Moyurakhkhi's Cigarettes

22| Lemonade

"Like this?" Tubu asked Sahal, holding her bat in a sweeping motion.

"No, no, that's for a leg-spin ball. For off-spin, you do this," Sahal said, taking the bat from her and standing sideways with a stance.

Sitting on the grassy field, I looked at them fondly. I'd said sorry to him about being so rude earlier, and (reluctantly) explained the reason behind me getting so triggered. He was such a sweetheart, he apologised profusely.

Today, he'd asked me to bring Tubu along to school so that he could coach her.

It was so intimate, seeing him care for my little sister. So warm and familial.

-

I found Tubu doing jumping jacks in her room with Jackie. They stopped when they saw me.

"Sahal Bhaiya showed me which exercises to do," Tubu said, beaming.

I couldn't help but smile. I also felt a little useless. He'd done so much for me; I wished I could give it back to him.

"I'm going to his T-20 match, with Fizz. Do you want to come?"

"Yes, yes, yes!"

The sky above the field was a pale blue and clusters of white clouds hung on the horizon. At the brink of Bashundhara R/A, all you could see were vast stretches of green plots, untainted by concrete. Thousands of fluffy ivory kaashphool around the cricket field raised a soft murmur as they swayed in the autumn breeze.

Tubu, Fizz and I sat on the slope at the edge of the field. Sahal was engrossed in discussing something with his teammates on the pitch. They were loud, but I could barely hear them over the hammering and shouting from across the road. A pandel was being set up there, large enough to house a few hundred devotees. In the centre was a huge, magnificent statue of the Hindu goddess Durga. They were preparing for Durga Pooja, the ritual to honour her, which was less than two weeks away.

The umpire was a skinny guy in his early thirties with a ridiculous amount of sunscreen on. He tossed a coin. Sahal's team won the toss, and he chose to field.

Let me tell you something. On the field, Sahal's sweetness and charm evaporated. He was rough. He yelled curses at his teammates and aggressively argued with the umpire. This side of him was...intriguing.

Nobody seemed to dare disagree with him. And he was a damn good captain, because by the end of the first innings, the opposing team had scored only 88 runs.

"Why are you looking at Sahal like that?" Fizz asked.

I tucked the strands of hair buffeting in the wind behind my ears. "Like what?"

"Like you're attracted to him."

I let out a nervous laugh. "What? No, not at all."

She eyed me suspiciously. "You like him, don't you?"

"Uff, come on Fizz. You know very well that we're just friends. I'm glad that we are."

"Are you glad when he flirts with every girl on campus?"

She put me on the spot. I averted my eyes, like I always did when I saw Sahal laughing with a girl in the hallway. I looked away and forced myself to stop thinking about it because I didn't want to feel jealous. I didn't want to feel anything.

She read it right off my face. 

"So what? It's just annoying, that's all," I tried.

"Running from feelings never ends well."

After a player on the opposite team got injured, heaving for breath, Sahal made his way over to us. Tubu jumped up and gave him a high-five, Fizz too. But I could barely look. His white jersey was damp with sweat and clung to his body. He lifted a corner to wipe his forehead and I caught a glimpse of his torso.  

I shut my eyes.

To make things worse, Sahal sat down right beside me. He took a swig of his lemonade.

"Sup? You're not getting bored, are you?" His voice was hoarse from the shouting.

I shook my head from side to side.

"Why're your eyes closed?" he asked, full of mirth.

Right. Eyes. I opened them and stared at my lap. 

Tubu fired away questions at him. He answered every last one with sincerity.

The match resumed, and he left. 

The second innings was much shorter. Sahal opened with a buff guy from his team, and together they scored 70 runs in no time, with 2 sixes from Sahal. Then the opposing team got two consecutive wickets, which was disappointing. But Sahal's team finished strong and won by 6 wickets.

He beckoned us over to take photos with the glinting trophy. "Congrats," I said, smiling at the ground.

"Thanks." He grinned, running a hand through his damp hair. Miraculously, he didn't smell bad. The faint scent of cucumber soap was still there.

I caught a spot of red near his knee. "Dude, you're bleeding!"

He glanced at his leg. "No, it's fine, it's just a scratch. Let's go take pics," he said and started walking, but I stayed rooted to the spot.

"No Sahal, you're literally bleeding-"

Sahal looked back, rolling his eyes. He took my hand in a gentle grip and pulled me along. For a moment, time slowed.

His hand on mine didn't send my heart racing like I'd imagined it would. My palm only became alive, an exciting warmth tingling up my fingertips. It was hard to believe that my hand was not created for the sole purpose of holding his. I was safe, and I belonged.

I was home.

With him, I was home.

moyurakhkhi's notebook

I love you as one loves prayer

and may God forgive me,

a little more.

Prayer makes my demons go away,

so do you.

It bathes me with peace,

so do you.

It steals me safety when the lights are out

my dear, so do you.

But prayer promises heaven,

you already are.

But prayers are there whenever my lips move with them,

you have a will of your own

and one day, perhaps you will take flight forever.

Even then, I'll love you as one loves prayer,

and God forbid,

a little more.

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