It's a six!

I still see myself whining in the car, with May by my side. There was a big dance festive held in our area, the most colourful: Me and May, Mom and Dad were watching from the very back of the crowd in the vast tarred parking lot, because my father always wanted to leave quickly. Even at soccer games, we parked by the exit and left towards the end. Me and May, with our predictable whines, would repeatedly argue. We never get to see the end. 

But this time, when all flashes in front of my eyes, it is hard to believe. Hard to believe when the first time I am not given a chance to leave. The whole stadium reverberating joy with tensed faces. I get the full scope of the event: White and black faces holding flags, leaning collectively from one foot to another; continuous camera clicks, the blooming words -win, faith, champion, six - rolling over me, soldiers on the battlefield of consumerism and then I see her, sitting in the first row of the cricket pavilion. 

She has blonde hair and a spray of freckle around her nose, just like our mother. I doubt her name comes from her birthday - 18 May. She is the type of person who sits quietly on the last bench of the room, but with whom you wouldn’t dare to pick a fight. She would be at her best behaviour in front of grandma but again, you will find her inebriated in the best bar in the city. I am still trying to roll with her unpredictability. 

“Why is it always like this?” A conversation we had six months ago. It would always start with this question. A glass of red vine in her hand and the words would fall out; just like that. But it hadn’t been a big deal like this before and I hadn’t found myself so befuddled. 

“I don’t know!” I said with a hint of frustration, my bones brittle. A tough six-pack body, but I was just as delicate inside. An overthinker who would spend his nights fed upon by his thoughts. 

“Just trust your heart,” May replied.

“It is easy to say.” 

She gently pats the small of my back. Again unpredictable. “You need to learn to let go of things. Life doesn’t give you everything but you do get to choose.” 

I wish I had never met Aastha. But where would I have gone without her? 

Aastha was an Indian girl. Brought up in Australia. I sometimes sit by the window and laugh to myself. The day we met was an error pick straight from a three-star movie. We bumped into each other on the first day of university. I had accidentally spilt coffee on her new white shirt. It turned out, she was going to a very important job interview. She didn’t get the job. I had tried to apologize to her but it just wouldn’t work! The little mistake took shape of revenge spate. Bubble gums on my pants, pouring milk on her hair, stealing my books…

Love comes in places you don’t look for. And there it was, I couldn’t get her off my head. 

“But what about Mom?” I finally ask. 

“Do you love Aastha?”

“Absolutely” 

“Then don’t think about what mom would say. She’ll settle.” 

I don’t get my sister. Like at all! How can she be so smooth about everything? I am supposed to put my blood first. Marry a girl my mom approves. After all, she has sacrificed so much for me. But there is a feeling telling me to choose Aastha. I find myself running in circles again.

That evening, I broke up with Aastha. There were sobs and screams but my mom looked as if she had just won the biggest battle. 

All pairs of eyes are set on me. I am the last player. Either I hit and win or bring down my whole team. 

Current score: 244

Runs to win: 06

Balls: 01

I grip the bat handle like a treasure. Just a perfect hit. You can do this. I keep reminding myself. Cameras zoom on me. The lights blinding. 

It is not the first time. 

But the last one, I forbid to remember. They were the dark days that brought storms to leave me in ruins. 

Four months ago, our team had a match with new Zealand. I was there on the field with a bat in my hand. Suddenly, A man runs towards me putting the whole game to a halt. It was not something that happens often in cricket. He whispered something in my ear. 

Everyone in the crowd stood up. The eyeballs popped out of their cases as I ran across the stadium in pure bewilderment. Piercing sirens dominated the air as soon as I stepped out of the stadium area. Guards dressed in black tried to follow me but all I could see was an ambulance waiting for me. I found May crying beside her. 

She had an oxygen mask fit to her face, her chest going up and down in desperation. I sat down beside the lady and tightly held her hand. By now, salted water dripped down my face, my nose red and runny. 

My eyes met with May’s. “Nothing is going to happen to mom,” I say, my voice weak at the roots as if I was rather trying to convince myself. 

At the very cue, her chest dropped to the minimal, her eyes closed. Forever. 

It took a couple of months after burying her body that I could pluck up the courage to meet Aastha. Her house was locked and upon asking the neighbours, she had shifted to another house nearby. I was lucky enough to get her address. 

I stood in front of her new house, soaked in sweat beads, with a bouquet in my hands. I couldn’t think of anything better. A man opened the door. 

He was her husband. Newlywed. 

Dumbfounded, I ran away. I ran away like a freak tangling my life to an even bigger mess. I stood for nothing. All I had was gone. Life did give me choices but rather than making the sandcastle of the clay, I created lumps. May consoles me by saying that she was never right for me because if she had truly loved me, she wouldn’t marry another man so quickly. But the regret would never go away. 

The cheerings brought me back. Time slowed itself. The baller’s arm motioned into a full circle as the ball paced towards me. It was a yorker. The hardest one to hit a six with. I had seconds to think. My grip even tighter. 

The cheers fade. The world blurs.

 I see Mom and Aastha arguing over me. Mom throws a vase on the ground in frustration. Screams echo around. 

Mom had been suffocating in pain and I couldn’t do anything. She died in front of me. 

Aastha’s married. Her husband opened the door.

I close my eyes, a single face in my mind. As I hear the ball bounce in front of me, I raise my bat. My intuitions guide me. A feeling churns inside my gut and I swing the bat. The vibrations of the bat slapping the ball, flow through me. 

I open my eyes to see the little sphere flying across the sky.

It’s a six!