‘Kleen” Bowled…

“Team India – The World Champions after twenty eight years” Ravi Shastri shrieked on the mike, as the Wankhede erupted in to ovation and roaring, it was difficult even to hear ever ‘loud’ Ravi Shastri that to on the Loudspeaker. I was still feeling it was some dream, everyone one of us feeling the same because it indeed was a dream come true. The sea of Blue was waving through the jam packed Wankhede to cheer for the Man in Blue and we didn’t thwarted their hopes at all.

“What a game of cricket we have witnessed, it had all deserving of a world cup final. But in the end, it’s the hosts who held their nerves to lift the world cup after twenty eight years.” Ravi Shastri was as vivacious as any time before, the crowd was going crazy from being mad, loud music was being played on the speakers, drums were beaten to the death, trumpets were yelled, everything seemed so loud that moment, but neither of us minded it, coz whenever your mind is excited and full of joy you don’t think the loudest to be loud on the contrary when you are down even smallest of the reverberation sounds exasperatingly loud.

“May I please ask, Abhay Rajput the Indian Captain to have a few words with me?” Ravi announced as I was lost into my thoughts, Sachin paa gave me a pack at the back, Sanu and Yuvi were busy playing pranks with other team mates as I hastily walked to the dais, stood in front of Ravi wearing a light blue Blazer and nice smile on his face.

“So, how does it exactly feel Abby?”  I stood looking at the crowd and team mates for a second or two, excitement was eating out the words in me, I felt my throat was dried up.

“I think answer lies on the face of every Indian right now, boys put in the great effort, good to see such a big reward for it.  Congratulations to the Sri Lankan team, they played wonderful cricket throughout the tournament. I definitely would like to dedicate this trophy to the One Billion Indians who prayed for us every ball, every minute, thank you India for your wonderful support, love you all.” Crowd erupted in a roar as I completed my speech, I was very much happy to finish it in fluent English; it wasn’t a small task, at least for a fifth standard school dropout.

 

And the moment came, that we lived for, as I lifted the world-cup teammates came up running with adolescent energy, shining fireworks cracked around, confetti were showered around us, champagne was poured, hundreds of cameras flashed at a go and the moment was gelled into our minds ‘forever’. We took the victory lap over the Wankhede with the World-Cup trophy; I was running with the Tri-Color on my shoulders, tears on my cheeks had almost dried. As I was jogging on the lush green outfield, I saw a figure of about 5’5’’ “tall” jogging besides me(yes, I am aphorizing him to be “tall” coz he is the tallest and unapproachable person in terms of the stature he has achieved in the game yet modest and down to earth in his personal life), Sachin paa was busy gesticulating his home crowd, I saw a childlike thrill on his face, this game captivated him even after two decades into it, even a few tear drops were shinning hidden in a dimple on his left cheek, his hair were flaying in the thrill as well. It was his dream come true, only thing left to achieve in his wonderful cricketing career spanning over two decades was the world cup victory; only before today though.  Our eyes matched, I don’t know what struck my mind I took Tri-Color from my Shoulder and handed it over to him. We both smiled; the smile gave the impression of being similar to me; it was a very satisfying smile.

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It was a very long night for all of us; we partied harder then we performed on the field.  The next day was full of interviews and media. In the late afternoon, I finally got some time to check in the hotel room and sneak a little nap in between. My room-mate, Sanu – Suresh Raina, Left – handed flamboyant middle order batsman was on the television, watching the special bulletin on Indian victory.

“You are still into it, please bring down the volume, I need some sleep.” I lazily said

“Okay Boss.” He said taking over the remote control.

I tried to sleep but couldn’t, my mind was occupied with the question of a RJ today morning in an interview with her.

“So, I have the Captain Courageous – Abhay Rajput with me in the studio this morning, sir can you please tell me something about your childhood days, how were you being a child, naughty or shy or what? Did the game incite you from your early days? ” She asked in her bubbly voice adjusting headphone on her heads. I somehow manipulated the answer, but anytime someone asked about my past I became perturbed. Everyone wishes to be a child once again but I on no account wished same, divergent to that I wished totally opposite.

My mind was not letting me sleep in the chilled five star hotel room on a super comfy bed; it was running at its highest capacity and the same question came to my mind which had ended up in numerous sleepless nights:

“Was the Worst behind me or yet to come?”

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I had always been a decent son for my mother since birth. People say, I didn’t bothered her much, just one or two push, a little pain and I was out crying on a winter night in the January. I came out hungry – crying and the things got worsened from thereon. As I grew up, I realized in how much trouble I actually was. We were the family of three – Me, Maa and my younger sister – Chhutki. I don’t know why I never considered my father into that, coz he was never into family at all. He used to be out the whole day; in the night he will come to home drunk, abuse at my mom, eat his food, sleep and go away the early morning. Maa always used to say, he was working in home guards but I doubted that. It was my mom who used to work in the nearby locality to earn daily Chapatis and Sabji and sporadically Daal as wellfor the family.

 

We used to stay at a temporary arrangement of four walls made of bricks, with no plaster on there, a tadpatri which had openings at about three places if not less; was placed as the roof, tied with the walls, it was a place that we called ‘Home- Sweet Home’ in the Mafatpura, the area on the banks of River Sabarmati in the Metro City of Ahmedabad. Our home was small and tidy without much to look within. There was a nice Sai-Baba photo on the right hand side wall on which – ‘Sabka Malik Ek’ was written with shinning golden letters. The left most corner of the house had the Chula where Maa made the food every evening telling us the stories of Lord Krishna & some hundred odd brothers who fought with their other brothers; some god who travelled in the forest with his brother and armed forces of some monkeys to save his wife and the victory of good over bad kind of stuff which never caught my curiosity but my sister always loved that. A little traditional bed with a limping leg used to rest in the one of the corners of the room, under it was a trunk where Maa hid her jewellery and some good clothes given by some generous employers of Maa for me and my sister were also put in there. Besides the trunk was the magic box of Pandora – a little wooden box, in which I kept all the items I loved and wanted to store.

Almost every house in our locality had children of my age, so from very much beginning I made good friends – Sunny, Lukkha, Bhola, Tinka and many more. We always used to play together in the sand, eve-tease the dogs and cows, try n steal an orange candy from Bhopa Kaka’s stall. It was very simple being a kid but as I started growing up I realized how much worst it is to live in the poor conditions; someone has very much fittingly said that Money can’t buy happiness but before saying this utter nonsense you need enough money in your pocket and nobody can relate with it better than me.

It was a lovely summer evening; I was sitting on the banks of river Sabarmati playing with the little pebbles.  Strong breeze with the flavor of summer heat was  flowing from the river, not much water was there but still the heat there was bearable then at my place. I was really hungry, it was still time for Maa to come home and prepare the dinner. Thus, was trying to kill the time and hunger, throwing little stones in the river trying to test out how far-flung can I chuck them.

“Lambu, you are here, I have been looking for you since while.” Bhola came running barefoot.

“Why?”

“Sunny has challenged nearby locality boys for a cricket match, he is looking for you.”

“Cricket..!!!  As if I am the cousin of Kapil Dev” I saw Sunny coming running from far, he was breathing heavily, sweat drops were running down from his dark face.

“Lambu, we have a cricket match. It’s a bet of Ten Rupees with Khodiyarnagar boys.” He said, he was the leader of the cricket gang of Mafatpura, I never played cricket with them though, it never caught my interest.

“Have you ever seen me playing with ball and bat and right now I am very much hungry as well, please excuse me.” I said without showing much gusto, continued throwing those little shingles in the little water left in the Sabarmati due to beat of summer heat.

“C’mon Lambu, you are well built-up and your height is also good. You can be a good bowler; it doesn’t require much to do. You just have to run in, bowl and target the three stumps. And I promise if I will win Ten Rupees I will buy Khari Biscuits for all of us from it, I just want to win.”

Picture of nice crispy layers of Khari Biscuits added fuel to the fire burning in my stomach, “Okay, I am in.” I threw the bunch of pebbles in my hand at a one go in the river, stood up to set off with them.

The game was on, riverside filthy area was chosen as the venue, three out of shape branches of a tree were selected as the stumps and the field was set.

“Look Lambu, you just need to run in, use all your strength and target those three stumps, bowl as fast as you can, so fast that none of those little a**holes should even be able to see the ball.” Sunny thudded vibrantly handing over the red colored rubber ball to me; Rocky was written on to it. Rats were playing hide and sick inside my stomach, picture of Crispy Khari Biscuit was in frontage of my eyes as I ran in to bowl the first bowl of my life at the age of around seven.

“And the sound of timber, Indian captain draws the first blood and Indian camp is carousing; Its an important breakthrough, Captain is elated and I can see the hunger in his eyes for more, Indian Captain is out hunting Lankans.” Sanu was still on the Television, as I stole a look at the television. I was in awe; which hunger Wasim bhai was talking about from the commentary box.

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That day at the riverside, changed my way of looking at the game. With each day passing I kept on getting more and more immersed towards it. Instead of Shaktimaan, Wasim Akram, Glen Macgrath and Kapil Dev became the role models for me. Marbles and Photos of actresses exposing their cleavages were replaced by photos of Sachin, Mark Waugh & Waquar in the magical box of Pandora.

“Maa, give me ten rupees.” I said as Maa was busy cooking the lunch, sitting in front of smoldering Chula, sweat was dripping from all over her face, her eyes were bowed red due to unvarying exposure to the heat, her oval shaped face was dyed with the black and grey colored ash in parts on her chicks.

“Ten Rupees..!! Why?” She said

“I need it; I will return it tomorrow, for sure.” I said as she hesitatingly took out wrecked ten rupee note from her blouse and gave it to me.

“Don’t waste it on your stupid cricketers’ photos.”

“Okay Maa……..”

I took it from Maa, rushed to the Tinka who was waiting at the Garth of the Mafatpura for me. We immediately started on foot for Lal Darwaja. It was the August afternoon, sun was ablaze at his best, I felt asphalt roads were on fire and I was walking barefoot over there, my feet were blazing, I sensed smoke was coming out from there. Suddenly I stopped thinking of something.

“What happened?” Tinka who got ahead of me asked

“I will just be back in a minute, you wait here.” I said rushing to the left in the spur of the moment.

In around five to seven minutes, I came dashing where Tinka was waiting for me.

“C’mon, let’s go.” Urgency was palpable the way I was rushing

“Take a gulp of air first, look at you; you are wheezing like a railway engine.”

“Let’s go from here first, will tell you on the way.” I said looking down at my feet, they weren’t uncovered any longer, I had brand new Chappals borrowed (free of cost – without acquiescence of the possessor) from the Jadeshwar Mahadev.

It was the thirteenth august and it was the idea of Tinka which we were busy implementing, both me and Tinaka borrowed ten rupees each from our parents, went to Lal Darwaja, procured the Plastic Tri-Color flags from the Twenty Rupees, we managed to get a good deal deal of fifty flags after Tinka negotiated (in fact squabbled) for almost half an hour with the vendor. Our plan was very simple buy the flags at cheaper rate, sale them on the cross roads, return the borrowed amount at home and take pleasure in the small profit earned.

The next day, fourteenth august, we spent on the Income-tax crossroads.  It was chosen as the place of action coz, first it was nearby to our locality and it was one of the most crowded crossroads of the city. First fifty flags were succumbed only within first two hours; from the amount earned; we once again went and purchased another lot of flags, buy and sale modus operandi went all through the day. It was very pleasant for me, smile on the face of a kid in the air-conditioned car or sandwiched in between a mother and a father on a two-wheeler when I handed over a flag to him, also fetched a smile on my face, a satisfying smile, don’t know why but still a very very satisfying smile.

At the end of day when closed the shutters of our business, we had one hundred and two rupees in total after deducting for our lunch (Puri-Bhaji at a nearby small stall), tea and biscuits in the noon and finally a cream-roll in the evening to commemorate success of our business; which meant we had gained forty rupees each after sweating whole day on the income-tax crossroads.

“Put your money in our unit linked scheme and set all the worries a side, earning money isn’t thorny anymore – ADX Mutual Funds.” A tagline flashed on the screen of the bright 32” wall-bound LCD, I felt a gust of the air like a block of ice from AC, “Earning money can’t be this easy, can it be?” I thought as Sanu went to mini-bar and helped himself to a chilled bottle of Beer; Highlights of the Final Match sustained.

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It was a dark night, I was sniveling, tears were rolling down from my small eyes, India had lost the semi-final in the Wills World Cup-1996 against the mighty Lankans at chronological Eden Gardens, even exquisite innings of sixty five from the Little Master couldn’t save the Indians; I felt so powerless that day; I cursed myself for being a bowler and not a batsman, as if I would have been a batsman, they would have allowed me to get pad up and go to the field.

“Which students will die, if ceiling fan will fall right now?” I marveled staring at the ages old fan working intimidated, yesterday’s loss was still on my mind, Dube sir – our math teacher in his mid-forties with blithering persona was busy calculating some weird sums on the black-board which wasn’t black on many of the parts, grey shaded room gave the impression of being more like a haunted house than being a class room, spider networks were all over the ceiling as if spider man had just triumphed over green goblin. The walls were looking alike painted years ago, pellicles were dominating all over.  It was how we got to our Primary Education every day at – The Municipality Primary School No.12, wondering when the ceiling fan will fall and who will be amongst the causalities.

“Lambu, tell me the answer of this sum!” He yelled as I was still staring at the fan

“Who Me?”  My tone was that of being surprised

“Yes, you only Lambu, you are the only one called Lambu in the class.” He was bigheaded and that was the only reason we all hated him, the whole class gawked at me as I stood unvoiced gawking at my feet.

“Get out of the classsssssssss…!” I heard a bark from him.

After a while, bell rang, class ended and Dube sir came out of the class, I was standing there captivating a full support of the wall.

“Come in the staff room.” He said, that very moment I knew I am going to get some pounding, I haven’t been there before but I remember students coming out of the staff room howling, he was the most stringent teacher of all in the school.

The atmosphere in the staff room wasn’t the convincing one, the lights there weren’t working or weren’t switched on, the whole room was entirely dark, only a little light in the room; broke its way from the half open window on the extreme end of the room.

“Go and stand in that corner.” He ordered sitting on a wooden chair, its legs shuddered.

A few moments passed in hush, I stood there facing the clammy wall, a typical smell of dampness & humidity was assorted in the air.

“Strip down…!”

“What?”  I turned back to look at the Dube sir

“Take down your shorts, you little mother f**ker.” I don’t know why some anonymous trepidation took over my mind and I acted upon each word of him. I was unaware of the fact about what he did, I just stood there and let him act on his will but I was in severe pain, so much pain that even while walking back to the class room I was in imbalance (don’t know the imbalance was bodily or psychosomatic, but some imbalance was there), tears were rolling down my eyes when he was finished. I never went back to school after that day, never ever.

“Padhega India tabhi to Badhega India…!” Mr. Bacchan announced on the Television commercial, as I stayed lied on the comfy bed pretending to be asleep, Sanu was enjoying each and every moment of the bulletin.  I don’t know why I stopped going to school, but even today Dube sir comes in my nightmares and orders, “Strip down you little mother fucker…!” but this time around before I obey his commands, my eyes get unlocked, and I keep on ogling wide eyed at a sinister ceiling.

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