It was the 12th of February 2010, just few days before the annual sports meet in the school. I was called out to represent the under 18 long jump event from my house. It was after four or five years that I started playing field events again. Haven’t had any practices until then. The fourth jump I made was quite fatal. My leg got twisted and I couldn't walk. So Githmi came all the way to take me up to the class. What hit me that moment was a way to survive the next few hours in school without been in class. I no longer wanted to hear to lessons. I knew for myself, the injury wasn't a “fatal” one, but I wanted it that way just to assure that I will not attend the lessons. I met Githmi in 2006, an awarded scholar to our school (Musaeus College) from Gampaha Bandaranayake College. Quite a “brainiac “with an immense sense of humor. Very articulate and witty I would call her. She always knew better ways of solving little things that would disturb me at times. I use to tease her telling that she should become a “counselor” one day – perhaps something she really didn't like. The beauty in her was that she never got annoyed of me for how much I bullied and teased her. Such an endearment! So this time she was enough intelligent to take me to the sick bay in school. I faintly remember her requesting the nurse at the sick room to take care of me until she would turn back to the sick room before school is over. The bell rang for “gatha” (prayers) .It was time to go home. I was in high spirits. She saved my day and yes, successfully ditched 6 periods, altogether 4 ½ hours!
She was somebody who understood everything behind my smile. She knew it was something hateful to do when I make a kooky smile. She knew that I am into some naughty the moment I give somebody a “meh” look. I remember once a Commerce student making a rampage over a “fun fight” me and Githmi had. She was holding my head tight on to the wall while I squeezed her hands. No wonder that one would have thought that a “murder “was to happen. It was atrocious. We fought like boys. We fought like bosses. They were the moments. We were the last to leave the class. Once the class is empty we use to climb the “Jambu” tree behind our class and enjoy eating them. I remember once missing the school van to go home because of our habitual “Jambu” plucking session. Luckily the school bus gave me a lift to home.
It is literature and music that generated most of our conversations. We were much inspired by Russian Novelists and many a great classics of Will Shakespeare, Khaled Hosseini and Shyam Selvadurai. I just wonder if there was a day that she never thought of me. Whenever I fell onto hospital beds, she was lavish enough to give her notes for me. I was one of those who was reluctant to go to school. Mondays killed me a lot. I would stay home making fictional stories about illnesses, for which my mother dreaded and even wanted me to see a doctor sometimes. She gave me a phone call one night. The next day was the world cup semifinals. She knew about my absence. There was a request. “Machan, can you please come to school tomorrow without complaining about “hora leda” (pretending to be ill) . She went on bragging about an important club meeting to discuss some issues. “The club’s treasurer has misplaced some money ……and the teacher – in – charge is cursing us! “She exclaimed. I was worried hearing that and decided to sacrifice the semifinals for the club’s meeting. But to see the next day there wasn’t any meeting. She had her own ways of hoodwinking and firing me up. She liked teasing and making faces at me when I got on to the stage during school events to sing or to deliver speeches. With much effort I bore them. She knew the art of playing with me.
She is a genuine mate I’ve ever met. Every now and then we talk for hours and laugh so much. Whenever we meet we use to discuss the day to day affairs, sing among each other and even play cricket. We never missed playing cricket even inside the class during free periods, to make a little bit of noises and arouse the teachers.
Who would have ever thought she would be such a ray of light when she looked at me for the very first time. It was eight years back then. I was never scared to be who I was, every time I stood next to her. Her words that once bruised and healed had taken me ahead of a long journey. She claims a part of me for making me unfaltering in life.
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