Footballer Tohura Khatun recalls late friend

When I score a goal I feel a shock in my heart. Someone might have called me and said, “Tohura, see. You can do it.”

I wipe my eyes. Some think it is sweat, others think it is tears of joy. But, I know that single drop of water is a silent cry because, after scoring each goal, I look for a face – Sabina Yesmin.

Sabina was my childhood friend. The small field in our village of Koloshindur in Dobaura, Mymensingh — the pondside, the tree branches — these were where we used to play.

Sabina, Shamsunnahar, and I often went to school together and walked back home together tooIt is 10-12 minute walk between our homes. I often picked her from her home, as well as returned together.

Sabina was a year senior to me in Kolsindur School. So sometimes I addressed her as ‘apni’, and other times as tumi. Our relation was built upon respect and love.

Sabina had a fever on 24 September 2017. At that time, we were returning home after playing in the AFC U-16 Championship in Thailand. Sabina was also in the primary section of Bangladesh team. She went to village home on leave on 18 September. I also went home after playing in Thailand.

She was scheduled to return to her camp in the Bangladesh Football Federation (BFF) House in Dhaka on 27 September. We were also scheduled to return the camp. Two days before that, she came to my house with a fever on an evening. I brought her home on the back of my bicycle, somewhat forcefully. She slept at our home that night. The next morning, she said she was not feeling well.

That day, my grandfather also became ill. So we would visit the grandfather’s house. I told Sabina that you come with us. She refused. I requested her a lot. She did not agree. I felt hurt. She could not eat, so I fed her with my own hands. That was the first time I fed her. That was also last time of my life.

I dropped her home on my bicycle. Then I went to my grandfather’s house. The next day, she called me many times. I did not pick up—as I was hurt. Why did she not come with me to my grandfather’s house?

When I finally answered, she said, “Tohura, I am feeling really sick.”

I told her, “Go see a doctor.”

Her mother took her to the doctor.

On their way back, I waved at her from a distance. I asked, “What would you like to eat?”

Her mother said she wanted amra (hog plums).

But I could not find any amra. There were only two left at the shop, and someone else had already bought them. I got her something else instead. Then I took her and her mother to the doctor again.

We were supposed to go to camp the next day. I thought everything would be fine. But on the afternoon of 26 September, Sabina left the world on the way to the Dobaura Upazila Health Complex.

I felt like giving up football. What is the point of playing when my dearest companion is not there? But her face, those two eyes, kept flashing in my mind. I thought, if Sabina were alive, she would have kept playing. So even for my friend’s sake, I had to keep playing.

Since then, I have been playing for her. I have scored over 50 goals in the age group national teams and around 15 in the national team. After every goal, I imagine had Sabina been here she would have said, “Tohura, that was a wonderful goal!”

And I might have looked at her and said with a smile, “Should I score another one?”

Even now, when I talk about her, my eyes fill with tears. It feels like Sabina still whispers from within me, “Tohura, keep going forward!”

Her mother still calls me. We talk regularly. Even after coming to Bhutan to play, I stayed in touch with Sabina’s family. I have always stood by them. My mother still tells stories about Sabina.

Even today, I sometimes wake up in the middle of the night and see her face. After she suddenly passed away from fever, I did not go anywhere for a whole month. I cried silently inside my room, as if a vast emptiness had engulfed me.

Sabina is gone, yet she is still here. Be well, Sabina—that is my only prayer.