The traffic lights just turned to amber as I approached the stop line. As a law abiding citizen should I stop or go?!! "To be or not be"?!! After musing briefly for a couple of seconds, I concluded that I should stop. This happens with me many times, especially when I am scheduled to be at a place at a specific time and am running late. In fact, I was late for my very first inter-university boxing match which was one of the most crucial nights in the history of my life. I can never forget how my coach bellowed at me as he hit me on the head in front of the entire squad! Yes, I am late most of the times and I don't regret it, not anymore. I've gotten used to the feeling.
My music system played the song "Kings never die" by Eminem which boomed and resonated within my car as I waited in the traffic trapped at the junction. The signal displayed 300 seconds for the lights to turn green. I looked out through the window into an evening that was lit up with the colorful lights of nearby shops. The road was congested. On the pavement, I saw a mother spank her little boy for not wearing his jerkin. He protested a bit but with convincing hand of yet another spank he put it on hesitantly.
My music system played the song "Kings never die" by Eminem which boomed and resonated within my car as I waited in the traffic trapped at the junction. The signal displayed 300 seconds for the lights to turn green. I looked out through the window into an evening that was lit up with the colorful lights of nearby shops. The road was congested. On the pavement, I saw a mother spank her little boy for not wearing his jerkin. He protested a bit but with convincing hand of yet another spank he put it on hesitantly.
I was already able to visualize Avishka de Silva at the Madison boxing hall, sitting on the dais along with the promoters and his manager, with a row of microphones lined up before him and a swarm of journalists all fired up and ready to raise all sorts of questions about the re-match. The thought of his name alone made my blood boil. A deep sense of repugnance filled my heart. The look in his eyes when they announced him to be the winner made me hate him all the more. I could not somehow convince myself to look at this particular match as just a sport. The hatred between the Sri Lankan government and us the Tamilians has been ever growing since the war. After witnessing the ruthless genocides, atrocities and the humiliation inflicted upon the Sri Lankan Tamils, by the Sinhalese government, anyone would agree that nothing could remain the same between us anymore.
I remembered our last fight, how in spite of Gurumann's repeated warning I went at him like a bull that was released from "vaadivasal" and annihilated him with my blows. The beast that was silently lurking in the depths of the abyss of my heart had somehow broken all the shackles and surfaced that evening. Unfortunately, in spite of everything I delivered, Avishka managed to seize the title from me that night with his cheap moves. During the fifth round, I was going all out on him with consecutive punches. He very slyly moved near one of the poles and dodged one of my punches which made my hand ram straight into the pole! The demonic velocity with which i intended to punch him resulted in me almost fracturing my right wrist. It was so swollen that my hand had gone numb yet I had to continue fighting the bastard with just one hand for the next 5 rounds. I pondered, if it had always been this way when it came to the fights between us. The Sinhalese weren't ashamed to use unethical moves.
"You are lucky in a way" Gurumann consoled me after the fight. "Looking at your aggression, I thought you were going to murder him and end your boxing career" They can only cancel my boxing license and impose a huge penalty. A trial for murder was out of the question, as the terms of the agreement made it clear that if death ensues while inside the ring that no legal proceedings would be entertained.Gurumann Singh is my coach. He has been with me for the past 7 years of my fighting career. He is of an average height, muscular, has a dense beard and looks quite young for a 50 year old guy.
I remembered our last fight, how in spite of Gurumann's repeated warning I went at him like a bull that was released from "vaadivasal" and annihilated him with my blows. The beast that was silently lurking in the depths of the abyss of my heart had somehow broken all the shackles and surfaced that evening. Unfortunately, in spite of everything I delivered, Avishka managed to seize the title from me that night with his cheap moves. During the fifth round, I was going all out on him with consecutive punches. He very slyly moved near one of the poles and dodged one of my punches which made my hand ram straight into the pole! The demonic velocity with which i intended to punch him resulted in me almost fracturing my right wrist. It was so swollen that my hand had gone numb yet I had to continue fighting the bastard with just one hand for the next 5 rounds. I pondered, if it had always been this way when it came to the fights between us. The Sinhalese weren't ashamed to use unethical moves.
"You are lucky in a way" Gurumann consoled me after the fight. "Looking at your aggression, I thought you were going to murder him and end your boxing career" They can only cancel my boxing license and impose a huge penalty. A trial for murder was out of the question, as the terms of the agreement made it clear that if death ensues while inside the ring that no legal proceedings would be entertained.Gurumann Singh is my coach. He has been with me for the past 7 years of my fighting career. He is of an average height, muscular, has a dense beard and looks quite young for a 50 year old guy.
As I thought about everything I clenched the wheel of my Audi car in sense of frustration. My cell phone buzzed. It was Gurumann, it was late, no wonder he called. The traffic lights turned green, so I didn't bother to pick up his call as I was driving straight to the Madison boxing hall for the press conference to see my adversary once again.
- To be continued
300 second story ends and get ready for next adversary like jallikatti.....Mr.Ess Good job. this story doesn't mean boxing alone, it relate to our day to day life, Jobs everything... keep writing
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