Ishan gently caressed his nephew Vijay's hair, the soft murmur of the room's silence broken only by the rhythmic breathing of the little one. As he continued to watch the reels and Twitter updates, a mixed bag of emotions played on Ishan's face. His recent return from meeting fans left him grateful for their unwavering support.
However, lurking beneath the surface of gratitude was a sense of anticipation and uncertainty. The looming announcement of the Afghanistan team weighed heavily on his mind. Ishan knew that his name might not feature on that list, not just due to cricketing reasons but also because of the shadows cast by rumors and speculations.
Vijay, oblivious to his chachu's internal struggle, slept soundly. Ishan's eyes welled up with tears as he gazed at the innocent face of his nephew.
"Baby, kya mein bura huin?" Ishan whispered, his words a mere echo in the quiet room. "Kya tumhare chachu bure hai?"
He knew Vijay wouldn't respond, yet the act of sharing his thoughts with the sleeping child brought a sense of solace. As Ishan continued to stroke Vijay's hair, he couldn't help but express the burden that weighed on his heart.
"Mein thak chuka huin, umeed rakte rakte. Muje moka milega, lekin milta kab jab koi available nhi hota," Ishan confessed, the emotional strain evident in his voice. "Meine kisika kya bigada hai?"
Tears rolled down his cheeks as the weight of societal judgments, the speculations, and the pressure to conform to expectations took a toll on him. The room, bathed in the soft glow of a night lamp, bore witness to Ishan's silent struggle, his emotions laid bare in the hushed moments of introspection.
As Ishan sat beside his sleeping nephew, the room seemed to close in on him, shadows of doubt and worry about casting and he is going mad. His mind echoed with the unwarranted accusations and the relentless that had invaded every corner of his life.
"Ishaan drugs leta hai," the rumors whispered, intertwining with the genuine concern for his mental well-being. The weight of societal expectations pressed down on him, a heavy burden he carried in silence. The very sport that once brought him joy had become a stage for relentless judgment.
Closing his eyes, Ishan tried to shut out the noise of the world, the judgmental glares, and the whispers that painted him as a pariah. The journey from being a rising cricket star to navigating the intricate web of fame had left him vulnerable, exposed to the harsh realities that accompany success.
"I'm just a cricket player, why do they want to break me?" he wondered, a deep sigh escaping his lips. The anticipation of the Afghanistan team announcement felt like impending doom, a judgment day he couldn't escape.
As he glanced at Vijay, his nephew's innocence acted as a poignant reminder of the simplicity he longed for. Ishan yearned for a respite from the constant scrutiny, a chance to redefine himself beyond the constraints imposed by the cricket field.
The room echoed with the silent plea of a young man burdened by expectations, the emotional weight making it difficult for him to breathe freely. Ishan's struggle wasn't just against external pressures; it was a battle within, as he fought to reclaim his identity and rediscover the love for a sport that had once defined his happiness.
Ishan: (softly to his nephew) Beta, Chachu promises you'll not feel everything just like I do. I'll always be here for you, support whatever you want to be.
Wiping his tears, he looks at his nephew who smiles, calming down.
Ishan: (to himself) What have I done wrong? (speaking to his nephew) You know, I'm tired, holding onto hope. I hope for opportunities, but when they come, someone else is always available.
*He kisses his nephew's forehead and gently places a makeshift bandage outside, hiding his pain.*
Later in the bathroom...
Ishan, trying to numb his emotional pain, switches on the shower, its sound masking his sobs. He pulls out his shaving kit and, shirtless, makes two, three cuts on his abdomen. Feeling the physical pain, he repeats it, then bandages himself, hiding it under his shirt.
Ishan: (to his crying nephew) Shh, my love, Chachu is here. No need to be scared.
As his nephew stops crying and starts smiling, Ishan carries his emotional burden in silence, hidden behind his actions.
The next morning, Ishan wakes up, his physical wounds hidden beneath his shirt. He sees his nephew playing, oblivious to the turmoil in his chachu's heart. Ishan forces a smile, masking the emotional scars that run deeper.
Ishan: (whispering to himself) I can't burden them with my pain. They must never know.
He spends the day engaging with his family, trying to be the Ishan they've always known. As evening approaches, he receives a call from his friend.(secret crush)
Shubman: (on the phone) Ishu, kaisa hai tu?
Ishan: (forcing cheerfulness) Sab theek hai, Shub. Tu bata?
Shubman senses something amiss but decides not to press further.
Shubman: (concerned) Humein yaad rakhna, hum hamesha tere liye yahan hain.
Ishan: (grateful) Haan, Shub. Thanks.
As the call ends, Ishan looks in the mirror, reflecting on the fractures beneath his seemingly whole exterior.
Ishan: (whispering) Kaise samjhaun ki main toot raha hoon?
Days pass, and Ishan continues to navigate his struggles alone, maintaining the façade of strength for his loved ones. The scars on his body remain hidden, mirroring the scars within his soul.
Little does he know that his silent battles have not gone unnoticed, and the shadows of his struggles cast a somber hue on the vibrant tapestry of his life.
I am literally crying I hope so I pour out his emotions here
