Stories hadn't moved me to an edge for some time now. And then I met my uncle, a very close relative. I surprisingly hadn't heard his complete story till date, although people jibed bits of their own versions.
It was the story of his youth, of fairytale success & crumbling demise of dreams. I knew footballers & musicians who plummeted to glorious fame and spiralled into dark vanquish. But his story was almost my own, of our own family, of my cousins born to him...
I still remember a photo of him in khaki green Army uniform, holding a red headshield right after landing from a helicopter. He looked no less than a protagonist from a romantic english novel, his life no less than fiction, like undulating seawaves.
Since early childhood, studies weren't his expertise. But he was gifted. He played volleyball & was exceptionally phenomenal at it. He played under clubs. People back home in Gorkha, knew him for his game.
He was perhaps eighteen when he entered Kathmandu, stepping in his elder brother's shoes, who was already a government official. Goverment service was prestigious, highly revered and acclaimed. My uncle had similar big dreams. Given his extraordinary skills, he was offered an army position. He enrolled in sports quota. He had only two hours of service per day
Unlike fellow cadres, he was exempted of arduous army rountine. Other cadres were vexed of the liberty he was granted.
In his glory days, he never lost a game. And that picture of khaki dress with red headshield was taken in one such sunny day....
He was paid very well both by the army and his club. People knew him. No one forgot his name after watching his game. He had the same name as our late King. And he played like one.
Times were promising. And someone advised him to join a bank job. Those days, government and bank jobs were prized. He initially declined but since his army trainings were only two hours a day, he had abundant time for a fulltime job. Little did he know, that it was the herald of an ominous downfall...
He was juggling two jobs, and still playing well when he met another player Hari. Hari was a big bull from Kathmandu valley and reigned volleyball arena of Patan.
He met his nemesis.
Their egoes wrestled, both claiming the title over some verbal spat. The challenge was very serious for both. One afternoon, they confronted each other in a volleyball match.
Like every other time, my uncle won!!
But that defeat stirred fire in Hari's soul. His ego collapsed and he seeked revenge. As they say, you need only one matchstick to set an entire stockpile of straw on fire. Hari was a snowball of venegeance...
He found about my uncle's jobs through some dissatisfied fellow cadres in the army. Someone filed a complaint that he was working two jobs. My uncle didn't know he could be punished for taking dual jobs simultaneously. His knightly castle of armors, badges, stars and brooches suddenly fell apart. He lost both jobs, was fined heavily and even threatened to be jailed. He couldn't play from his club... One angry defeated volleyballer ruined his reputation as well as life.
After some time, army offered his position back as a sportsman. But his sportsmanship spirit was trampled. He was terrified. He succumbed to the illfated twist of time. Too many things changed. Only he can narrate the hailstorm of emotional rollercoster he experienced.
Days months and years passed in unemployment. He found solace in alcohol. His wife and children suffered heavily with and because of him. Children missed schools due to unpaid dues, wife worked through odd jobs to make ends meet and he lost his identity even in front of his family.
If only he had lost that one game. If only Hari had won. Even Hari perhaps wasn't aware that an act of wrath would devastate many lives. It wasn't my uncle's fault. He was extraordinarily blessed, but with a different fate.....
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So much respect for this man who would've otherwise represented Nepal in International platform. He would've been an Army Major now... and his talented kids would have had a different life!
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