Thrilling Hockey Match I am entirely relying on my memory to narrate this hilarious incident of my teen-age. It was probably November 1961, I was passing through an enormous social change, and every day in college campus was exciting and thrilling for innate feelings were overwhelmed with newly acquired “Azadi”. Going from Government High School to Government College was a gigantic leap in terms of higher pedestal of maturity, self esteem, pride of wearing green blazer with the college crest on it, riding a brand new bicycle equipped with full accessories, availability of better financial resources, absolutely no chance of corporal punishment that was a regular practice in the school, complete liberty from dreadfulness of studying Mathematics, perpetual feelings of content that unlike the High School College is not a walk-in place for the family members, better surroundings – passing through the civil-lines of Sargodha twice a day and observing the immaculately dressed-up lecturers of College and learning by observation to be at a respectable distance behind the bicycle of the Lecturers. Observing the Professors wearing silky-black academic gown at the commencement of winter was an eye-catching site that I would not forget in my life. To me, it looked like a ceremonial festivity in the College corridors, library and classrooms. The same old faces with the same personalities looked exceptional, diverse and of course elegant. These creatures were completely different than my teachers at school for the Professors were more dignified, responsive, polite, mostly smiling, attractive even as a stranger, spoke in a softer voice, polished tone and with a cultured pronunciation. They maintained their respective individuality and grace vigilantly while affectionately mixing up with their student with a respectable distance. I was trying to learn fast and ‘adjust’ to the environment and atmosphere of my College while surprises were waiting for me almost everyday. I did my best to maintain my posture. It was at that point in time I learnt that “information is power”. Some of my colleagues were somehow always well-informed of all the activities going on in the College, personal knowledge about the teachers and crispy-gossip. These information-holders would sit for hours in College Canteen, amplify the significance of that information and only then disclose pieces of information that was their precious passion. One day I was almost taken aback when I was told in a very firm tone by a senior that there will be no classes tomorrow for we are all going to Mianwali under the leadership of our Principal Prof. Khan Abdul Ali Khan. All students shall go – no exception. I received this news amid such season when rumors were more common. By noon time it was confirmed that tomorrow, the entire college will be going to Government College Mianwali to watch the hokey match between the two colleges. It was a challenge match. Both colleges had superb teams. Our honorable Principal Ali Khan had been Principal of Mianwali College a few years back. Next day at 7:00 a.m. about ten buses were parked in the College from the main gate till the end of official residences of the staff for transportation of students and the staff. The rules of business for this hilarious adventure were “Alikhanonian”. One Professor was responsible for one bus and the students in this bus. Professor Mohammad Nawaz Malik of English (later PSP office and Inspector General of Police Sindh) was custodian of our bus. The Principal was very vigilant of this caravan and hock-eyed each coach many times similar to a professional Div-commander. We reached Government College Mianwali well in time and the predetermined math was played between the two teams. My College-mates were all set for a blow-up hooting, shouting, slogans, uproar and support of our team. Demonstration of our College-mate on two sides of the hockey-field was phenomenal. The prominent students of our college lived up to the expectations but lady luck was not with us. We lost the match. It takes a lot of moral and physical courage to pocket an insult or humiliation. (In 1961 we could not distinguish between insult and humiliation) Dictated by disciplinarian supervisors, most of us were with pulled faces till we reached Khushab and relaxed for a while. It took me years to understand and many more to grasp this thought that “sportsman spirit” is something important in life. Even today I am not certain that my inner soul fully appreciates that. It takes times to normalize myself when we loose a cricket match with India. Nothing succeeds like success. On our way back home I was unbelievably impressed with the normal and pleasant behavior of our Principal and the academic staff. Were they pretending? Or they had pleasantly accepted that fait accompli! I dearly adore my teachers at GOVERNMENT COLLEGE SARGODHA 1961-65
Posted on: Tue, 04 Mar 2014 10:26:28 +0000
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