For Some The Nation Comes First, Always First :
# Nation First, Always First :
“Out of a nation of one billion there is not a single runner in the 100-meter-dash!” Snigdha Babu, a close friend of his father, murmured shaking his head vehemently. “It’s a shame for a country like ours.”
“I can’t but agree with you more, Snigdha. Don’t you remember that there has been only one Flying Sikh since our childhood?”
“But he is a Punjabi,” retorted Snigdha Babu.
“So what? He’s India’s pride. It’ll take us at least 50 years more before we have patriotic athletes of his stature,” his father, Samir replied. They were all watching the Asian Games, ’98 being held at the Thai capital, Bangkok.
Little Sourav watched the race to the finish before turning his head towards his father. Sourav knew it quite well that when it came to Sports and Games, India was no match for even some Asian countries like China, Japan or Korea. After Snigdha Babu left, Samir put his hand across Sourav’s shoulders and said: ” Whether there is an athlete representing India from Punjab, Kerala or Kashmir, remember, my son, that we are Indians first, the nation always comes first before everything else. We are Indians before being Bengalis, Marathis or Punjabis..”
The dream of being a runner was born in little Sourav at around this time. The dream of winning a medal for India and helping the national flag soar as well.
The next 5 years were spent for the preparation. Those were some of the hardest days of his life. He started participating in the 100-meter dash by the time he was in Class-VI. By the time he was in IX, he had not only established himself as the fastest runner at school but also at the state level. He had won 134 medals of all colours by then from different meets.
SAI (Sports Authority of India) happened soon afterwards.
The early days of training at SAI were nightmarish. A rustic lad from Joypur, Howrah, Sourav found it hard to cope with the life at SAI Camp adjacent to Juva Bharati Kirangan, popularly known as Salt Lake Stadium in Kolkata. His mother, being aware of his dream, used to give Sourav a little amount. The amount was not even enough for the to and fro journey from Bagnan.
Unknown to his mother, Sourav started doing the dishes for a chhatuwala ( chickpea umbrella, the stuff obtained from chick pea) selling chhatu behind the stadium. In return, he was given a plateful of chhatu with a piece of onion and chillies. That’s how he survived in Kolkata but the good thing for him was that he was getting noticed on the ground. There were athletes from all over India undergoing the training at the Sports Complex. Sourav’s ranking came down to 13 by the end of 2007. Not bad considering that unlike the other inmates, he had to run the races without shoes!
His gradual rise to fame was due to Ajit Sir, their coach, who would egg him on every morning in the stadium. “Run, Sourav, run. Tujhe bahat dur jana hain…” ( Even the sky is not the limit for you, Sourav.)
On a Saturday, Sourav was in the stadium as usual. He, Amlan, Amiya, Arshad, Anirudh had all completed the race under the watchful eye of Ajit Sir some forty times. After every finish, they had walked back to the start point of the track. That was the only break they had inbetween! Then all left, dead tired and exhausted except Sourav.
He was tired, no doubt. Even hungry. But he stayed back in the tracks. His dream didn’t let him sit down and rest. The Nationals were going to be held soon and he had to win the race this time around. It was now or never. The meagre prize money he was winning, was not enough to help him buy a pair of canvas shoes that he needed desperately to stay alive in the rat race, he thought to himself.
Sourav knew what he was going to do. For some extra money, he would take part in the 400-meter in a meet somewhere. He would be among the top-3 for sure. He had no doubt about that. And with that money, buying the shoes costing around 12,000, might be a possibility. That’s why he stayed back for the others to leave. As he headed back to the start point, the words of Ajit Sir came to his mind.
“Sourav, did you drink enough water today? For an aspiring winner of the Nationals, it is a must to have lots of water daily, my boy…”.
Unfortunately, he had hardly had a glass of water since morning. Perching his lips, he bent down on the track. His right leg fully stretched behind him, his left bent at the knee, ahead of the right, his hands placed on the lines. He would say ‘Start’ to himself and the preparation for the 400-meter would begin. He was all set, about to start the sprint all by himself when his left leg slipped and skidded. Sourav lost his balance and fell face forward on the ground.
The next few hours were hours of excruciating pain, sheer torture and the apparent end of all his dreams of winning the 100-meter dash for India.
The Doc at the Hospital informed him that he had a ligament in the left leg torn and it would be a miracle if he could run a race again. That was the last he had seen of his Coach. His friends. His Club.
Sourav had learnt from the Doc that his hope of getting back to the track would lie mostly in undergoing a surgery but whether he could afford it as it would be ‘too expensive”, something in the vicinity of 7-8 lacs!
Sourav, disheartened, never felt so broken before. Standing near the Sabgachhtala Bridge, on the way back home that evening, Sourav even contemplated suicide for the first and last time in his life. Possibly Mother India didn’t want sons like him. But the thought of his parents, his love, Mita, stopped him from carrying out what would surely have been a great sin.
He got back home quite late that night and from the next day on, started looking for a job. Luckily for him, the Chairman of a newly come-up English Medium School in their locality, who was known to him, had recruited him as a brand ambassador for his school in the year before, employed him as the Physical Education Trainer of the school.
His parents, the new job, the children at school and not to forget Mita, gave him new hope and kept him going during this most critical phase of his life.
There is a saying in English that ‘Old habits die hard’. Hardly a year had passed, when Sourav found himself back in the village track again, the track where he practised in his childhood. The recovery was slow but brought the much-needed relief.
“Are you tired, Love? Please take a break if you have to.” Mita would always be there in the early hours of the morning to give him the moral support that he needed badly.
That’s how the rededication began. Sourav went to the hospital one afternoon and talked to the doctor about the surgery. He had always been a very popular figure in Joypur, having rendered a lot of community services. The doctor told him that he could run the race again provided he underwent the surgery immediately. Sourav also learnt the estimated cost of the operation. It would cost him no less than ten lacs.
The next 3 months went off like in a daze. But the local people were behind him all along. People from all walks of life came out to help this school teacher-cum-social worker in large numbers. The Chairman, a few colleagues and the whole of Joypur contributed in their own inimitable ways to the price of the operation.
Sourav’s operation was a success. He started practising particularly for the Nationals from the next day on. When he was left with no other option than to tender in his resignation, the Chairman asked him to continue working in the school as a visiting PT Teacher. With the support of his former club, Mohon Bagan AC, his other contacts, Sourav represented the state in the National Games and won a memorable race.
He subsequently got selected for the Asian Games in Qatar.
The entire Bagnan, nay, the district of Howrah, nay the entire nation was there sitting before their TV sets, as the names of the participants were being announced live on TV. For the first time in the history of the Games there were two Indians in the Final. Sourav, as per his timing in the heats was placed in lane number 3, followed by a Japanese in the next lane with the other Indian in lane 8.
Far away from Qatar, Mita was watching the 100-meter finals as well. Sourav, in the Indian blue jersey, was looking in great shape. Just as he pressed his hands down on the ground, Mita thought that his face flinched for a moment.
“God, you’ve already made him suffer a lot. Don’t desert him today at any cost. His dream, don’t You know, My Father, is not his any more?” Mita cried, uttering a silent prayer.
The gun was fired just then and Sourav darted across like the wind. But the Sri Lankan sprinter in lane 2 caught up with him by the half way mark with the Chinese in lane 1 breathing down their necks.
The Sri Lankan runner made the mistake of turning his head to make sure that he had overtaken Sourav. That was a huge mistake. Sourav dashed ahead – the words of his father ringing in his mind:
“The nation comes first before everything else, my son. Never ever let her down….”
Where did the strength in his legs come from? He was said to have flown, not run, in the race that evening, his feet rarely touching the ground. As he breasted the tape at the finishing point, the stadium erupted in a tumultuous celebration. For the first time, an Asian had broken the 9.5 seconds barrier.
Amlan, who finished a creditable fifth, was the first to congratulate him. It was also Amlan who asked someone for the tirangaa.
As Sourav wrapped himself with the huge flag and started running around for the victory lap, there were jubilant scenes back home as well. While his father, with tears coursing down, handed a five hundred note to a relative to get sweets for all those gathered around his house, Mita was seen busy texting to her friends :
To some people, their country always comes first. They can die for the country, unhesitatingly. Sourav is one of them. I am lucky to bask in his sweet-smelling fragrance (Sourav) and glory.
The end
