ATTACHMENTS

‘’ Hey, can I also join you all?’’

A feminine voice was recognized in a small corner of Dakshatra Academy. Well, to be precise, that question arose from the extreme end of the circular infrastructure which was well known as the cricket ground for the students. 'Students for cricket' only defined boys from 3rd to 7th grade. It wasn’t even a proper ground, just a rectangular concrete plane where they played a Desi version of that sport- The Galli Cricket.

 I, being a girl of 10th grade decided to re-define this meaning by joining in to play along with them.

 To be frank, I had always hated cricket. But the craze of IPL had overtaken my thoughts of it completely. In fact, watching the match with millions of frenzied people in a stadium just made me fall in love with the game. The very next day I geared up with my cap and marched to the allotted arena. May be the acceptance of me was only because I was senior to them, if nothing else. Fielding was what I did for over a month with a satisfied response, since I thought observing is the best form of learning. So, after a long resilient wait, " let her bat'’ Ashutosh remarked. It was just a normal thing, but for me it seemed like the biggest opportunity of my life! I held the bat much like a dyslexic guy and stood in front of the stumps, trying to imitate the younger boys I had seen batting. One of them, a kinder one, came over and corrected my stance and showed me how to hold the bat. I gladly followed as instructed and got ready to face the bowler. The first ball came rushing towards my legs. I tried to put the bat in the suitable position, but alas! The ball landed in the hands of the wicket keeper.

  "Aditya, can’t you see? She is a girl, throw an easy ball to her'' kartik shouted from afar.

Now that’s what I hated the most; the unnecessary use of that line. When it is for dance no one said so! When it came for studies, no one ever did, then why now? And what was even more insulting was that it came from the mouth of a 10 year old! Thinking I was stressing on the issue too much, I did what I had came for. The slow and steady ball reappeared and this time, fortunately I was not only able to give it a touch but sliced it as well to the left. I was overjoyed. Of course no one understood that. They didn’t know how I felt. For, they were simply `born` with that skill which I was not; which not every girl was. Never mind. My enthusiasm for cricket grew with every passing day. Sometimes it went with me fielding or sometimes with a chance of batting and on special days with an over with a flood of wide balls.  Not long after I became a part of the 'cricket clan', our school organised DCL- Dakshatra Cricket league having six teams and a girl member per team. I was impressed and shocked at the progress of our school, which for the first time had not ignored the deserted fact that it was a co-ed school.

 Those matches! Ah! How much I crave for those moments to come back! Our team made it to the 4th position with me being the only girl to contribute a solitary run. Nevertheless it personally meant a lot to me Man-of-the-matches were declared with medals and winners awarded the trophies. It was a grand ceremony I must say. My happiness knew no bounds. Very soon a match was organised, exclusively for the girls: Boarders Vs Day-Boarders.  Not to get into the details, it was a fantastic, remarkable, fabulous and an excellent match, not just because it was my dream come true, but for other reasons as well. To start with, my bowling was ridiculous with seven wide balls out of 12. However my batting was MUCH better. In fact I was declared the 'woman of the match’. My smile had never been so genuine and broad, at least not since I had joined the boarding school.  If it were not for the people around, tears of immense happiness would have rolled down my cheeks at a high speed. I was so overwhelmed, more than the words can describe. My diehard dedication for cricket had finally resulted into something bright, it had realised all my efforts so profoundly. Friends came, friends congratulated; enemies came, enemies congratulated. Everyone acknowledged my game and yes, we had won too! Despite playing with boys this was the result. I knew my passion could bring me much more, my capability was beyond this. At 5:00 am, when the sports time began, my tiny friends asked me about the match updates, and I proudly told them my achievements. All I was expecting was a little more of importance and better acceptance on the field of cricket and nothing else after discovering that I do play well. I had faith. I was an idiot. Trespassers would tell me that I shouldn’t waste time like this. They said I should do something with my girlfriends where there was a sense of equality for all. But my mind still attracted to that pain of wanting my young friends to give me a chance. So typical it was, 'cricket is not for girls'. Like those 18th century acts, where girls were helpless. I felt the same. Nevertheless, I would continue to stand in the rectangle daily, seeking to be a part of the team. Of course they didn’t notice nor did they try to understand. My dream wasn’t to become some professional female cricketer to inspire and change the world and stuff like that. It was simple. I wanted to play. I wouldn’t bother to explain because they were small and arrogant.  So, for another slow month I stood like a widow in a spot where even the ball decided not to come. At times I would cry to myself and walk away from the field and vowed never to come again. But I always failed. It sounds so exaggerated and melodramatic! How my little time with cricket made me so awfully attached to it! But that was it.  Soon my desire of cricket was killed by the introduction of the deadly board exams. I had to set priorities right. I had to dedicate more time for studies which I did by cutting down on my play time. Choosing to stand aimlessly over academics would be stupidity.

 So that was the last time I saw the orange bat, yellow plastic stumps, green hard tennis ball and those evil children so close to me. Every time after school they would play and I would watch, they would play and I would only study. They would play and I would cry. For the first time I had felt something so close to me. Not because I really played well (in fact I didn’t) but because it gave my heart a soothing feeling. A season ball hit my chest when I forever bade goodbye to Dakshatra Academy.   Cricket was history. Boards were the past. School days had gone. I had stepped into a new life, back to Mumbai from Nagpur. That was magic. Clubbing was main stream, bunking classes was crazy but the best part was that life was so open. "The world is your playing field", said Ms Briganza, our literature teacher. The whole class yawned. I remember if I would do that in school I would be chucked out of class. But life had changed for the good better. I was a free bird. I had a bunch of like-minded friends, but my favourites were Asad, Ritu and Yash. We'd go for parties, swimming, gyming, movies etc .It was divine. Our college was very lively, with various activities and this time it came up with the most happening thing- something that could conjure fire in my heart and shine in my eyes. A cricket match was organised between the two strongest teams of Maharashtra. I had no second thoughts about it. It was a big yes.  I was sitting in the stadium with my pals cheering loudly while I sat silently having my eyes focused in only one direction. I was so glad to be there, to feel the bug of cricket again. I felt so nostalgic.  Something between me and cricket hadn’t got over yet. It was a sudden break away. It had been over 5 years but it still took me back in my thoughts.   Good times flew. Within no time I was giving the exam for MBBS and even had qualified for it. My parents had to finally agree that I wasn’t useless and had done something in my life and I wasn’t only a spoilt brat like they said when I was 12 years old. That boy within me had died. I wore Salwaar Kameez, doctor’s coat, hair neatly in a bun and face nicely foundationed. My mirror was also not willing to believe that it was me.

 "Buzz" my phone rang. "Hello, Asmita? What’s wrong?" I asked.

 "Mahika, you need to come home fast, my father is having a heart problem...we have called for an ambulance. You also please come. It’s an emergency" Asmita panicked.

 I cut the call and rushed to her house in my silver SUV. It was sad.  Her father was admitted in the hospital because of coronary heart disease that is the blockage of blood vessels due to extra cholesterol in the body. It’s funny how one day you are absolutely fine thinking on what to wear or what to cook and then you are in the ICU! Life twists and turns so fast. It is so unpredictable yet it carries on.

 My life was so ordinary. I had my school days, college memories and now I was going to share my life with someone else. I had hated this day right from time I came to know the meaning of it- marriage. I had seen people cry, complain and curse because of it. Back then, I always thought to remain 10 years old as long as I live! But the ugly truth called for something else. Everything felt like it was on an extra fast mode of a DVD player. I hardly remember learning how to walk, and today it was my wedding! I was too judgemental. My marriage actually gave a definite shape to me. Rohit was just like me. We had so many things in common, plus he was a doctor too. He was a friend to me. What I loved the most about him was that he was a national level cricket player. Every evening we would play cricket. I was reliving my incomplete days, establishing my ties with cricket once again.  The smallest of things leads to the greatest the beauty of life. They seem stupid, idiotic and immature like for instance cricket and me, but they land up being the colour of life. Who would have known that learning how to hold the bat could have shaped my future and turned me into a successful woman. Even though I didn’t achieve anything by whining to play cricket 3 months before my board exams, every morning I still play this game with my 7 year old son and 3 year old daughter.

 They complete my dream.

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