Javelin, gold and memory

While studying in primary school, we had a passion: throwing sticks at targets. Our experience in handling javelin or javelin-like objects helped us to win more friends from different schools. Those were the days, nearly five decades ago in Chickmagaluru, a sleepy town then. The slopes of Ratnagiri Bore, particularly the western and southern side, was our arena. Come rain or shine, we experimented in the evenings and on holidays with our weapons. For us, there was no difference between javelin and spear. We drew inspiration from Amar Chitra Kathe (ACK) where heroes carried javelins, spears, swords, bows and arrows.

We made our own javelins in all sizes, using bamboos at the nearby cemetery and branches in the trees nearby. We trained ourselves in the art of throwing them, falling many times bruising our legs and hands.

Our javelins were crude, but they were capable of causing wounds. One evening when a friend threw a javelin, it touched someone's forehead and fell on the ground like a paper rocket. A neighbour who was on his cycle who saw us rushed back home and recreated the scene.

Immediately, a group consisting of Akkas and Annas from the neighbourhood rushed to the spot at the speed of a rocket. That evening, elders decided: No more javelins, no more Ratnagiri Bore slopes, not even bamboo sticks in the cemeteries. Only reading and writing.

In the 1970s, we were taken to the iconic Nehru Maidan near our school in Mangaluru, for an inter-school sports meet. A large number of spectators were also present in the maidan to watch sports activities. We, students from the same school stood on one side cheering and clapping.

There were many sports materials lying on the ground, such as batons, shots and hammers. Suddenly my attention was drawn towards a javelin with a shining pointed arrow fixed with the help of a thread. I tucked my notebooks in between my stomach and shirt and picked the javelin in my right hand. I aimed it to a Hercules cycle, which balanced on the right side of its owner, a student.

The javelin flew like a missile and touched the rear tyre of the cycle. I heard a hissing noise, of air coming out from the tyre. The next moment, I escaped and ran away. I could hear voices from behind in Tulu and Konkani. I went past the Railway quarters cutting across Rail tracks meandering through the coconut farms and finally reached home at Jeppu.

The next day I did not venture out, pretending to be sick with a headache. Later I came to know that the boy whose cycle's tyre I had dented was from my school. After this, we became close friends.

All these came to my mind the other day while watching Neeraj Chopra who secured gold by his marvellous throw of the javelin, as I joined millions of Indians who stood for the musical tune of our national anthem.