Page 5

The Vajra Arena, an in-house stadium on the west grounds of Saraswati Crest was teeming with happy bustle.

Students, teachers, staff from both Saraswati Crest and Vedanta Girls High filled the lower galleys.

The upper galleys sat empty, but that was expected.

This was the start of the year. Everybody was busy getting settled.

Samarth entered the arena from the Gandiv Pavilion, running smack into Coach Dhillon.

“Hey, Samarth! How are you, son?” Coach Dhillon smacked his shoulder. Samarth stood to attention, pushing his arms behind his back and chest out — “I am fine, Coach.”

“Coach Singh making you work day and night it seems.”

Samarth chuckled. His ex-cricket coach Dhillon had a bone to pick with his current polo coach Singh.

His own father had wanted him to play cricket.

He was decent at it too. But horses called his name.

He had already played slow chukkers polo on ponies ever since he was seven.

This was his chance to go professional. And when in standard 8th he had begged his way into SCPC — the Saraswati Crest Polo Club and then made it into the team just a few short months later, Coach Dhillon and his Papa had been the most disheartened.

“Are you here to cheer our girls’ team or after some cheerleader? Huh? What’s going on Samarth?” Coach Dhillon’s eyes narrowed. Samarth startled out of his thoughts, gulping.

“Oh… no, it’s… been so long since I came for a Saraswati Crest cricket match. I had a break and heard that Vedanta’s team is being unreasonably mean…” Samarth caught the nerve. Vedanta was always mean. Coach Dhillon’s face hardened, and Samarth realised he had hit the bullseye.

“Bullies. All of them. Our girls can give back as good as they get, but they are just not relenting today.”

“What happened?” Samarth glanced at the green pitch looking empty.

“252 for 6 in 20 overs. Their batters were heckling our fielders. Can you imagine? It’s the other way around. But two of them against eleven of ours and they managed this score.”

“Are we not in good form?”

“Top shape… but now I am concerned about what they will do to our batters. Eleven of them on the field against two of ours.”

“You give the best pep talk, Coach,” Samarth smiled up at him. “I still remember your slogan in-between our last match against Lawrence. Remember? 'Be your own Krishna?’ Look, understand and bloody give back — balls and words.”

Coach Dhillon’s eyes widened, remembering that pep talk.

In that match, they had been short of one of their star openers.

Lawrence had been taking full advantage of that and they were 5 wickets down.

At that point, Samarth had been on the field with the opener who had managed to survive.

And Coach Dhillon had stormed their way with the basket of drinks himself and spat these words like a hungry lion out for blood.

“Good idea…” Coach Dhillon muttered, turned on his heels and marched towards the team lounging in the stands.

One of the opening batters — Niva, was tying her knee pads.

Samarth’s eyes searched for Ava. She was the opener, wasn’t she?

Where was she? He couldn’t walk up there without a good reason now that Coach Dhillon had asked him upfront if he was here for a girl…

“Hey, hey, Shree!” Samarth caught their junior rolling a trolley filled with drinks.

“Hi, Samarth!” She stuttered, stopping in her tracks. “You know my name?”

“Of course,” he smiled. “Shree. It’s short for Shreeya, right? You came to our class to present your Galileo model, remember?”

Her face opened up and she returned a brilliant smile.

“Let me roll this for you, it must be heavy…” Samarth tried to pry the handle from her hands. She instantly gave up, falling in step beside him.

“Thank yoouuu,” she clasped her hands in front of her chest and cocked her head to the side. “It’s so heavy… but Coach Dhillon’s orders. The drinks should be rolled and ready, cooling by the pavilion.”

“It’s alright,” Samarth pushed the trolley down the freshly mowed grass, eyeing the Saraswati Crest stand where Ava was still nowhere to be seen.

“This must be nothing for you, no? You ride horses faster than anybody…” She touched his bicep, then poked it. “Whoa! Look at that…”

Samarth’s eyes found Ava’s and a smile as big as her eyes stretched across his face. But she didn’t return it. On the contrary, her brows drew together. Samarth frowned. What was wrong?

He pushed the trolley faster, reaching the stands and kicking the brake into place.

“Hi, Samarth, Please help,” Niva waved, struggling with her shoelace after tying her kneepads. Samarth took his eyes off Ava to bend down and tie them for her.

“Thanks, bro!” She pulled her gloves on.

When he straightened, Ava was again nowhere to be found. He turned from side to side. She hadn’t worn her gear yet. Wasn’t she opening?

A loud announcement reverberated and the stadium erupted in a roar. Vedanta’s fielders spilt out into the ground from the opposite side. Dots of white on green. Samarth turned again to check, and there she was — ready.

Hair tied back, knee pads on, gloves tight, helmet over her pretty face, walking like a princess ready to battle with her bat in both hands.

Samarth’s heart stopped beating. Under the bright sun, her all-white uniform glowed.

He couldn’t see her eyes clearly behind the grill of her helmet but Samarth kept staring, waiting for her to come closer.

She would be passing him to step onto the field.

“Go get them, Niva! Ava go!” The girls on their team screamed. Niva held her fist up in the air but Ava continued to walk, undisturbed. Samarth was fixated on that. How singleminded, how undisturbed, how focused she was. She would need it if Vedanta was out to heckle today.

“Good luck,” he murmured low as she passed him, careful not to disturb her concentration.

“Wish Niva,” she hissed. Samarth reared back. “Or Shreeya.”

He blinked, his mouth open as he stared at her back.

Her fist bumped with Niva’s and they both jogged onto the field amid a stream of applause.

Music, cheers and loud gongs announced the beginning of the match.

Ava took her position at the non-striker’s end.

The bowler said something to her. Ava did not respond.

As the bowler ran down the field to deliver her first ball, Samarth’s eyes remained on Ava, and her last words to him still floated around him. It took him from that moment to this to figure it out. And when he did, an incredulous feeling bubbled up his throat.

Shit.

Yes.

A chuckle escaped his lips.

The tempo of the stadium rose as the ball dropped on the pitch and swung with a bounce. Niva stepped out to knock it but didn’t anticipate the turn. It went straight into the stumps.

The stadium went silent.

“Howzattt!” Vedanta’s wicketkeeper jumped, the others joining with loud screams.

The umpire held his finger up. The stadium erupted. Samarth saw that Ava stood still. Undisturbed.

————————————————————

90 for 3. 10 overs down.

The drinks break was announced.

Samarth realised he hadn’t moved from his position on the edge of the field when Shree began to reach for the trolley of drinks.

He startled, gaping at a tired Ava march to the centre of the pitch to meet her new batting partner — Ruchi, and talk the next moves as the Vedanta gang gathered around them.

“I’ll take it, Shree, here,” Samarth lent her a hand in grabbing random bottles, stuffing them into a basket and gripping the handle in his fingers. Before she could protest or accompany him, Samarth turned to the pitch and broke into a jog.

“Aww, she thinks she’s Harmanpreet. Babe, even your cover drive has a trust fund,” one of them snickered.

“Ava, tell na, royal girls do cardio or just ‘walk with grace?’”

“Ok, serious question. Do you even sweat, or do your pores refuse?”

“She doesn’t sweat. Look at the scoreboard. 163 needed in 60. No drive in babe to cover up…”

Samarth reached the centre of their widely spread group and suddenly all their mouths pressed shut.

Eyes lasered on him, momentarily bringing their Mean Girls to a halt.

He just set the drinks basket on the ground, kneeled on the spot, and passed bottles of water to both his batters.

Ruchi had already removed her gloves and she took it, pulling off her helmet to drink.

Ava was still pulling the velcro on her gloves.

Samarth rose and held the water bottle up to her mouth through the grill of her helmet. Surprised brown eyes stared at him as he held the rim of the bottle steady. She tipped her head back and he poured the water down her open mouth. She drank thirstily, her throat moving.

“Slow, steady, you know how to do it,” he smiled at her with every gulp she took.

“You are doing it. You once told me all about how Coach Dhillon taught you to keep the scoreboard moving. You’re doing it so brilliantly.

You are behaving perfectly. The best, in fact,” he couldn’t help but smile wider and noted the flare of sparkle in her eyes.

She finished drinking and he pulled the bottle back, capping it. She still went on to pull the velcro on her gloves.

“What is it? The match is resuming in one minute.”

“My hair…”

Samarth didn’t even ask. He reached out and pulled her helmet off, flaring the sweaty mass of hair that had come loose from her ponytail. He quickly went around her, pulled the now-loose band off and gathered her hair in his fist.

“Did I get all?”

“No.”

He reached out with another hand and clawed his fingers back from her face, gathering as much as he could.

“Now?”

No answer.

“Quick, Ava, the timer is ticking.”

“Yes,” she huffed.