22 Qadam Continued

1. A Promise Kept Safe

Fari had just swung the bat. The final stroke used every ounce of energy she had left and the red ball cut through the air like a bullet, fiercer still like a shooting star against the murky night sky. And then, her lungs expanded as her sight followed the sphere of solid red red, bloody enough to symbolise her dying hope, heavy enough to release her from the agonisingly weighty grief of losing a father; his demise was slow and then all at once, suddenly gone forever. It haunted her, she had played ruthlessly.

And when the ball hit the ground beyond the boundary rope, it took a second to bounce between the neurones in her mind. Flashing, blinding overhead light fizzled onto her retinas and the team erupted into a tumult of cheers and praises. Fari had done it. Her sixer pushed their score to 118 runs, 1 more than the opponent and the unattainable victory made her pass the threshold of tolerance. It was a small win in reality, but huge on the scales of her conscience and the floodgate broke free as her father's last words and her promise replayed in her mind, ''Tum vada karro ke tum apne khwab poore karou gye. Tum khelou gye.'' Her baba had told her to go out and achieve her dreams, to not rot at home to appease their neighbours, to blithely ignore her mother taunts and chase the simple desire in her heart.

In the middle of the pitch, Fari sobbed with childlike abandon. The teammates barely noticed amongst embracing one another for the mighty win; they let her, knowing the numb, robotic manner of her swings and catches couldn't hold up for long, it was a distraction until the time was right.

Junaid noticed. It was all he could see. Sitting there on the side bench as she waited to bat earlier, he should have said alot. There was alot to be said, apologies, words of support and encouragement, but he mirrored her muteness instead. Silently, without noticing, amid the unwavering admiration for Fari, he began to understand her stubbornness that act as a blessing and a curse, both in equal measure.

Now he see it clearly from afar, the release of heartache that streamed down her face in the image of salted, running tears, in the way she crouched onto the floor as her legs grew weak. Her forehead touched earth, dry and crackly mud that had been ran over and hit too many times by the soles of their trainers; like a true sportswoman, that's where Fari found cathartic release.

As their team jumped, the ground shook with astonishment of their miraculous victory, she let out sobs, everything catching up with her in a single moment. And when her lungs had ached enough, and the stream had been let off, she rose like a lioness and embraced the group.

Somehow they ended up opposite each other, Fari and Junaid jumping in a huddle of victory. He caught a glint of vulnerability in her eyes, then masked over with the success she had afforded the team. ''Theek ho?'' Junaid mouthed while the surroundings jostled, 10 other girls screeching at the swift turn around.

Fari gave a short, subtle nod; her heart was heavy, but her team was there to carry her the rest of the way. Her tears meshed into the sweat glistening on her face from the overpowering heat. Naz smoothed over her shoulder and couch Qasim endearingly kissed her crown, the gesture fatherly and triggering another surge of emotions that threatened to take her over the edge. Yet, Junaid's unwavering gaze held her stable, until she felt Amu's touch, homely and grounding. ''Shabaash meri behen,'' she uttered past Fari's ear, half lost in the racket.

For a fleeting second, the world felt like it was on the right track, like hope wasn't all lost. They had done the unthinkable, and were bound to get the recognition they sought.

But then, the navy of Junaid's cotton shirt slumped, the grip on his crutch lost and he tumbled in the center. Fari gasped, falling first to catch him first. Her fingers, tired and achy, latched onto his elbow. ''Junaid!'' She cried, thinking he had fallen like in her aangan again.