You are never away from the game


By The Penarchist

A terrific in-swinging yorker ripped the middle stump off!

A 15-year old with bushy hair danced through the 22 yards being amazed at his own delivery. He wasn’t a big match player or a professional. It was out of pure love and dedication that he played this game. Every week he made it sure to find gaps between tuitions to play the game he loved. Full hand or short hand didn’t matter to him.

With equal ease he could nudge a top spinner to a nearby wall at “one drop”(as direct hit was out) and place an out-swinger past the point fielder to the ropes. It wasn’t that he neglected his studies and played all day, he was pretty decent at his studies too!

Everyone in his locality were accustomed to the sight of a boy dashing past main road with a bat in his hand whilst wearing his school uniform(as he didn’t get time to change his clothes). All the recent matches and proceedings were absolutely committed to his memory. He was like any other Indian kid, foolish enough to dream of playing in the Indian cricket team. Every time when any one senior to him jeered at him for being so naive, he used to console himself that his ambition was concrete and he wouldn’t let it go at any cost. The Little innocent guy would practice in front of the TV set and would watch the practice sessions at a nearby ground in awe.

If only he could be there!

There was this underlying desire in him to join the coaching classes and perfect his techniques. But this is India, and these kinds of options are deemed as immature choices, so curtains were drawn on his dreams of going to the holy coaching centres and master those slower balls!

Nothing could dampen his spirits, he continued to play with the same love that he had previously and enjoyed what he did. But deep down the lines, he felt that something was missing from somewhere, something wasn’t complete…

Slowly but steadily he came to know that the kid in him was actually foolish. He was foolish enough to change the world, as he didn’t know so much about the so called “harsh realities of life” But, the Steve Jobs in him died as he grew up to be a sensible person dealing only in academics.

Ten years later

Another terrific in-swinging yorker ripped the middle stump off! A stout 25-year old with bushy hair danced through the 22 yards being amazed at his own delivery. He was a big match player and a professional. The whole stadium rose to their feet to acknowledge the bowler’s efforts,

So did our guy, a bespectacled, burly man with his son on his shoulders and wife beside him screamed at the top of his voice!

Sometimes when he sits at his posh office chamber and looks on and green meadows brightened by the sunlight, that stout and enthusiastic teenager comes to his mind, he sees him running about in field, warming up for his next delivery, maybe in that world he had made it to the national team!

Who knows!

That makes him wanna play again.