First Love never dies

The following Short Story is excerpted from Sivaram Hariharan's book BEES: A Hive of Short Stories.

Rahul Satyan took his guard at the crease, helped on by the umpire and then assumed his right-handed batting stance. This would be the last over of the 2007 ICCI knockout tournament at the SCG. Bhaarath had scraped through to the big show somehow after edging past other teams and now faced mighty Australia in the finals. Chasing 258 to win in the allocated 50 overs, Bhaarath was precariously placed at 254 for the loss of nine wickets at the start of the 50^th over. Rahul tapped his bat lightly on the pitch and waited for the ‘Destroyer’ as they lovingly called Shaun Elders, the feared spearhead of the vaunted Australian pace attack. He was very nervous and sweat was pouring down his forehead. It was Elders who had ripped through the mercurial Bhaarateeya batting in his second spell after Bhaarath was comfortably cruising at 245 for 3 at the end of the 44^th over. In a space of four overs, the Destroyer had spun Bhaarath on its heels and now they were tottering towards an all-too-familiar snatching of an improbable defeat from the jaws of victory. Rahul, who had come in at the fall of the first wicket at 23, was the lone anchor of the Bhaarateeya reply with a well-hit 103. He was Bhaarath’s only hope as the non-striker, leg spinner Hari Singh, was a dud with the bat. Rahul focused hard as Elders rushed in to deliver his accurate and lightning fast deadly thunderbolts. The hopes of a billion plus Bhaarateeyas rested squarely on him.

Ball 49.1

An unplayable ball, which only the likes of Elders could produce, the delivery pitched at good length just outside the off-stump and whizzed past Rahul’s edge just as he withdrew his bat in the nick of time. Elders rubbed his hair with his hands in disappointment. That was a close call indeed. A big aaah went around the stands as the Australian fans despaired collectively at the close call. But the batsman was visibly relieved. He was still alive and Bhaarath could still win. In this tense situation, he looked around for any signs of inspiration. His team-mates in the pavilion also looked visibly tensed. Captain Vivek Amarnath had buried his face in his palms. As Elders turned around at the top of his bowling mark, Rahul knew that he had to find the inspiration within himself, an inspiration to create history with one stroke of the bat. All his life he had been a survivor and a fighter and cricket was just an extension of his life. He had survived against all odds after going through infinite disasters that could have easily put down those with weaker wills. His decision to become a cricket player at the age of 25 was one such survival move.

Ball 49.2

It was another Elders’s magical delivery much similar to the previous one. When Rahul again withdrew in the nick of time, the ball just whizzed past the off-stump. Another massive sigh rippled across the stadium and again Rahul issued an audible sigh of relief. He had survived once more and again his thoughts drifted back to the past. Rahul had started his sporting life at the age of 13 not as a cricketer but as a hockey player. And he had been a very good one. Endowed with superb reflexes, body feints, and above par hand to eye coordination, he excelled in Bhaarath’s national sport with an all round display. He could attack, defend and also keep the goal brilliantly. He had a sledgehammer of a penalty corner drive and his dribbling was immaculate. His field vision was second to none and all his coaches predicted another Dhyan Chand in the making for Bhaarath. But hockey was also the cause of much heartbreak for Rahul.

Ball 49.3

Elders charged in like a diesel loco and this time the delivery was short pitched and Rahul reared back in time as the ball flashed past his face into the hands of wicket keeper David Chalmers. Rahul knew that Elders had delivered this bouncer only to unsettle him and he could expect a deadlier selection from Elders’s copious arsenal, the next time around. Once again his thoughts switched back to his hockey days. As a precocious teenager, Rahul had represented his state in the sub-junior and the junior levels, but at the national level, he was only an extra. In spite of his enormous talent, Rahul could never make it to the starting 11 of the national side of any age bracket and the reason for this was nothing short of politics. Rahul’s father was just a middle class battler, an employee of the Life Insurance Corporation of Bhaarath and consequently had no influence beyond his small circle of friends and work colleagues. It was always heartbreak for the young man whenever the national side was announced. But he still stuck to his sport with dedication and devot

Ball 49.4

Elders charged in again to deliver a beautiful yorker this time and Rahul brought down his bat just in the nick of time. Else, his middle stump would have shattered and gone flying into outer space. That was another close call and Rahul was visibly rattled. His thoughts again went back to the past as Elders slowly headed back to the top of his long bowling mark, rubbing the ball furiously on his pants. After graduation, Rahul had joined the Bhaarateeya Railways, who employed him for his hockey skills. He represented the railways in the various national tournaments with distinction and yet fell short of making the national senior side. Each Champions trophy, Olympics and FIFA world cup was dejection all over again. But he still did not give up. In the Beighton Cup at Calcutta, he played extraordinary hockey and helped the Railways to make it to the finals where they lost to the Services on Penalty strokes. But as usual, he somehow failed to catch the eye of the selectors. The usual reason was that he needed more experience. But that year was the final straw that broke the proverbial camel’s back of Rahul’s hockey.

Ball 49.5

The ball reared up like a black mamba from good length and hit him straight on his face. Rahul, who was wearing no helmet, was immediately knocked to the ground by the impact of the delivery. He writhed in pain as he covered his bloodied face with his palms. He could hardly comprehend what was going around him as the pain chewed into his facial bones and his nose was splattered. By the time he regained himself, he was in the dressing room surrounded by the team medico and fellow team-mates. Rahul once again switched himself to the past. It was the year 2004 when Rahul gave up hockey in total frustration and quit his job from the Bhaarateeya Railways to the chagrin of his family and fiancée. He had now decided to switch his allegiance to cricket. Cricket was where all the big money and glory lay and Rahul was determined to put his superior sporting abilities towards this end. One of the other reasons was the enormous financial pressure on Rahul’s family due to the impending wedding of Rahul’s younger sister. To compound this, Rahul’s father, Satyan Siva, was a compulsive gambler at the Mahalaxmi horse races and had no savings amassed for a rainy day. So the onus was squarely on Rahul’s young shoulders to come up with the dahej (dowry) money, a must in most of these opulent weddings of his particular Dakshin Bhaarateeya community. Unlike cricket, there was no big money in hockey and that’s why he decided to make the switch. Rahul had dabbled in cricket now and then and had very high batting abilities. He also possessed the tough and hardy confidence of making it good. Jo bhi hoga dekha jayega… was his motto.

In the next 12 months, he honed up his batting skills at the Matunga Gymkhana. It was then that he made the pact with the Devil and this ended up with his exasperated fiancée ditching him and marrying a rich Wall Street software professional. Rahul had simply decided to take the short cut. He had approached the local MLA/thug Pandurang Patil for a spot in the Mumbai Ranji side and was promised one for an exchange of 10 lakh rupees. Rahul then amassed whatever meagre savings he had and this came to only about 50,000 Rupees. The rest of the money he borrowed from a local mafia loan shark, Romeo Akhtar, with a three-year window to return the money. By that time, Rahul would end up owing Romeo about 60 lakhs, including the accrued interest. Rahul knew that he had to somehow break into the Bhaarateeya team in that timeframe as that was where the big money lay. It would be then be Makkan (as they said in Bambaiyya Hindi) for him to even make a crore as long as he played along with some bookies now and then. Romeo himself expected this out of Rahul. Anyway the clock was ticking for the young man. If he did not return the money, Rahul would lose his house and would have his knees shattered and his right palm amputated and he knew that Romeo would surely keep his promise.

Rahul batted like a man possessed and within a span of two years made it to the national team. But he had also managed to pull some strings along the way. Once he made it to the Bhaarateeya test side, there was no looking back for him. Now he was on the verge of cricketing glory at this ICCI tournament. A victory here would take care of all his debts in one stroke and he could get the dreaded Mafia off his back. Of course the adulation, fame and fortune that followed was no less an incentive. As Rahul drifted back to the present, he could overhear Captain Amarnath discussing with team manager Milind Joshi on the merits of declaring Rahul Retired Hurt and throwing in the towel. It was then that he screamed, ‘I’m going back to play the last ball skipper. I can do it. We are not going to wimp out of this.’

‘Calm down man, you are in no condition to play,’ Amarnath gripped Rahul’s hands and for the next few minutes a heated debate raged on whether to declare Rahul as Retired Hurt or have him go back into the field for one more crack at glory. Suddenly, Rahul jumped up from his stretcher and grabbed his captain by his shoulders. ‘Send me in my captain. This one is for all of us. Jai Hind.’

And what happened next would go down the annals of international cricket as one of the most courageous act by a player for his country. The entire stadium gave Rahul a rousing standing ovation as he walked in with a heavily bandaged face with his eyes visible through slits of the dressing. He was still bleeding from his nose as he took guard and waited for the Destroyer to bowl the final ball of this match.

Ball 49.6

Elders was in no mood for any mercy even though he had made an astounding gesture of sportsmanship by shaking Rahul’s hand before he went on his way to the top of his bowling mark. The equation was 4 runs to win in one ball and as Elders came thundering in, it seemed to Rahul as if the skies were tumbling down on him. When the ball finally left the Destroyer’s hand Rahul somehow had a premonition that this would be a replica of the earlier ball that had floored him and this time he was ready for hit. In one magnificent move, Rahul reared back on his back foot and hooked the ball over the outstretched arms of the leg slip fielder. The ball fell just short of the boundary ropes and hit the advertisement boards with a thud. Bhaarath had won the match and this was surely one of the finest moments of cricket and of personal courage. The entire stadium including the Australian team burst into a thunderous applause for the wounded hero.

Rahul was drowned by his ecstatic team-mates and for a while they had all totally forgotten about his splattered nose. Rahul was too numb with excitement to feel the pain and it was only during the post match awards that he grimaced while accepting the man of the match award. That night, as he lay on his bed, alone in his hotel room, Rahul felt on top of the world. But suddenly his attention was caught by his lucky charm: his hockey stick that he always carried with him. And then he drifted into a dream, one that he always cherished and one that would be with him till his last breath. It was the finals of the hockey world cup and Bhaarath was tied 2-2 with archrivals Pakistan with just seconds to go before the final hooter. Bhaarath had earned a penalty corner and Rahul was the striker. Rahul had scored both the two earlier Bhaarateeya field goals and now was on the verge of a hat trick if he could get the shot past the tight Pakistani defence and the world’s best penalty corner saving goalkeeper, Shoab Abbas. He was totally focused as he waited for the ball at the top of the striking circle. And then he saw the ball coming to the stopper, Dhruv Deol who made a crisp job of it. Rahul then unleashed his trademark bullet drive with the marksmanship of an Olympic pistol shooter. The next instant the ball had arrowed through the narrow gap in the Pakistani defence and between the goalkeeper’s pads, getting a slight deflection and tore through the back of the net. Bhaarath was the world hockey champion and had regained all their formal glory and Rahul saw himself lifting the coveted trophy and his eyes were moist.

The next morning, Rahul was discovered dead by his team-mates. He had died in his sleep due to a blood clot from the nose wound that had entered his brain. His hockey stick was still clasped to his chest and there was a beautiful smile on his handsome face. Hockey was forever his first love.

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This story laments the demise of Bhaarateeya hockey due to moneyed cricket and countless hockey players like Rahul whose talents are nipped in the bud by poisonous politics. This story is also dedicated to the heroic display of Bhaarateeya bowler Anil Kumble who set a fine example of courage in the 2002 Bhaarath-WI test series at the Caribbean where he bowled fearleslly with a broken jaw.

Shiva IYER aka Dr. Sivaram Hariharan

https://sites.google.com/site/omsriguru/

Copyright © 2005 - 2011 by Sivaram Hariharan. No part of this Short-Story shall be reproduced in any part, form, or manner without explicit written permission of the author Sivaram Hariharan.