sleeping through my first assignment wasn’t exactly a correct step down the career path, but the man left me no choice. Political bashing was in full swing, and I’d suddenly wake up to hear about yet another year, and another, and another.

Applause. I was instantly on alert. The politician waved, and was escorted off the stage. The photographers were upon him like bloodhounds let loose, and he happily obliged. He patted an ecstatic looking Principal, got in his car, and left.

I looked at my watch. Two hours had started and a “Sports Day” was yet to begin.

Five minutes later, the photographers had disappeared, equipment and all. They’d been here to cover the MLA, not the Sports-Day.

And so it began. White lime had been used to mark a single track that was divided into four separate lanes. Fifteen children raced on it, all at once. There was a lot of pushing and shoving, and in the end the student who won was at least eight inches taller than everyone else, and had a disturbing amount of facial hair. One round of racing later, it was lunch-time, apparently, and all faculty-members took off to a food-counter that’d been set up inside the school-building. The PR guy who’d smiled at me earlier looked mildly annoyed to see me still hanging around now.

Outside, pandemonium. In the absence of their teachers, the students were running around all over the place. Races were being organized at random, and I’m sure I spotted some of the elder students, almost as tall as me, collecting bets. Someone had brought out the “new cricket bat” and a game of cricket had started in a corner, the girls had collected themselves into bunches and were braiding each other’s hair and gossiping.

After what seemed like an hour, the teachers returned. Many walked straight to the gate, oblivious to the students. A few stayed behind, roaring at the children to “stop playing and go home.”

I walked to one of them, a grumpy man with bloodshot eyes with a whistle around his neck, and introduced myself. He was the school’s faculty for Physical Education. “Sir, is this it? Sports Day is over?”

“What did you expect – the Olympics? You know how expensive it was to organize this much alone?” He barked at some boys who were still at playing cricket to leave, which they did in a hurry.

“But what about trophies, and certificates…” I stammered, eyeing a table at a corner on which a bunch of trophies shone in the afternoon sun.

He made a grunting sound, and answered, “Oh that is for show for Manthriji. Maybe we will get around to giving them away at next year’s Sports Day,” I realized the ‘grunting’ was actually laughter.

I returned to the office, my notepad blank but my assignment complete. On the way back, I’d stopped at a Café Coffee Day outlet and written an article using my imagination about an ideal Sports Day.

The DE read it, and smirked. “You sure this is what happened?”

I nodded. “More or less, sir.”

The smirk grew wider, “Son, I was a student at that school. And I know nothing has changed over there for the past 50 years.”

I smiled, and promised I’d write an article on what actually happened that day, on Sportskeeda. And here I am, keeping my promise.