Love On The Field

5

(Pc- Pinterest)

My phone buzzed, its soft tune coaxing me to wake, but I prioritized my sleep more. Face down, pillow wrapped around my ears, I shut down the noise, refusing to wake up, cause it's not the time.

I heard my mother's muffled voice, ''Moharani, uthun 10ta beje gache'' (Get up, Moharani, it's 10 o'clock), indicating she had come to wake me up and swap the rooms, so I wrapped my blanket tighter around me.

"Maa!'' I whined as she switched off the fan while leaving the room. She screamed back, ''If you don't wake up now, you'll go hungry until lunch!'' I whined again and searched for my phone.

''What a way to start my Sunday,''
I mumbled.

Abhimanyu got no fun 🎀
I can't tutor you today. I have a match.

Seeing his text, I rolled over and got out of the bed to go to the bathroom.

"Maa, was there a mix-up at the hospital? Did you bring home Kumbhokorno's daughter by mistake?'' my brother asked,  his voice laced with humor, as I descended the stairs, shooting him a dirty look. My mom chuckled at the absurdity.

"Maa, are you sure you haven't swapped your son with Duriyadhan?'' I smirked, proud of my quick comeback. My brother scoffed, ''Are you calling me Duriyadhan?'' I replied, ''As far as I know, my mother has only one son, and that's...'' I shrugged, giving him a tight smile.

"You know what you are?'' He sneered, calling me ''Surpanakha!'' I whined, ''Maaa!'' and hurled an empty water bottle at him, which he deftly dodged. With a mischievous glint in his eyes, he stuck out his tongue and taunted , ''Petni!''

''Tui petni!'' I yelled. ''What's going on here?'' My mother appeared from the kitchen, a bowl of freshly fried luchis in her hands, and a hint of annoyance in her voice. ''Ki holo?" she asked, as if to say, ''What's all this commotion?''

"Dada amake mereche!'' I wailed, playing the victim card to perfection. My brother's eyes widened in surprise.

''Ami merechi? Bottle ta ke churlo?'' he asked in disbelief . My mother stepped in, her voice firm but gentle. ''Why are you troubling my child?'' she asked, patting my head soothingly. I flashed a triumphant grin and stuck out my tongue at my brother, who shot me a dirty look.

''Sokale je ektu shanti te cha ta khabo taro kono upay nei. There's no remedy for your constant bickering!'' - my father's voice boomed from the back porch, silencing us instantly. We both feared him the most. You know those stereotypical strict desi dads? He's one of them.

***

At noon, I was practically doing nothing, just staring blankly at my laptop, which was black and shut down. Suddenly, my room's door swung open with a thud. My brother burst in, wearing his jersey.

"Privacy ba knock bole ekta kichu hoy, tui seta janis na bol?'' I said with a hint of sarcasm. He simply shrugged it off.

''I've got a match today, why don't you bring your friend?'' he says, his face breaking into a sly grin. ''I mean, bring Anu.'' He's now beaming like an idiot.

"It's Sunday, I don't want to go anywhere,'' I said, still lying down. ''Just get your lazy ass out of bed,'' he grumbled. ''Anu will never come if she finds out we're going to watch your match,'' I teased, mocking him. He rolled his eyes and mumbled, ''You're useless,'' before storming out of my room.

I stared blankly at my laptop again when my phone buzzed, breaking the silence. Anu's name flashed on the screen.

"Get ready, we're going to watch the game," she said, her tone brooking no argument.

"It's Sunday bhaii, lemme sleep," I muttered, but she cut me off.

"I'm coming to your house in 10 minutes." The line went dead.

"Why are we even here?" I yawned, still groggy from being dragged out of my cozy bed. I had to leave my sweet  'ghum' at home because of this match.

Anu nudges me, "You're so boring, just look at the ground,"  as the cheering grows louder. I follow her gaze to the ground, where one team takes the field, and I squint to see the players wearing Phantoms jerseys - our college team's jersey.

My eyes, without my permission, began to scan the field, and then I spotted him- jersey number 9, engaged in a intense conversation with the coach. His messy hair and broad shoulders made him stand out, commanding attention from everyone around. I was captivated by his serious expression, his face set in determination as he discussed strategy with the coach.

Anu's voice cuts through the noise, irritation evident. "Is that your dada?" she asks, her eyes fixed on someone. "What's he doing here?" I turn to see where she's looking and notice my brother's team taking the field, the crowd erupting in cheers as they chant "HFC" - the Heritage Football Club.

"Which team am I from, then?" I frown, looking at Anu. "Of course, Phantoms," she replies, her tone implying "obviously," making me nod in agreement. As we watch, both teams stand facing each other, my brother  and Abhimanyu standing face to face, their eyes locked in a fierce stare.

"If i knew your dada was playing, I'd have never come," Anu scoffed, making me giggle. "You know what? Dada told me to come watch this match, and he also told me to bring you," I said, laughing. Anu just rolled her eyes in response.

My dada has had a thing for Anu for as long as I can remember. I think it started when Anu's mother passed away and she came to our house for the first time, crying, sobbing, and looking fragile - a far cry from her usual feisty self. He would always try to woo her with cheesy lines, which made Anu cringe so hard she'd do her best to avoid him. But he never gave up, and I can't blame him - I wouldn't mind having her as my boudi (sister-in-law) either.

The match was heating up, with HFC having already scored a goal by the midpoint. In the midst of the action, one of our players was kicked hard from behind and fell to the ground. The crowd gasped in horror as our player crumpled, wincing in pain. It was a clear foul, but the referee failed to call it, allowing the opposing team to continue playing. Our team was outraged, shouting at the referee in protest.

Abhimanyu's face reddened as he confronted the referee, his voice raised in protest. I wouldn't want to be on the receiving end of that anger. Just then my dada stepped in, joining the conversation with the referee. The air was thick with tension, with a mix of emotions simmering.

Anu whispered, "Your dada is such a loser," her voice laced with amusement. I chuckled in agreement, but my smile faltered as Anu's sudden gasp made me glance back at the field. My brother had Abhimanyu's collar in a tight grip, his teammates struggling to pry them apart.

"What's happening?" I asked, my voice tinged with concern.
Anu shrugged, her eyes fixed on the unfolding drama. "No clue."

The referee's flag sliced through the air, signaling halftime. The players parted, the tension dissipating as they headed off the field.