wondered if they had basketball courts in London. I was pretty sure
they did. I wondered if she still played. And If she did, did she think
of me?
‘Shoot, bhaiya,’ Parth said.
I threw the ball. It not only missed the basket, but also the entire
frame. My laziest and worst shot ever.
Parth looked at me, shocked.
‘What level did you play, bhaiya?’ Parth said. His hopes of joining
Stephen’s went up. If someone as sloppy as me could get in through
sports quota, so could he.
I smiled at him, I ran across to pick the ball. I took a shot. I missed
again. I passed the ball back to Parth, ‘I guess I’m not much of a
player anymore,’ 1 said.
‘Should I call my other friends? We can play a game,’
I shook my head.
'I'll just bring down your level,' l said and left the court.
- ‘Why has the MLA called us? This can't be good,’ my mother said.
‘Let's find out. Why are you getting so stressed?’
My mother and I walked from our house to MLA Ojha's residence,
‘Useless fellow,’ Ma said.
‘Shh, we’re here,’ I said as we entered the compound of Ojha’s
bungalow.
A freshly shaved Ojha in a sparkling white kurta-pajama received
us with folded hands.
‘What an honour, Rani Sahiba,’ he said, beaming.
‘You ordered us to come. What choice do we have, Ojha ji?’ my
mother said.
’It was a humble request, Rani Sahiba,’ Ojha said. We followed
him to his huge living room and took our seats on red velvet solas
with huge gold embroidered flowers. His dutiful wife, her head
covered, arrived with a tray of water and juice, My mother took the