Nitin Mishra
On that very day, from early morning there was a tremendous commotion in every street of the town. The government had declared to award the country’s most prestigious award to this forty-three years old football player. It was a national award, so the government was also very interested in making the award ceremony a grand success. So did the local citizens as well. All decorated their alleys, and every household was having its moment to celebrate. This famous football player had taken the football techniques to the next level. His elegant massive posters with very flowery words were attached to every corner of the streets. All day long the television and all the radio stations blared about the famous football player. Everyone in the city seemed to be in an extremely joyous mood as if someone from their own household was being celebrated.
No doubt he deserved such decorations. He had spent his entire life on the growth of his national football team. He remained a bachelor just to remain focused on his art. He thought of nothing but football. He was a famous man who had nothing and everything at the same time. Sometimes he regretted not having started a family life. But when he talked about his contributions, he felt elated and assuaged all his regrets.
The award ceremony was scheduled at eleven a.m. sharp. The president of the country was invited to handover this award to the player.
The security was tight as there were lots of people assembled in the stadium. Almost every major television channel broadcast the event live. So, the ones who could not come to the stadium were riveted to their seats with undisturbed attention on their television set. No one wanted to miss the live event. The footballer was a hero of the day, indeed.
Exactly at eleven a.m. after the president and other important figures of the country arrived, the famous player was invited to the stage.
He strutted past the audience, completely looking indifferent to their cheers and hooting. He was clad in a suit intended to be worn on such a special occasion. He looked quite dapper in a linen suit, striped shirt, and black shoes. He took small steps as he approached towards the president, who was waiting for him with a huge award in his hands. The award was so huge; it had to be supported by another person.
Finally, the moment came, and he was handed over the award very ceremoniously. A medium-sized army orchestra played the national tune, and the entire stadium was radiant and overpowered with such enthusiasm the country had ever seen.
It was quite exemplary and out of the ordinary. There was no nonsense at all. It was indeed and indeed a moment of great unparalleled cherishment for the audience.
The famous footballer stood in the middle of the stage showing his newly gained prestigious award. Just then, a shot was heard from the audience and before anyone could figure out what had just happened, the player was knocked down on the stage floor. He was shot in the upper part of his chest. Sudden commotion permeated the crowd. People ran everywhere wherever they could find another inch to put their foot on. The police and the security guards rushed forward to protect the president and other important figures present on the podium.
The player was seen bleeding badly. His thick red blood oozed out in all directions on the stage while the world watched this. The medical practitioners rushed to the scene, and the victim was rushed to the nearby hospital. Soon afterwards, he was declared dead. The entire city stopped for a moment and people went wild with anger and resentment to find out who had executed such a hideous task.
The same question was asked by everyone: Why would anyone want to kill such a great football player?
The one who shot did not move or try to escape from his position. He was a man of about twenty-eight years old with an unshaven, bluish-crimson countenance whostood with his head held high as if waiting for another grand accolade.
Rapidly he was surrounded by the man in badge pointing their sharp rifles towards him. The killer stood there silently as calm as a sea looking up towards the sky whiles a sudden expression of resentment overpowered his face. He tried to maintain his calmness but soon he was forced to drop the gun to the floor and put up his both hands up in the air. Soon, the shooter was confined.
Meekly, though, he followed all those instructions and surrendered himself to authority. To avoid any further chaos, the killer was at once rushed to the nearby police station. A huge, wildly excited crowd followed the van in which the killer was detained. They all wanted to know the reason for his gruesome murder.
At the police station, he was surrounded. They began the hideous act of brutal interrogation as he was caught red-handed. He was not a suspect; he was the confirmed killer.
“Why did you kill such a player…. did you know he was the pride of our nation…?” one interrogator asked.
He remained untroubled and tranquil. His head at the station was bent low as if viscous dogs had gnawed it.
All over his neck and shoulder, the police could see the tattoo painting of the deceased player. Even on the back of his neck, the very name of the player was engraved. His lower thigh also had the same name tattooed.
The police were quite perplexed to witness all this. They could not fathom what all that meant. Every time he was asked something, he assumed a very sentimental expression and blew his nose indecisively. They kept repeating the same question for two hours straight, but the killer did not even utter a syllable. A constable hurriedly approached and informed that the killer’s wife and daughter had come for a visit. Both mother and daughter were conducted towards the room where the killer was detained. As soon as he spotted his family, he seemed to have realized what he had done and the gravity of the moment. Holding his daughter, he looked all around him as if he was just introduced to the room. He looked at his wife with eyes full of tears and struggled to say anything. All of sudden his face changed to a lachrymose expression.
He looked into his wife’s eyes and uttered,
“I am sorry I am sorry… he was a dominant player, and I loved him so much,” His wife looked all confused and asked in a way that she was lacking all zeal and determination,
“You were and always have been a very ardent follower and lover of the player, then why…?” Suddenly she stopped mopping both her eyes with her bare hands.
His family was taken away from the scene and was asked to remain in the next adjoining room while they continued the interrogation. Sometimes later, a tall but slim gentleman with a bald head and sharp eyes entered the room. He was the chief police inspector. He oversaw the investigation of this murder matter.
He retorted in a rather unfriendly and harsh tonality,
“I am not requesting you anymore… I am demanding you tell us why you committed this horrid crime.”
The murderer looked all around and behaved like an infant suddenly separated from his mother. He wiped his face and asked for a glass of water. The water was instantly produced, and he drank in a gulp.
“Now speak…, will you?” Blurted the chief police inspector.
The killer began in a very controlled and normal tone.
“I have admired him, always, always… as far I can remember since I knew myself, I am fond of football and watching him from a tender age deepened my love and devotion for him.”
Suddenly, dramatically, he gave peculiar shapes to his face, contorted with anger.
“He had to be killed, he had to be killed, if not me then someone like me ought to have killed him a long time ago…long time ago….”
The chief inspector sternly looked at him, raising his eyebrows and holding his chin with left palm.
“What do you mean… you just told you worshipped the player and now you correct he had to be killed…? Blah… blah…. blah…” he growled.
“Be consistent in your statement. I am warning you; you understand….’’
“Yes, I do,”meekly the killer acknowledged.
Assuming the harsh tone, he confessed,“He destroyed me, he made me what I am today, he completely ruined my life… he is to be blamed for all this destruction,”
With added conviction he rattled, growing even angrier like a wild beast unfed for days.
“I could never ever condescend to anything as pathetic and unforgiveable as this had it not been for the welfare of my family,” He admitted, fixing his red building eyes on the chief.
“My devotion to this man made me neglect my family. Once I went to see his game, just not caring to attend my daughter’s birthday of which she had been planning for months.”
“Is that being a good father?”
“I stole money from my wife’s savings so that I could buy a first-class seat and observe the player in proximity.”
“You tell me, sir, is that being a dutiful husband…?”
He sat motionless, not saying or gesturing anything. He sat half reclining with a mournful smile.
“But I made a very grave mistake by killing such a fine player… I know God shall never excuse me and is sure to dip my miserable soul thousand times in hell.”
With a very pitiful accent, he prayed, “May his soul rest in heaven for good.”
There was a profound silence available all over the room all at once. The observers in the room were in a quandary. It was just not possible to believe what the killer had just confessed.
“Because of my devotion to him, I have turned into an object of disgust and hatred for my family. By his cunning art, he knowingly or unknowingly seduced me to run away from my parent’s home.” Hiding his face with both his hands, he sobbed indignantly.
“Oh my god my mother loved me so much, she just doted on me and what did I do in return?… I ran away to follow a man who does not even know a bit about my existence at all.”
“Is that being an obedient son? “
“Later I heard she died not being able to cope up my separation,” he aggressively lamented.
He shouted and screamed like a lunatic,
“And just because his football show would be missed, I did not even bother to attend her funeral…. ”
“Wow, what a son am I?”
He stole a glance at everyone watching him. Out of nowhere, an ecstatic smile advanced on his face.
“So, I declare the footballer is responsible for all these losses I’ve had, so I had to put an end to his life.”
“Do you see a very important thing here, sir? It is not only me I have saved, in fact I have saved thousands of his devotees who just worship him, neglecting their duty as a father, son, brother and, overall, a decent human.”
As if giving up all hopes from his life, he heaved a deep and long sign and whispered,
“May be his death will make some family alive.”
Nothing but a silence was heard in the room.
