Clean Bowled - A story of two identical souls.

6.

Inline comments are much invited.

Prithvi

Prithvi, 11 years old.

Two days ago, I got selected for the school cricket team. Coach Sir said I am a fair player and have a future in cricket. Akhil, who came to selection since I was approaching, got selected too. Bhalla uncle's little shit has luck after all.

I curse. Yes. Do I feel guilty? No.

Soniyo cheered for me. Her infectious enthusiasm and unwavering support transformed the mundane cricket selection match into a vibrant canvas of companionship.

I couldn't help but steal glances at her, finding inspiration in the genuine smile that adorned her face.

Her gestures were subtle yet powerful, a testament to the unspoken connection between us. With each well-timed clap or an exuberant shout, she became a beacon of encouragement, guiding me through the challenges of the practice session.

I felt a surge of energy-a newfound determination fueled by the knowledge that someone believed in me wholeheartedly.

My family never considers cricket a career.

Yesterday, after getting the final call from Coach sir that I had been selected for the inter-school cricket championship, which was going to happen in three days, I went to my dad to buy me a cricket bat.

"Why do you need to play cricket?" He shouted, making me flinch. He has a hoarse voice, and due to screaming, it gets worse. I am a coward, I know.

He wants me to focus on studies, forgetting sports and all shit-his words always. He wants me to study hard so I'll become a great doctor like him and Mom.

I don't want to be.

It's not that my father doesn't understand me; the problem is, he doesn't want to. It's as if he's set on a predetermined script, and my desires and dreams are nothing more than inconvenient deviations. The sole aspiration he harbors for me is etched in the word 'doctor,' and there seems to be no room for negotiation.

"Dad, I got selected for the school cricket team, and we are going to..."

"Either you start focusing on studies or I'll stop sending you to school," he dictated.

With a hopeful heart and the anticipation of shared joy, I approached him, eager to unveil my triumph. I thought he would be thrilled to know that I'm going to play in the inter-school cricket tournament.

I got a trophy of my own, just like Di got for her state-level science quiz competition, but the words seemed to fall on deaf ears.

Yet, despite the emotional turmoil, the decision to leave school is not an option for me. It's not that I have this burning desire to immerse myself in studies. No, it's not that at all.

Sure, I can go along with the cricket charade if that's what Dad wants, but compromising on Soniyo? That's a line I'm not willing to cross.

My reluctance was not a rebellion against education itself but a poignant acknowledgment of the void that would be left behind without Soniyo's presence.

"Dad, just one time."

"Go to your room and sleep. I will be checking your test answers tomorrow." The discussion ends there.