I laughed. I knew I shouldn't have, but I did. To see the school cricket
champion of my batch raped so in public by a mere boy of twelve was too funny.
At least to me. Actually, only to me.
'What?' Ish demanded in disgust.
'Nothing,' I said.
'Where is the fucking ball?'
'They are trying to find it. You want to buy one from my shop, coach?' I jeered
lightly.
'Shut up,' Ish hissed as the ball came rolling back to him.
Ish was about to take a run-up when Ali sat down at his crease.
'What happened?' Omi was the first to reach him. 'I told you. I get a headache.
Can I go back now?' Ali said, his childish voice almost in tears.
Omi looked at Ish and me. I shrugged. 'I told you, no? Freak!' Paras ran up to
us. Ali stood. 'Can I go?'
We nodded. From his pocket, Ali took out some marbles that resembled his
eyes. Rolling them in his hand, he left the ground.
'I cannot believe it,' Ish declared as he finished his fifty morning pushups. He
came and sat next to me on the bank's backyard floor. Omi continued to complete
his hundred.
'Tea,' I announced and handed Ish his cup. My best friend had laced serious
mental trauma yesterday. I couldn't do much apart from making my best cup of
ginger tea in the bank kitchen.
'It can't be just luck, right? No way,' Ish answered his own qestions.
I nodded my head towards a plate of biscuits, which he ignored. I wondered if
the Ali episode would cause permanent damage to Ish's appetite. Ish continued to
talk to himself as I tuned myself out. Omi moved on to sit-ups. He also belted out
Hanuman-ji's forty verses along with the exercise. I loved this little morning break
- between the students' leaving and the shop's opening. It gave me time to think.
And these days I only thought about the new shop. 'Twenty-five thousand rupees
saved already, and fifteen thousand more by December,' 1 mumbled, 'If the
builder accepts forty as deposit, I can secure the Navrangpura lease by year end.'
I poured myself another cup of tea. 'Here are your shop's keys, Mama. We are
moving to our shop in Navrangpura, in the air-conditioned mall,' I repeated my
dream dialogue inside my head for the hundredth time. Three more months, I
assured myself.
'You guys ate all the biscuits?' Omi came to us as he finished his exercise.
'Sorry, tea?' I offered.
Omi shook his head. He opened a polypack of milk and put it to his mouth.
Like me, he didn't have much tea. Caffeine ran in Ish's family veins though. I
remembered Vidya offering me tea. Stupid girl, duh-ing me.
'Still thinking of Ali?' Omi said to Ish, wiping his milk moustache.
'He is amazing, man. I didn't bowl my best, but not so bad either. But he just,
just...,' Words failed Ish.
'Four sixes. Incredible!' Omi said, 'No wonder they call him a freak.'
'Don't know if he is a freak. But he is good,' Ish said.
'These Muslim kids man. You never know what...,' Omi said and gulped the
remainder of his milk.
'Shut up. He is just fucking good. I have never seen anyone play like that. I
want to coach him.'