It is not everyday that one comes across a prodigy. That too in a nondescript bus journey from Patiala to Delhi.
Bus rides back home are usually quiet – nowhere as adventurous as barely making it on time to board the Shatabdi from Ambala. They are also uneventful : earphones are employed to nullify the film beaming from the bus’ unwelcome entertainment system; serendipitous, meaningful conversation with co-passengers is eliminated as collateral damage.
Things are different today. I am in the late afternoon service to the Delhi airport, and there is no need for earphones : has the conductor forgotten to put the latest Salman Khan starrer on? Or has the television system given in?
In any case, a fantastic silence results, owing to which I can sense that the man seated beside me is eager to talk. He begins with informing me that Delhi is not his final destination – Indigo flight 643 will ferry him to Pune early next morning – and soon makes the reason for his travels clear.
“My son, seated behind us,” he says, turning and pointing, and making sure I’ve placed him, continues, “is 14 years, 7 months and …” He waits for the Age Calculator app on his phone to tell him the exact number of days. The number that flashes is inconsequential to the story, because what he goes on to say puts his unusual specificity in mentioning his son’s age in perspective. “He is the three-time national U-17 archery champion. We are travelling to Pune to compete in the Senior National Championships. He is going to be competing against olympians.”
I can not tell if he can sense the pinch of salt I take his – as I do all – claims with, but he immediately begins scrolling through the photo gallery on his phone.
There is a story associated with each, and my doubts dissolve.
A picture of him on a podium, holding a silver medal up. “The youngest international medallist for the country, at the recent South Asian Championships in Bangladesh.”
Being honoured by the Chief Minister of Punjab, on Republic Day, 2018. “The Government of Punjab provides no support at all. Look at Haryana. Lakhs to its athletes, even for a junior national medal.”
Another picture on a podium; this time with a gold medal. “National winner at the Khelo India School Games in Delhi. The Sports Ministry has announced 5 lakhs per year, for 8 years, for all medallists at these School Games. The new minister needs to stay put for this to happen.”
There is a packed schedule in the year to come : a number of trials for the Indian team in April and May; international events in Europe and Africa in September and October, and covering all of class 10 mathematics and science in the intervening summer.
The bus glides along the highway. I hardly find time to gaze outside. The conversation is one sided, but there can be no complaints : I am soaking his sermon up. It ranges from advising me about health to motivating me about life in general. It is evident that he was born to coach.
The trip ends, but not before I am introduced to the rest of the athletes in their contingent. There are two girls – 16 and 17 – both national-level medallists themselves. I take a picture for posterity, and run a few Google searches as I deboard: Who has been the youngest Indian medal winner at the Olympics?
The result reminds me of the Age Calculator app. The number of days – that I dismissed earlier as being inconsequential – might yet be of consequence.
He surely looked the part.
Written and first published in April 2018