Some Games you can’t play/ බැරි සෙල්ලම්

Kumar closed the youtube window that was popped up in his PC .

The small clip of the heavily spun ball  pitching on the on dust and turning a way in slow motion , repeats  again in his mind.

 “ There is pus rising” he could hear the voice of the Master Blaster .

 What Siri said earlier at lunch  was correct. This fellow should have stopped at  his fastest 50 , fastest century, fastest marriage (or was it two) &  shortest retirement. This commentating business is driving it too far.

The grand old lady of the British monarch has been murdered then and there , the pride of a nation has been shattered by bad pronunciation.

Kumar’s eyes stopped at the photograph on his table , of a younger self holding a soccer ball with his proud father hugging him . Young boy of early teens had a small trophy in his other hand . His only achievement in the sporting arena , player of the game in a U15 interschool match. His  mind travelled a few decades back and stopped at one Thursday  evening . A young boy waiting near the wooden gate  for his father to come from work .

"තාත්ති  ලබන  සතියේ  අපේ  under 13 ටීම්  එකට සිලෙක්ෂන්  තියෙනවා . සර් කිව්වා බැට් එකක් , පෑඩ් නම් කාගෙන් හරි ඉල්ලා ගන්න පුළුවන් , හැබැයි අනිත් ඒවානම් තියෙන්නේ ඕනේ කියලා.  සපත්තු , සුදු කොට කලිසමක් , සුදු ටී ෂර්ට් එකක් , බෝල් ගාර්ඩ් ....තාත්ති අපි සෙනසුරාදා  ගිහිල්ල ගමුද ඒවා ?"
 (Dad, we are having selections for our under 13 Cricket team. Master said we could share the bat and the pads , but we have to have the other equipment. Can we buy them on Saturday?)

Then spread silence , like a drop of ink spreading through a glass of water . Water was never the same .

 He could remember his father looking at his mother and his mother turning her eyes to the ground .

“පුතා මට ලිස්ට් එක දෙන්නකෝ  , මම හෙට Chands එකේ බලන්නම්” 
A helpless father’s attempt to end an uncomfortable conversation .

The next day was long as a day would  get, when a 11 year old boy waits for something .  Kumar was  dreaming of the  future of sixes and fours that were all his.

He did not remember what time his father came or  what he asked .
All what he could remember was his father handing him a soccer ball , stroking his head and saying

“"මට හිතෙන්නේ ලොකුට  වැඩිය ගැලපෙන්නේ  ෆූට්බෝල්  කියලා , ක්‍රිකෙට් වලට වඩා  , අපි  ඊළඟ  සතියේ  සපත්තු  දෙකක්  ගමු ”
(I think Football suits you more than Cricket . Let’s buy the shoes next week)

Then while his whole world went through an eclipse , he faintly remember hearing his parents talking

“මට කාගෙන්වත්  ඉල්ලගන්නත්  බැරි  උනා,  පඩි  වලටත්  තව  දවස්  අටක්  තියෙනවනේ , මේක CWE එකේ තිබ්බ . හැත්තෑ පහයි ” “
(I could not borrow from anybody . Salary is also 8 days away . I bought this at CWE  for seventy five )

“ලොකු ලොකු  ඉස්කෝල වලට යැව්වට ඔය ඔක්කොම සෙල්ලම් කරන්නත් බැනේ . ටික දවසකින් එයාට අමතක වෙයි .  “ ( We can not afford all this . I am sure he will forget in a few days ) 

A wife tried to help the beaten father get over bitter aftertaste the reality of the lower middleclass kicks in one’s within.

Back to the future and Kumar is typing a comment in singlish on the facebook, below the place where the video was  shared .

“ Ane Sana  ana ganniy . bari sellam nokara hitin”  

(Dear Sana , please don’t go to play unknown games)

And he presses share.