Can I play Cricket with you?
Whack! With a beautiful swing of his cricket bat, Abhilash sent the ball high into the air. It was just the second week of the summer holidays, something that 11-year-old Abhilash looked forward to the entire year. Endless cricket with his friends during the day, and ripe, juicy mangoes-cut into small square pieces that his mother used to serve after dinner.
"Nice shot, Abhi". That was Tarun, currently at the non-striker's end and also doubling up as the umpire in this version of street cricket.
With a hint of arrogance in his gait, Abhilash walked along the pitch, examining the surface for cracks, and hitting it gently with his bat. He was imitating Sachin Tendulkar, his idol.
Kevin ran in to bowl the next one to Abhilash. It was pitched slightly short of length and Abhilash stepped out to hit it out of the park. The ball landed inside a house on the first floor inside their apartment complex, barely missing the window pane.
"Oh boy! Now what, Abhilash. You will have to buy me a new ball. This is the second ball of mine that you have lost" This was a real dilemma. Kevin and Tarun were the de facto sponsors for everything- bat, ball and the stumps. Abhilash could not ask his parents for money, they would skin him alive. Ever since he failed in History, his dad did not want him to waste time on useless things like cricket. His heart was pounding against the rib cage.
Abhilash quietly went to his room after the game. They had decided that Abhilash would pay Kevin for the ball, and all of them would pitch in for buying a set of balls. Now this required some money, which was of course in short supply with Abhilash. He sat on his chair, pondering on the possibilities. He got an idea! Every day his parents used to put some small change into a piggy bank inside their prayer room. "Surely, they don't need money", thought Abhilash, and it was perfect, since no one would lose anything from this.
He took his 15 cm scale and quietly went to the prayer room. He put the scale inside and tried to slide out some notes. It was more difficult than he imagined. He was able to slide the note right to the edge of the opening, but it did not come out. He had to give up. If he had to play cricket tomorrow, he would have to arrange for money before 4:30 PM. As he lay on his bed, trying to sleep, sleep avoided him. All he could think of was the green tennis ball, with its skin peeling off at a couple of places.
He was listless the next day. There was no way he could get the money, and without money, they would not be able to play. Sure, there are other games, but only small kids play those games. Cricket is for young guys like him, he thought.
Nevertheless, he walked down that evening. Hoping to persuade his friends to allow him to play. He looked up at the flat where the ball had landed. Hey! There was someone there. He saw a boy, who ran inside as soon as Abhilash saw him. "Maybe I can ask them to give me the ball", thought Abhilash. Then we all can surely play.
He saw the boy now downstairs, running towards him. "Hi, My name is Rohit. We just moved into the flat upstairs. I have a ball that I found in the balcony. Can I play cricket with you?"
"Nice shot, Abhi". That was Tarun, currently at the non-striker's end and also doubling up as the umpire in this version of street cricket.
With a hint of arrogance in his gait, Abhilash walked along the pitch, examining the surface for cracks, and hitting it gently with his bat. He was imitating Sachin Tendulkar, his idol.
Kevin ran in to bowl the next one to Abhilash. It was pitched slightly short of length and Abhilash stepped out to hit it out of the park. The ball landed inside a house on the first floor inside their apartment complex, barely missing the window pane.
"Oh boy! Now what, Abhilash. You will have to buy me a new ball. This is the second ball of mine that you have lost" This was a real dilemma. Kevin and Tarun were the de facto sponsors for everything- bat, ball and the stumps. Abhilash could not ask his parents for money, they would skin him alive. Ever since he failed in History, his dad did not want him to waste time on useless things like cricket. His heart was pounding against the rib cage.
Abhilash quietly went to his room after the game. They had decided that Abhilash would pay Kevin for the ball, and all of them would pitch in for buying a set of balls. Now this required some money, which was of course in short supply with Abhilash. He sat on his chair, pondering on the possibilities. He got an idea! Every day his parents used to put some small change into a piggy bank inside their prayer room. "Surely, they don't need money", thought Abhilash, and it was perfect, since no one would lose anything from this.
He took his 15 cm scale and quietly went to the prayer room. He put the scale inside and tried to slide out some notes. It was more difficult than he imagined. He was able to slide the note right to the edge of the opening, but it did not come out. He had to give up. If he had to play cricket tomorrow, he would have to arrange for money before 4:30 PM. As he lay on his bed, trying to sleep, sleep avoided him. All he could think of was the green tennis ball, with its skin peeling off at a couple of places.
He was listless the next day. There was no way he could get the money, and without money, they would not be able to play. Sure, there are other games, but only small kids play those games. Cricket is for young guys like him, he thought.
Nevertheless, he walked down that evening. Hoping to persuade his friends to allow him to play. He looked up at the flat where the ball had landed. Hey! There was someone there. He saw a boy, who ran inside as soon as Abhilash saw him. "Maybe I can ask them to give me the ball", thought Abhilash. Then we all can surely play.
He saw the boy now downstairs, running towards him. "Hi, My name is Rohit. We just moved into the flat upstairs. I have a ball that I found in the balcony. Can I play cricket with you?"
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