Calendarical Sense

It was the 7th of November, 1987. I was teaching at a local school in India. That day I wanted to leave early so that I could go to the city playground. The only problem was how would I get past the strict rules of the principal concerning letting anybody have a day off. So I wondered if I could be late instead.

As soon as the school bell rang for the end of the last period I ran out of the class. This of course left the students baffled as it were they who always ran out after the last bell, and I would see each one of them off. Well someone should’ve told them what an exception means. I sat in my car and left for the playground. It’s a place where I always go when I have to ponder over something, even if it is as late as midnight.

I seated myself under a tree, next to an old lady. She moved her grey head towards me (eyes still on the moving bowler), smiled and said, “Aren’t they talented!” Immediately she snapped her head back to the playground and cried out, “That was a no-ball Mr.!”

“What on earth,” I thought, “How would an old lady long past her retirement age know what a no-ball might be…”. My thought was interrupted by the angry lady when she said, (talking to herself), “An old lady long past her retirement age like me could be a better umpire than him for sure.” Which made me think that probably I was sitting next to a fortune-teller or at least a mind reader. Well, whatever, she seemed to be just the right person to help me find a possible solution to my problem. Why? Well that’s because she knew cricket and she was wise. What has cricket got to do with my problem? Well, actually I wa…

“Six!” cried out the lady, “That is what you get for cheating.”

“You’re right,” I said, trying to get into a conversation with Madame Buddhi Future-wise, but had a rude awakening to what kind of a person I was sharing the bench with when she said, “I know I am right.” I thought it wasn’t a good idea trying to get an advice out of a witch. So I said offensively, “You could’ve at least said thanks…”

“Shhhh!” she hushed, “Five runs to win, one ball left.” So I did move my attention towards the bowler pacing in. He swung the ball pretty well, but couldn’t maintain a good length. The batsman threw his bat clumsily at the ball, but all the same managed to become the Miandad of this old woman. She wasn’t biting her nails off anymore like she had been since I had seen her, but was jumping up and down like the Sharjah Girls jumped for Miandad back in ’86.

When she eventually calmed down, which I thought she never would, I said, “You must be pretty fond of cricket to be over here in a weather like this.”

“Nahin Baitta,” she said in an exalted tone. “Then you must be a relative of someone of the wining side to be so happy,” trying to show how lucky I can be at guessing. “Well you can say yes and you can say no,” she said as she seemed to be lost somewhere now, “Actually I am childless, so I satisfy my motherly instincts by being amongst children when ever I have the time. What about you Baitta, how did you come over here?”

I thanked God that she finally got to the point and said, “Well Auntie, I love cricket. I used to play it a lot as a student, but I can’t find time for it any more. I still like to watch big tournaments. Now, tomorrow for example, I yearn to see the final of the World Cup ’87 at Eden Park, but a problem lies in the way.” “What kind of a problem?” She asked, seeming concerned and making me realise that she really did have that motherly instinct she was talking about and that I had pre-judged her wrong.

“I teach at this school that commences at 8:00 in the morning and continues till two. On the other hand the match starts at 9:00. As it takes two hours to reach Calcutta from here, I’ll either have to leave for Calcutta today to be there in time or if tomorrow, I’ll have to leave before 7:00. Now my boss is the problem. She never lets anyone have a day off of the school, especially men. So that means that if I start from here after school, I’ll reach there by 4:00 in the evening. And by then probably the match will be over. I have even bought the ticket well in advance and on top of it in black at a price that exceeds my salary of half a year. So what do you say?”

Starting with a “Hmmm!” she started bombarding me with suggestions, so many that a book could be written on it. But neither of them satisfied me. At last when she found me very stubborn, she left me alone to think for myself.

I slept on it and by morning I had decided that as I lack guts to face the principal, I'd have to forget about the whole idea.

I reached school in time, but the school seemed to be completely barren. 5 minutes passed by, 10 minutes passed, even quarter of an hour of the first period passed by, but no one turned up. I thought probably the children had bunked school to see the match. This flared my guts into activation and made me head towards the principal’s office to tell her that I wanted to go to the match but didn’t go only to keep regard of her rules, and what I got in return was an empty class.

I strode towards her office, where I found the sweeper who asked me very politely, “Sahib! Aap yahaan Ravivar ko?”

“Sunday?!?!? Grrrr! Only if that woman had some Calendarical Sense!”