Batten down the hatches

Trying is the first step toward failure - Homer Simpson.

Cal: "You are really pushing my buttons today."
Becky: "Which one is 'mute'?"
—Waitress, the Musical

Rohit

Rohit Sharma, the Vice Captain of the Indian Cricket Team, and also the person whose precious hours of sleep has now been interrupted for the fourth time in probably that many minutes.

I am never ever taking another road trip with the crazy duo of Kohli and Jadeja. What was I even thinking?

Yes, I am Rohit Sharma. The ever troubled human. Kohli's secret best friend and Jaddu's sounding board. I have broken up more fights between my teammates than I have personally had in my entire life.

I am the person who breaks up the tension in Press Conferences, can turn a deaf ear to just about anybody and cannot say no to either Hardik or Jassi. I am the person who loves his space and yet hates to be left alone.

Generally. Not now. Just Generally.

Now I would like nothing more than to be left alone. Just one hour. I am not asking for too much now; am I?

"Yaar Rohit! Tell this Kohli to stop with the Punjabi numbers. As much as I love Punjabi music; after 15 hours of it, I have had enough."

With my eyes barely opened, I saw Virat flip off Jaddu and yell out, "My car. My rules. My music!"

Did I mention that the man can be a kid? A child? La Bambino? And he is the Captain of the Indian Men's Cricket Team. And supposedly one in a billion... or was it a million? Must be a billion... That is higher.

I stretched my hands, shaking them free from the cramps; it was not very comfortable to sleep in a car, for long hours, especially with one Ravinder Jadeja at the wheels. The man was purposely seeking out every pothole in the street, or so it seemed.

Dragging down my mask, I grabbed a bottle of water and drank thirstily; I needed my sustenance before trying to reason with an uncooperative Virat Kohli. Even it was just water.

"Jaddu is not wrong, Virat. Can you put on something a...a little less intense? For some time?"

"My car..My..."

"Yeah I got that, but my ears are bleeding." I put as much entreaty in my voice as possible. "And I doubt that you want to confront Mahi Bhai with a headache in tow, on top of everything else?"

"I am chill." Virat's voice carried as much stubbornness as a child's would and he was pouting for good measure. "I want to drive."

I could have smacked him; this was the 7th time we were having the same argument. And yes, I was keeping count.

"Wear your mask, Virat," I murmured tiredly. "And you had been driving for more than ten hours. It was not safe for you to keep driving."

"Then let me listen to the music, at least!"

"But..." Jaddu tried to speak up but I caught his eyes in the rear view mirror and shook my head.

Virat was in a strange mood and there was no arguing with him at this point; at least he had put his mask back on. Though we were in a moving car and all, I did not want to take any chance with the Covid infection. The last 20 hours had been a lesson in patience, stubbornness and appreciating bad jokes. Our moods kept changing by the hour and at least one of us would be skulking at any given point.

The most ridiculous point of the journey had been when Jaddu had been convinced that the guesthouse (as arranged by our manager), where we had stopped to freshen up, was haunted. The caretaker did look like he had stepped out straight from a Ramsey Film and Virat had concurred with Jaddu; the guest house had to be haunted.