💖Bound by Runs and Dreams💖

Chapter 5: The Game Within the Game🏏

The sun was blazing down on the cricket field, making the air thick with heat and anticipation. For Ruturaj Gaikwad, it was just another Ranji Trophy match day, yet the stakes always felt high.

His cricketing journey had been filled with such moments—days when his performance could change the course of his career, push him closer to the dream of solidifying his place in the Indian team. Aaj ka match especially important tha. Not just because it was a Ranji match, but because his mind had been racing since the previous night’s encounter.

Utkarsha Pawar’s words rang in his ears as he adjusted his gloves and prepared to face the first delivery. "Speed, accuracy, aur batter ko confuse karne ka mazaa hi kuch aur hai." There was a spark in her voice that had struck a chord with him. It wasn’t every day that someone got him to stop and think about the essence of the game.

Rahul, his best friend, had come to support him, as always. He was sitting in the stands, yelling words of encouragement. "Rutu, maar ke aana bhai! Tu to champion hai!" Rahul was always like that—loud, energetic, and full of life.

But today, Ruturaj was quieter than usual, more introspective. As the bowler began his run-up, the entire stadium seemed to hold its breath, but in Ruturaj’s mind, there was a different kind of calm. "Focus, ball ko dekho. Timing perfect honi chahiye," he reminded himself.

The ball was released, angling toward his pads—just where he liked it. With a flick of his wrists, he sent it racing toward the boundary. The crowd erupted, but Ruturaj barely registered the noise. His mind was already on the next delivery. Cricket was a mental game as much as it was physical, and he knew he had to stay sharp.

But no matter how much he tried, his thoughts kept returning to the conversation he’d had with Utkarsha. "Fast bowler hone ka pressure alag hi hota hai," she had said. Ruturaj had always admired bowlers for the mental strength it took to bowl under pressure, especially in tight situations.

"She’s got that intensity," he thought. "Jis tarah se she spoke about the game, it’s clear she’s got passion. Par kya hum kabhi aur baat karenge?"
_______________________________

Utkarsha’s Day

Utkarsha was having her own kind of pressure-filled day at the cricket academy. Today’s training session was no ordinary one. She was bowling to some of the younger players, setting an example for the aspiring fast bowlers who looked up to her.

Her coach, Mr. Kulkarni, stood nearby, silently observing her every move. "In-swing practice karte raho. Pichle match mein thoda slow tha pace," he had said earlier that morning.

"Aaj sab kuch perfect hona chahiye," Utkarsha whispered to herself as she took her run-up.

Her first delivery zipped past the batter, swinging just enough to miss the edge of the bat. A smile tugged at her lips. This was where she felt alive—on the pitch, with the ball in hand, ready to challenge the batter. Her goal was clear: make it to the Indian women’s team, represent her country, and prove that she belonged at the highest level.

But today, as she bowled, a strange restlessness nagged at her. Her thoughts, usually razor-sharp and focused, kept drifting back to the café, to Ruturaj. It wasn’t that she was distracted, but there was something about their brief interaction that had left an impression on her.

"Ruturaj Gaikwad," she thought, adjusting her grip on the ball. "He’s not just a cricketer. He’s humble, thoughtful." It was rare to meet someone from the same profession who understood the pressure, the sacrifices, and the constant grind of cricket life.

Utkarsha bowled her next delivery, a sharp in-swinger that knocked the stumps over. Her teammates clapped in approval, but Utkarsha barely registered it. She walked back to her mark, lost in thought.