The Political Agent

This story dates back to the late 1940s just before India became independent from the British rule. I was barely ten years old. My father who was a doctor worked in a government hospital at a small town in North India which was also the capital of a tiny princely state. Once every month, this town had an important visitor, an Englishman, who was called 'Political Agent'. A tall, smart and very much a white guy, he looked very striking in his khaki shorts, a matching bush shirt and a solar hat. He would stay in the civil rest house for the duration of his visit which was usually about two days.

The Political Agent, represented nothing less than the King or Queen of England, our erstwhile supreme ruler! He would begin his day by first visiting the palace, the residence of our own King of this state, as a matter of courtesy. Having done with that formality, he would visit the main government institutions including the hospital where my father worked. I remember, he appeared very friendly as I discovered when I happened to go to my father's room in the hospital by sheer chance when he was visiting. He tried to shake my hands as I shied away from him. My father it seemed had jokingly told him that I was very fussy in my food habits and did not like vegetables. On this, he remarked to me in broken Hindi, 'do you want to be tall and fair like me? then you simply must eat vegetables' or words to that effect!

This particular visit of the Political Agent was going to be his last as the British had decided to pack up, unable to hold India any longer. The battle cry 'Quit India' of the Indian people led by Mahatma Gandhi was soon to become a reality. The people of this small town, just as a sort of a send off to the Political Agent, had managed to organize a football match between a team of English soldiers from a nearby garrison and our own local team. The Political Agent and our King of this state were to be the chief guests.

Now let me introduce to you to another person, a key character to this story, one Mahadev Singh, a teacher from our primary school. We all students of this school were simply shit scared of him, he was a very strict disciplinarian. Just to give you an idea, we would prefer to wet our pants than to ask for his permission to go to the loo during his class! In his early thirties, he was a good football player. He was the star player and captain of our ragged local team. The English team on the other hand was too just too good. Most of them were young six-footers and had beaten us by a dozen goals, couple of times in the past. So, this match was more of a ceremonial thing, nothing much was expected except some good, clean fun!

It was a Sunday afternoon when the match was to be played on the grounds of our High School. People arrived in festive mood to witness the event. In due time, the two teams reached the playground with the two referees. Soon after, our King and the Political agent arrived in the King's car. They took their seats, the referees signaled the start of the match with a long whistle. The match was on!

It appeared that our team was playing the game this day with a renewed fervor. Maybe, they were infused with the spirit of independence which was on the horizon. But,it was obvious that it was not going to be enough. The 'Tommies', as we called the English players would not give any quarter and soon were ahead with two goals against our team. Our players, much smaller in size and stamina as compared to their towering opponents, could barely take possession of the ball, but could not go anywhere near the goal posts of their opponents. And it was half time! What was remarkable though was that we had conceded only two goals in half time as against at least six on previous occasions!

As we waited for the match to resume, Mahadev Singh was seen  giving some pep talk to the team on the sidelines. As if they were regrouping! Would they respond to their captain with a more vigorous and positive play? The public waited, talking in  hushed tones, but with some expectations. The play resumed! The English were again on the offensive, made more forays in our team's area and then scored another goal. It was three-zero in favor of the English team and it looked like the same old story. The time was running out with no hopes of our team scoring at all!

It was barely couple of minutes from the final whistle when all of a sudden, to our amazement, Mahadev Singh broke loose with the ball. He dashed all by himself towards the English half and entered their goal area taking care that he was not judged offside. With a quick body swerve, he deceived the rushing goal keeper with a feint, and bang! He scored with his right foot shooting the ball into the English goal! It was magical, unbelievable that our boys could score a goal, did score a goal against the mighty English. It was full time now and the referee blew the final whistle with the scoreline three-one in favor of the English. But spectators shouted and danced as if we had won the game!

The inevitable prize distribution followed. The King gave away the winners cup to the English captain and the runners up cup to our captain. It was time now to award a special prize to the best player of the game. There was some whispered consultation between the King and the Political Agent. Then rose the Political Agent with a smile on his face to give away the special prize to the best player of the game. It was none other than our teacher, captain of our team, Mahadev Singh!