Night of 25TH

Chap 4: Battles on and off the Pitch

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Following the delightful breakfast, the little hands eagerly assisted Mamu in tidying up the table. Shubman felt a swell of pride, recognizing the etiquette their mother had instilled in them at the tender age of five. He was astonished at how mischievous yet grounded the kids were, their manners a witness to their upbringing. With the house securely locked, Shubman grabbed his kit and car keys, preparing for the next adventure. However, as soon as he unlocked the car, the siblings dashed towards the passenger seat, fighting for the desired spot. He sighed as he palmed his forehead, observing the spectacle of the siblings engaging in an intense struggle for the passenger seat. Taking lengthy strides, he swiftly intervened, physically separating the angry minions, all the while pondering a resolution to their conflict.

Shubman

I intervened, separating the fuming siblings who were locked in a heated argument.

"Guys, please stop fighting," I implored, addressing the enraged twins.

"Mamu, tell him girls are supposed to get the seat," Ahana argued her case.

"We live in the 21st century, where everyone is equal, so I have just as much right to the seat," Ahaan defended himself.

My head spun at the depth of their debate and the amount of knowledge possessed by these five-year-olds.

"I'm sorry, Ahaana, but Ahaan is correct. He has an equal right to the seat," I said, observing the victorious smile that appeared on Ahaan's face even before I finished the sentence. "However, it is also important to respect women," I added, completing my thought. This time, I noticed the other twin smirk in response.

"So, let's settle this with a game of rock, paper, scissors," I suggested, finally finding a solution.

Both of them nodded, determination shining in their eyes as they raised their fists in the air. I smiled, reminiscing about Shahneel and how we used to settle our disputes by playing this game to decide who would sit next to Dad.

"Mamu, we're ready," the twins announced, their gaze fixed on each other.

"On the count of three... two... one... go!" I exclaimed.

"Yeah, I won!" Ahaan cheered, jumping up and down in excitement.

I turned to Ahaana, only to find her lips quivering and tears streaming down her cheeks. "He cheated... He threw his hand in late," she accused Ahaan in a choked voice, her arms immediately encircling my neck. I comforted her by gently patting her back, trying to calm her down. "Ana, it was clear that he won. Don't you trust your Mamu?" I feigned sadness while wiping away her teardrops. Sniffling, she murmured, "I trust you."

"Good. I promise I'll let you sit in the front seat on our way back, okay?" I assured her, planting a tender kiss on her tiny fingers.

She nodded and wiped her nose with the back of her hand. Kissing her red, teary nose, I buckled both kids securely into their seats.

I took my place in the driver's seat and began the journey towards the stadium. Within minutes, the kids were already singing along to the songs on the radio, completely forgetting about the intense fight they had engaged in just moments ago. With my eyes fixed on the road, I pondered the complexities of understanding children. After approximately 25 minutes, we arrived at the stadium. Holding the twins' hands tightly on either side, ensuring their safety amidst the bustling crowd, I greeted the security personnel and made my way towards the dressing room. There, I introduced the twins to some of my domestic cricket teammates and their children, allowing them to bond while we practised.

Donning my cricket gear, I made my way onto the field while the twins had already formed connections with the other children, engaging in their mini-cricket session. Practice lasted about three hours, during which I occasionally caught glimpses of the children through the glass doors, engrossed in their cricketing adventures. After the practice session concluded, I returned to the dressing room, sweat-soaked, engaging in conversations with my coach and teammates. However, our voices trailed off as we took in the scene before us. The children had formed teams, and one team required six runs to win from a single ball. As the illustrious umpire, Ahana gracefully wove a tapestry of words, as she narrated the unfolding scene with dramatic flair. Ahaan, positioned confidently upon the non-existent crease, awaited the delivery with eager anticipation. The bowler, an energetic child of one of my teammates, clutched the small plastic ball tightly in his hand. With the chair, a substitute for the stumps.

In a seamless motion, the bowler unleashed the ball, its trajectory aimed towards Ahaan. A collision of immense energy ensued, as the plastic orb met Ahaan's bat with resounding force. Alas, fate took an unexpected turn, and the ball veered off its intended course, finding an unintended target in the form of my forehead.

Feeling the sting upon my brow, I could not help but joke, "Truly, we have a magnificent lineup of cricketing prodigies in our midst." As I tenderly massaged my injured forehead, a harmonious chorus of laughter reverberated throughout the room, creating an atmosphere brimming with delight Meanwhile, the young players scratched their heads with shy smiles, their countenances reflecting a sense of puzzlement and innocence.