A boy and a ball

A poem by Achuthan Panikath

Sun Aug 30 2026

‘Sic Parvis Magna’, his tattoo read.
In days of limitless ambition, we found a moment
Four of us in a room outcompeting the campus geese in silliness,
To not rest until the ball lived a hundred headers.
We never crossed twenty in this Sisyphean task,
But there was a wonder that has not visited since
In lesser tries of more pressing acts.
‘If I drop this ball, I will lose my hundred in Math.’
I must keep this up; there’s far too much at stake:
A reputation built on self-ordained impossibilities,
Reeking of superstition; that middle-class desperation
To be seen as anything but mediocre,
In the angst of being told, ‘I’ve seen the likes of you.’
I must bounce this ball off that wall
And never let it drop.
‘Catch it,’ ring the other 10 voices, and I duck.
A sharp fielder at point as my claim to team,
This was all I had to bring: to dive for the improbable,
To give up my body for the sake of glory.
This missed catch was our chance to defer
The embarrassment of a 9-wicket loss to an 8.
But in that fraction of a blink, I ceased to pretend
To be the selfless act I’ve long strived to be;
I became the timid lad who just wanted to belong.
‘Let him take his farewell goal.’
As I looked at the top left bin where I’ve placed
This very ball a thousand times before,
He wasn’t to stop me, but it wasn’t about him.
It’s my story and my time to leave
The home in this capitol, to chase after love.
I step up, sigh, and place it perfectly
Straight into the arms of the grinning man.
It wasn’t about him; he wasn’t to stop me.
It’s my story and I had forgotten the plot.
I do not wish to compete; I never have.
I was happier playing than winning the game.
The same ball that saved me from this breathless race
Somehow came back to measure my worth.
In made-up games of marbles and clippers,
In tennis-ball football on a waterlogged field,
In solo cricket, with a book and pen,
In the rhythm of that pink ball thrown and caught,
I had learned to smile, to breathe, to speak,
To vent and believe; to dream and cherish.
For the rest of these days, I choose to play
I’m just a boy tossing his ball.