The Cricketer's Jockey (#MyStoryIndia) (#MissionDesi)

Chapter 2.

There was a time when it was hard to send even an important news from one place to another. Our ancestors used pigeons and our great-grandparents came with the idea of post services. But gone are the days of longing for a single letter from your loved ones. Now, you are in the world of Skype, facebook, twitter. Your loved ones are just a single click away. Until this day, I thought the same. Until the day, I became temporary trending subject.

My facebook page had gained more likes in past twelve hours than it did in past year. There were almost 50 messages in my inbox asking me, how I felt about it. (Maa ki aankh! I commented reading those emails.). Some even said that I looked cute when I was unconscious. (Ullu ke patthe! I am damn sure they would say the same first if Deepika Padukone has fainted, instead of calling for doctors.)The video on youtube had 10,000+ viewers. Even to me, it all looked like hyperbolized.

"This is so stupid." I shut down my laptop and switched off the phone.

"Yeah. Don't they have something important to show?" Nuts said.

Now, she was talking seriously.

"Guess what? Hiking petrol price doesn't hold much entertainment than hit spectator."

"A cute spectator." Nuts added and smiled.

"Eww. Nuts, how much times I have to tell you that I am not cute. I am smart and intelligent." I folded my arms. I was relieved from the change of subject.

"Whatever. Now please go and brush your teeth. I can't take that bad smell anymore." She scrunched her nose. I stuck out my tongue and proceed to the bathroom.

Nuts, Nityapriya Dasgupta, was a great friend. A little bit weird and moody, but that's what I liked the most about her. Came from Indore four years ago, She had lived in Bombay all alone since the day. Nuts tackled advertising department in the same radio station I worked. Two years older than me, it was her who took my first audition. She challenged me to go beyond my limits and to come out of my safe environment. Before meeting her, I was this gujju girl with a journalism degree, good voice and streaming ideas. She was the one who taught me how to properly implement them and her wilderness was infectious enough to convert me one like her.

"Umm. Aunty, these katchoris and khaman are awesome." Nuts mumble, taking the bite of katchori.

"Reva de, chibavali. Even a sparrow eats more than you." My mother gave the tea kettle to me and took a seat beside Nuts.

Needless to say, like any Indian mother, she loved to make us eat beyond our appetites limit and always complained how less we ate.

Mom, Nuts and I were eating the breakfast when dad joined us after completing his pooja. He wasn't in much of a spirituality but liked to pray to Lord Shiva every morning. He sat beside me and leaped to the newspaper. Surprisingly, none of my parents had talked to me about yesterday night's incident.; but Nuts had told me that they were worried when they saw it on Tv, but after we returned they were cool. Her dad had even asked whether or not they still had that ball. Now, when he was reading the papers, his expression contained amusement and was trying to suppress his laughter.

"Good morning Dad!" I greeted.

He looked up and just nodded. His lips firmly pressed. My mother squeezed her arm and mouthed, 'Let it be.'

"So, you don't care?" She asked loudly.

Her father chuckled.

"Of course, we don't care. It's not like you are found with drugs. It's a funny situation. Enjoy the attention, beta."

Wow, my dad was actually cool and he was right somehow. Why should I take so much stress? It wasn't a life-death situation. 'Enjoy the situation.' I muttered under my breathe. That made me a little bit relaxed too. Now I knew, how simple words from your father can take away all your worries. If he trusts you, you don't need anyone else to get convinced.