Summary -
One shots comprising of the Indian Cricket Team, their shenanigans and a few tidbits of their life.
Sometimes, I am assailed by tidbits of ideas for which I cannot think of full length stories. And some, I would like for them to remain a...
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Story 3 -
Cometh the Hour, Cometh the Stage, Cometh the Man. (Primarily Rohirat. A little bit of Mahirat.)
Disclaimer - The copyright of the photographs belong to the photographer. Not mine. :).
A/N - Just trying out Rohirat. And hoping against hope, that I do it some modicum of justice. This chapter is a slightly longer one. (Oops.)
82 Runs off 53 Balls.
The Run Machine.
The two crucial sixes off Haris Rauf.
The last over madness. The ebb and flow.
And the crash. That last jump. That final punch. Being lifted by Rohit. Hardik's emotional hug. The sheer calmness of Ashwin. Dinesh cheering on an already crazy MCG crowd.
From 31/4 to 144/5
And then the finish. He had Roared!
Roared in the face of every criticism he had faced over the last couple of years.
Roared at those naysayers.
Yelled a proverbial 'Fuck Off' at the so called 'experts' who had all but written him off.
Celebrated a little harder for those who had stayed glued by his side through the tough times and who had, time and again, pulled him out of the funk.
*Knock*
"Virat!! Come on out! We need to party, baby!
Hardik!
Virat smothered his laugh into his raised knees shivering in the crisp October chill. He was still wearing the same outfit he had played in; the thin jersey was doing little to keep him warm.
*Knock* *Knock*
"Virat!"
Virat further buried his face in his arms and consciously stopped listening. The adrenalin had worn off and it had left behind the shell of the man. The man who had faced so much criticism and censure over the last few years that even the praise was coming off as taunts.
Cometh the stage! Cometh the man!
What fucking stage! What fucking man! All the laurels because the game has been won.
Virat dug his fingers deep into the sockets of his eyes and screamed into his arms.
Because the game was won.
Virat wanted to break down, he needed to let go. But the kids! The kids must not know!
He shook his head. "The kids can never know," he mumbled to himself.
His phone vibrated. It was Anushka calling.
"No.. No... Cannot worry her!" He again mumbled to himself and with trembling hands disconnected the call, leaving a custom message, "Can I call you later?"
