Salman

"First in class and captain of the A team, how does he manage to do that?"

It was one of those painful times of reflection, that Salman endures every now and then. This time it was in the field, right after evening practice. The whole ground was swathed in a deep shade of orange from the evening rays bathing upon the brown gravel, vaguely reflecting Salman's state of helplessness as the sky was hinting early signs of blackness. The first of the semis was a couple of days away and the mid-terms, a week after. The ground was too empty for Salman's liking - he preferred a bustling field, so that he could drown in external confusion, momentarily forgetful of his internal doubts. But it was three hours into after-school time and the hostel kids had finished their evening snack and were back in the study rooms

"probably preparing for their mid-terms. It would be so much fun if I were in hostel too. I could do whatever I want. No permissions for anything."

It was time to get back home. His Hindi special class was over and he was heading back home - this was Salman's version of his daily evening itinerary when questioned by his mother, to accommodate his cricket sessions. As he was passing the primary corridor - behind which was the princi's office, the clock read 6:45. Looking at the clock Salman was covered with pricklies all over his body - the kind that you get when you jump into the cold waters of the swimming pool in a sweltering afternoon - goosebumps in the grown-up language; pricklies in Salman's. The clock needles looked like an evil fang bent at a weird acute angle. Salman was supposed to be home by 6:00. His Hindi special class supposedly lasts three hours - and he was 45 minutes into empty non-explainable space.

"Aio!!! I should have told mom that Hindi class was four hours long. I'm officially going to be one eared today. Mom's going to find out all my lies when she meets the Princi..."

Salman's heart was pumping like an auto rickshaw's exhaust pipe running at 35 kmph. His time was running short, soon he'd reach the bike parking space and in minutes he'll be cycling home. Salman was cursing himself for leaving his watch in his school bag while he was on the field. The watch was too precious for him - a remarkably surprising act of kindness from his otherwise stone-faced insolent father, for Salman's birthday that had passed three weeks ago. But that day, his dad was the last person Salman expected a gift from. Sometimes he would wonder why his dad behaved the way he did. Was he the same from the time he was born? But Salman had his doubts about the secret room where his father turns into a joyful and fun person.

"If only I had the watch on while I was playing. Wait a minute!!! Salman, you probably are the most brilliant in entire Madras da. I'll just change my watch to show 6:00 and act as if I didn't know all the while that my watch was wrong. Oh poor me...now I know why I was 45 minutes early for everything in school today. Perfect plan!!! Mom wouldn't know about the secret cricket, and I have saved the day for yet another tomorrow."


--arvind