CHENNAI: Six boys, in the 8-10 age group, from humble backgrounds were playing football in a ground adjacent to an apartment complex. The boys were vying for the run-down black-and-red football that had all the bounce, but not much colour. One of the boys was dribbling while the others used their skills to deflect it. Few used what are considered “forbidden” words, given their age, to convey their frustration at not being able to get to the ball. There were minor exchange of words on the demarcation of the goal post that kept shifting with every argument.
A header once got the ball shooting up so high that it crossed the high-wired fencing that separated the haves of the complex from the have-nots outside. The ball knew no such boundaries, propelled as it was by the momentum and landed on the pathway, briefly interrupting their game. “Akka, akka, please throw it back,” they pleaded with a kind evening walker, who tried her limited volleyball skill to lob it back. Soon, five or six boys from the housing complex stormed the area with their fancy fluorescent jerseys and branded shoes and casually evicted the boys who were in the middle of their game, just when they had finally agreed on a goalpost. This unfair eviction by the boys, who think it is their entitlement, was not even perceived as being insensitive; it was almost like this place was their right.
A little trivia about this ground is necessary to understand the content of this little tale of woe. According to Corporation regulations, a large residential housing complex developer has to earmark a portion of the land for public use, also called Open Space Ratio (OSR). But land sharks often bypass this rule. There are public discourses on encroachment into public land by urban slums, on loop roads by fisherfolk etc. What about encroachment by such sharks into wetlands and designated public spaces? What about encroachment by the privileged into every little space, including the mind space and play space, of the underprivileged?
Coming back to the tale (I promise to keep it short), the evicted group, however, continues to chase the football on the OSR land, but as always, on borrowed time.
They do not really care too much about how long they would be allowed to play; and they quietly leave when the fluorescent jersey boys swarm the turf. A few days back, I took my pet to the same ground for a game of “fetch the ball”. When I saw the group of boys playing, this time it was cricket, I was hesitant to unleash her as it would mean disrupting their game. The boys, though, came running to the dog, a few with some trepidation, and began petting her after asking her name and whether she would bite or bark. When I felt the boys had gotten comfortable with the dog, I checked whether I could unleash her for 10-15 minutes for a quick game and leave.
A young boy, must have been hardly 9 years, looked at me with a smile that lit up his eyes, and said, “Aunty, ithu pothu idam (aunty, this place is common). Please go ahead.” I was overwhelmed. Such wisdom, such magnanimity, such grace. This boy could have been in the group that had been asked so many times to leave the ground. Will the children from privileged background understand and internalise this magnanimity? Or will they take this, too, for granted?
subhashini dinesh