Over confidence kills

As a 7^th grader, playing carom was addictive of all the games. With the meeting of my boyhood mate, it became more addictive than nicotine. As soon as we hear the last toll of the bell, we would excitedly rush towards the market side.

Frequenting town became our pass time after we came to know that carom was our common interest. The chemistry of our friendship grew ever stronger thereafter.

Quite astonishingly, when I was just picking up the fundamentals of the game he was already the kid of the town. With him, i honed my skill and soon my name was on the list of becoming new kid in the town. Unfortunately it did not happen. He coached me and two of us formed a good team. From kid of the town, soon we became talk of the town.

source: google

Every one, grown-ups or elders, hesitated to challenge us. Many times we won the match in just three rounds of play. Sometimes the game would get over with one of the opponent not even touching the striker. Such was our level.

Empty pocket we would play. Pocket full we went home after the match. There was no doubt that if two of us team together, many turned up reluctant to play. On most of the occasions we were only permitted to coach and not compete.

Can’t resisting the itch to push the striker, we would play by offering points not more than twenty. The game being over at thirty. Still it was herculean task to overthrow us.

Even in interclass competitions, we emerged as winners. Some envied our partnership and tried several lucks only to get thrashed and thicken our pocket.

But there was one thing many friends wanted to witness. It was the match between the two carom giants.

We played and the match tied several times but he earned the maximum admiration from rest of our friends.

One time our over confidence mortified us before the mass.

My tag came penniless. I was penniless either and joined the league. The thought of winning overwhelmed us as usual. We played casual, conceitedly offering points. Not until our counterparts took away two consecutive boards, did we realise that the game wasnt ours. I fumbled my jean pocket only to find emptiness inside and facing from the other end was my friend standing motionless. Nervous we both stood.

Having nothing to give and knowing not what to do out of embarrassment, we planned on escape when they were busy celebrating the victory.

Hardly had we finished crossing the rusted barb wire than the voice clamored from behind. “Charo charo....bet kalay” (friends, where is our bet)

I stared at his face and he stared mine, froze and blushed, in between the age old cold wires and uttered stammered speech………….we will give….give…you. Later, he managed to manipulate and promised to pay afterwards.

That day, the two kids of the town to whom all extolled champion of carom, learnt a lesson that too much of confidence is good for nothing.

The same incident took place last autumn.

Our school dispatcher compelled me to challenge him carom. Upon my several supplication, he would not listen. We fixed the date and bet.

He was taken to surprise when I outdid him for two continuous rounds and like me, discovered a lesson to not underestimate the power of common man.