To Sir with love
A tribute to a good-hearted sports teacher
The original story credit goes to Rohan Weerakkody, my lifelong pal and classmate in junior school who compiled this storyline in Sinhala titled අකුරු නොකෙරූ ගුරුකම
After a soccer game, I sat on the ground near the wall separating the sports ground and the school buildings. I was in the company of my mates, my fellow soccer buddies. In a relaxed mood, we chatted with each other, who were also my school’s old boys, removing our soccer boots in slow motion and seated on the grass.
From the western side of the ground, rays from sunset brightened the top of the school building, enveloping it in gold. That was not the first day, I witnessed and enjoyed the twilight at sundown. Nobody was in a rush to go home.
My bond with the ground went back eighteen years. My footprints were all over the soccer pitch, at every inch of the vast ground. Five years had gone by since I left school. But it was as if I had returned to the ground, looking for something missing. My love for soccer brought me to my old school’s sports ground daily.
While we were chatting, removing our boots, a figure walked towards us on the footpath. From the figure’s movements, as he came closer, everyone identified who that was from his silhouette. A cane in his hand brushed against his white pants. His job was to enforce the school rule that no student could be on the ground after six pm. He was well-built, hulky, and walked erect. He was an imposing figure with his dark looks and thick black moustache. He was an authority for the young boys. The sound of his Triumph motorbike was sufficient to alert them to be on their guard. He was Master Abraham, the sports teacher at the school.
Master Abraham stood on the wall that separated the building and the sports ground where we were seated on the grass. The lads stopped their chatter when Master Abraham arrived. One by one, we stood up in respect. With his sharp eyes, he inspected the lads, checking to see if any schoolboys were amongst us. His roving eyes stopped at me.
“අයිසේ, Rohan, you are a brilliant soccer player. Your soccer skills are advanced. You have talent. If you get rid of your smoking habit, you will go places. You could play at the national level and play for Sri Lanka’s soccer team”.
Master Abraham’s deep voice penetrated me, unsettling me. I did not look up but was listening to him fervently. Master Abraham’s Northern Sri Lankan accent, the way he said that reverberated in my head, its impact deeply felt. I did not dare to look up and kept my head down, listening to the master.
I felt like an offender caught in the act. Continuing to look down, I tried to hide my tears, bubbling at the edge of my eyes. The darkness helped to conceal my tears from the others. The master’s praise, instead of making me proud, unmasked me like never before.
I felt restless, vulnerable, and exposed for the next few days. During my last few years in school, I took up smoking. With my darkened lips and skinny frame, it was no secret that I was a smoking addict. Everybody knew that. Nobody could advise me to give it up. I did not listen to anyone who tried to convince me to shed my dreadful habit. With my cavalier attitude, I was not the type to listen to a teacher. I would not have listened if one had tried to advise me to give up.
Master Abraham was cluey and astute at figuring me out, and as a student, I was not the type to listen. He had waited until I was old enough.
But for me, the whole thing was not only about my addiction. I understood that the master had studied me, and his reaction resulted from many years of thoughtful observation. It was a warning to evaluate the pride and self-armour that I had been thriving on. It was a challenge to my sense of rights and morality.
His few words changed my life.
Synopsis
Only an enlightened and thoughtful teacher could advise a lad no longer under his command.
During a sunset, in under a few minutes, Master Abraham transformed Rohan’s life. After that encounter, Rohan gave up smoking. He played for the national soccer team in Sri Lanka. Rohan changed and became a knowledge seeker.
Written as a tribute to Reter Francis Abraham, the benevolent sports teacher at St. Anthony’s College, Wattala, for over thirty years. Composed by Rohan Weerakkody in September 2022 in සිංහල, the Sri Lankan language, translated by Denzil Jayasinghe
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Images and artwork belong to Denzil Jayasinghe