It is the last day of November. There is a crispy chill in the air. The sun is not yet up but the luminance is just right for tee-off. A chirpy school of little kids that were skipping and hopping about gather around, watching mukh-khola, as I set myself for the drive. I looked at them and put my finger to my lips. They instinctively obeyed my directions with their fingers to their lips. “No school?”, I asked them. “Exams over!”, they exclaimed in unison. “Go for picnic”, I told them and they responded with relaxed laughter after that.
I managed to cross the nala (drain) about 200 yards ahead, but it was a poor shot. I had sliced it and the ball had faded to the right but there was “WOW!” all around. “What’s your name?”, I asked the tallest one as I fondled the pompom of her woollen topee. ”Erika”, she said with a wide grin. “Nice name”. “Bye uncle”, they said one by one as I sauntered down the fairway.
Children are happiest after exams are over and when the holidays are on. ‘As happy as a school-kid after final-exams’- I must remember to use that simile next time. I never had the heart to shoo them away and to tell them to keep off the course.
Shillong golf course is a funny golf course. It has a natural fairway and it has a civilisation of its own. Goatherds and their goats are an everywhere sight; early morning exercisers, joggers, yoga yogis in deep meditation, footballers, jawans in their morning drill and all kinds of people taking a shortcut through…as the day wears on, you have college kids lolling about, a choir group having a practice session, just young people apparently stealing time to enjoy each other’s company, tourists taking in the scenic beauty and families having a picnic in a shade. Among all these you might sight a golfer and his caddie shouting “BALLLL!” for “FORE!”
I birdied the next hole. It was a long second-ball chip to the pin. Flukes are counted, and that felt good.
As usual, at the edge of the 13th green, I came upon the woman and her skinny, sick-looking husband. Like every other morning, the husband, as he noticed me, turned around erect and saluted me with a “good morning sir”. I waved a salute as usual and he as usual seemed quite proud of himself in being able to accomplish the feat that he just did.
Every time, I would see his wife demonstrating, with great devotion, a PT move to him and he would then follow the movement with deliberate effort. It was evident that he was on the road to rehabilitation from some debilitating sickness. Judging from the wife, he must be in his younger middle-age and not the decrepit old man that he rather looked like. As I moved on, I declared, aapka biwi bahut achcha hai, itna achcha se aapka dekh-bhaal karta hai. With a silly-grin he mumbled something, and his wife turned about with her red bindi on her front hairline and an embarrassed half-smile.
As I was packing up after the 18th, there were two grubby little urchins observing me closely with curious inspection. They obviously didn’t know what school was or at least not as yet. I smudged on a plasticine smile and glared at one of them. He shyly fidgeted, and turning one leg about the other knee twisted his little torso and looked up with an impish scrubby face. I kept glaring at him with a determined smile until he finally yielded a half bewildered smile and ran off. Hey! I wanted to tell him that later in the day I was to have a very important video conference with the Member of the CBEC on the very important matter of GST and nation-building for him and his friends!
(Contributed by W L Hangshing, Chief Commercial GST and Customs, NE Region)
