Authors: Latika Sharma
I
t was the day of our farewell.
‘I think you look eye-catching in this sherwani Dev!” I said looking amazingly at Dev, who had just walked in the auditorium hall.
“Really man? I don’t know, but Surbhi said she liked it so I kind of did it for her.” Dev flipped his hair and stood a complete inch taller than me. Sometimes I feel god plays with our heights when we are adolescents. I was taller than him in tenth!
All my friends were dressed beautifully, hell even my teachers had made an effort today! That Bony was wearing a tie! Juniors had done a grand decorating job! Dev’s girl Surbhi had helped of cource. She walked in just as we were admiring the rangoli. God! You should have seen the difference in Dev! How sober and puppy faced he looked. I was watching from near the soft drinks corner. She looked pretty in her pink sari. I suppose the bun was in fashion, so her hair was done that way. Traditional jewellery, lots of bangles, huge earrings and perfume! Everything a guy yearns for in his girl. No wonder our hit man Dev had just turned poodle!
It was getting late. I was impatient now. Riya’s father was to leave her to school today. God how much I wanted to see Riya! The last term had been killing for us both. We had hardly seen each other or even had a full conversation without her freaking out every time someone crossed us. I hated to see her that way! Those gorgeous eyes, that I looked at, had dark circles under them. She claimed it was due to over exhaustion over her twelfth studies. But I had looked so much in them to know when she lied.
Today was a much awaited chance to mix in crowd and just be together. Dev turned and looked at me. He was asking about Riya too. I had just raised my hand to signal that I was getting old waiting for her when I saw her enter the great hall!
For a second my heart stopped! I had never seen her in a sari, and looking at her now I knew I would never forget this moment for the rest of my life!
“Hey Vikram, let me take you to another place!” I called out from behind them.
“Where to now?” Vikram was not all that interested anymore. I suppose he was sensing Riya’s discomfort.
“Down there . . . the honour rolls! Riya’s name features on many of them.” I took them to the reception office which was always open. There we stood, all four, looking at the many honour rolls. Riya was the topper in twelfth, without doubt, and the school head girl and the best voted student of the year, and the school literary Vice-captain. That put a satisfying and proud smile on Vikram’s face. Even Manya was shrieking at the displays, patting Riya on her back.
“I always wanted to be like you Riya! Oh god! You must have studied for hours! I never could!” Manya was tugging at Riya’s arm; all enchanted by her and I was happy too, as Riya was finally smiling.
“Well, all is done guys! Let’s go out and get a cuppa coffee before we head back!” I saw no point in dragging this any further. I wanted to take her in the great hall but decided against it! The memories were too overbearing.
I took Manya by hand and walked along Vikram heading towards the door.
“There is one more honour roll.” Riya spoke as all of us were just about to exit the office. We turned and saw that she had not come with us but was still looking at the big wooden boards in the office.
“Here, let me show you this one,” she said looking at me and then turning towards one big blue board at the other end of the room. Manya was the first one to rush to her side, followed by Vikram and then a few paced behind, by me.
“Look . . . there . . .” She pointed with her slender figure at my name.
“Wow Kabir! It’s your name sweetie, the school basketball captain!” Manya was jumping with joy. I looked at it and memories flashed in my mind like lightening!
“Team A captain will be Dev Verma and Team B will be led by Tejas Ahluwalia. I take great pleasure in announcing, the school team’s captain this year will be Kabir Sharma...” Coach Ranjeet’s voice echoed from the walls of the school.
“Yeah! That’s me . . . did something someone would remember me for . . . right Riya!” I looked at her and she looked back. A thousand unspoken words flew between us.
“Ofcource Kabir, you were our school’s champ! We were all very proud of you.” She spoke professionally. “There will always be a new captain, look this year it’s some boy called Kawaljeet Sodhi”. She read the honour roll again. I nodded; she had always managed situations well.
We came out of the reception and I suggested we have our school’s special coffee. I reminded Riya how much she had liked them, especially during the freezing January month right before the exams. She looked uncomfortable every time I reminded her something. But, as always, managed beautifully to cover it up. One year of being the school Head girl had trained her well to hold her composure in any situation.
We were crossing the basketball court on our way to the coffee spot. I saw the same uniforms on different boys now, running out and sweating despite the chill in season. I walked on. No point in getting carried away by the smell of rubber on your palms!
“Kabir! . . . watch out! Duck!” It was Vikram’s shout!
I had heard a thump, a little too close. Those reflexes had not left me, neither had my timing! I turned back in a flash and caught the off track basketball before it could hit me!
“Sorry . . . sorry man! I missed the shot!” a young boy came running towards me.
I looked at Riya . . . oh yes! She remembered it well.
“It’s ok . . . you did not do it intentionally, no one would!” I said looking at Riya who was looking down, trying to control her emotions.
I threw the ball back.
“Hey, neat throw man! You ever played basketball?”
“He was your captain once!” Manya spoke before I could even open my mouth.
“Really, when was this? You, an alumnus?”
“Yeah! I’m Kabir . . . Kabir Sharma.” I said looking at him.
At the mention of my name his eyes widened and he let out a small yelp of excitement. He waved all his team mates and told them who I was.
Before that moment I had not known that I was a carrying legend in my school.
“Great to meet you sir! I am Kawaljeet. I am this year’s captain. I have seen you play sir! I was in first grade when you were our captain! It is an honour! We still follow your defences and tricks!”
I was too lost in this new found fame. “Thanks guys! I was just passing by with my friends here! Vikram, Manya and Riya. We were just looking . . .”
“You are Riya? Riya Sehgal?” a boy amongst the group asked.
“Yes . . . that’s me.” Riya smiled sweetly at him.
“The same Riya who was studying with Captain Kabir Sharma?” He asked again.
Now Riya looked alarmed. I saw her hands begin to tremble and I took over.
“Guys we are running late. Well good luck and Sodhi, bro . . . win that cup ok!” I patted the captain’s back and turned to leave.
“C’mon Captain, play a game with us!” Kawaljeet said throwing the ball towards me. I must tell you, the feel of a ball in a player’s hands is supernatural! It is like a scalpel in a doctor’s hand and a guitar in a guitarist’s hand. Made for each other.
“No! thanks anyway,” I said tossing it back.
“What Kabir Sharma is afraid of my team? No steam!” Kawaljeet said. Tall and athletic he was as tall as Dev. He reminded me of Angad, my senior.
And, all I ever needed was a little push.
“Kabir Sharma... is scared of no one. You’re on!” I took of my jacket and threw it back at Riya who caught it with surprise in her eyes. I should have thrown it at Manya now, but in a moment of excitement and joy we do what comes naturally to us, not what we teach ourselves over and over again to be attuned for.
I was reliving my past! I took my watch off and threw that too at her which she sheepishly caught. I smiled at her and I saw a nervous girl look at me. Manya stood empty handed looking at Riya and then me. Finally she sat down on the benches.
T
he game began.
I was in team A, the Captain. I stood with my sleeves rolled up and explained what I wanted out of my team. They seem to understand.
We started. The ball came in my hand and I jiggled it around Kawaljeet and threw it at a member of my team, Amit. Tall, with an athletic built Amit threw it back at his mate, who threw it back towards Amit who was by now in the front circle. I was covering him and we did our first basket!
It was an ecstatic feeling! My court, my team, my game! The only thing I was really good at. And my girl, the love of my life, watching me from afar, still clutching my things as always!
Without wasting time, after a mild cheer from the benches, we swung around, with the ball now in Kawaljeet hand. He dribbled it and threw it at his team mate who dodged it from my left and went ahead almost near to his basket. Then the tiny fellow of my team, Garvit Ahuja, slipped it from his grip and threw it at me. I turned back swiftly, and ran towards my side ofthe team where one of my mates was already in position and we did another basket!
Two baskets back to back really made Kawaljeet sweat. He nodded his head and called his team in a circle as did I.
“Sir! You are fantastic! No wonder you are a legend in our school!” It was the tiny Garvit.
“Thanks buddy! But it’s all in team work. You win, so I win. OK. Now Kawaljeet would harden his defences, one man behind one man tactic. Here is how we are going to break it . . .” And I explained what I had learned from coach Ranjeet all those years back.
When the game resumed, Kawaljeet’s team came heavily on us. It was not before four straight baskets by them that my team understood their trick and we began slashing them. All guys in my team had some speciality, as I studied them carefully. Amit was tall, Garvit was tiny but fast, John was a good shooter seldom missing a basket, and Suraj was a good backup. Each had a strong point and I was formulating my strategies to use all of these.
Soon our team was shooting baskets regularly. Kawaljeet looked irate but I also saw admiration floating in his eyes. Ofcource, as a team captain and then the current school captain, he would feel bad about losing from my team. But the guy had patience, a must for any good captain, and soon our scores were equal at twenty eight points. We had agreed that the first team to touch thirty points would be the winner.
Only one basket would determine the winning team!
“Dev! Calm down man! What are you doing?” I had patted his back and tried to relax his tense shoulder muscles. It was the finals. We were sure to win this match. I wanted to, it would complete my string of straight five victories in the Annual Gandhi memorial basketball tournament. Since I had joined the school team in eighth grade, our team had never lost. I wanted to keep it that way, especially this year as it was our last in school and I was now the school captain.
Our opponents had learned that apart from the skill in this game, temper and attitude can make a remarkable difference. Each member of their team was offensive and blurted sly remarks despite numerous warning. I must admit, their team captain, a guy named Vedant Bhandarkar was anything but a humble sports man. He had the physique of a bull dog and a mere push by him would have broken ribs.
He had said something to Dev, as they had crossed each other which had infuriated Dev to the point of missing four simple baskets in a row. Now our team was under pressure and I was trying to work up their courage and strive to achieve a victory. All our teachers were watching, all our friends, Riya, Surbhi, Bony sir, Payal ma’am, the Principal, Mr. Iyer, our coaches, our juniors, even our alumni were present. This was a historic match, five victories in a row was rare... It was the most intense time.
I knew what had to be done. Amazingly, it was what Tejas did when we were up against each other in our regular school practices. And so, I did what I had to do.
“Look guys, we need just one more basket to win!” I was speaking to my team as they all stood in a circle, sweat dripping from ourfaces. I had rolled up my shirt sleeve, all that remained was a half sleeve sweater and it was getting hot in it.
“What do we do now sir?” Amit asked. “Kawaljeet will not give up easily, and in such situations he usually is filled with extra energy! He will beat us to the bush now!” Amit had obviously played a lot with Kawaljeet.
“For starters, I want you guys to smile a lot!” I said looking at them.
“What? Smile? At them? Why?”
“It’s a trick to agitate the opponent, shows that you are not under stress, which puts them under stress. Smirking would be better. Pass the ball to the tallest guys, make em’ run, just keep passing the ball till I call for it. Do not throw it at me before that. And smile at them!”
My team was nodding their consent and some were even admiring the trick.
“Later to score our victory basket I have a scheme . . . pay attention now . . .” I explained what we were to do, each player repeated his task and we split to resume the game.
The game began. This plot, I had learned from my coach in college, in USA. It always worked.
I turned to see Riya; she was standing near the goal post, encircling her gold chain between her fingers. Her attention was at me, so she missed the fact that Vikram was staring at her. Her face was a true picture of her feelings for me and I saw Manya was uneasy as well. Vikram looked angry. He was looking at Riya and she was staring at me. It was then that the magnanimity of the events dawned on him. He had never seen it coming, though.
R
iya was amazed at Kabir’s nerve. How dare he throw his things at her? That too in Vikram’s presence? Throughout the day Vikram had picked up an uneasiness that Riya knew would result in trouble. And even Manya was beginning to realize that there was some under current to all this tomfoolery. No one is blind.
Riya had thought of giving Kabby’s stuff to Manya but when she turned around clutching his watch and jacket, Manya was already sitting on the benches along with Vikram. So Riya sat down along with them. From the corner of her eye she saw Manya, looking strangely at Kabir dribbling the ball. Riya could not fathom her look. Suddenly, Manya did not look so naive or a carefree bimbo. She was looking... far beyond the basketball court. As if on intuition, she turned and her beautifully done eyes met Riya’s. A faint smile touched her mouth and Riya froze in her seat. She knew . . . she knew that Manya had understood.