Destiny, however, had other plans. For why else, in the seventh
minute of the first half, would the college team captain overthrow the
ball outside the court, where it hit my head as I stood on the sidelines?
Why would I grab the ball in reflex? More than anything, why would
R come to collect it?
'Ball, please,
'she said, panting. I felt paralysed.
'I said ball, please,
'she said. I held on to the ball for an extra half
second. I wanted to look at her a bit longer. I wanted to take a
snapshot of her sweaty face and store it in my mind's camera for life.
I threw the ball at her. She caught it with ease and looked at me.
She could tell from my throw that I knew the game.
'Change your point shooter,
'I said. For some reason, I had
managed to speak in correct English this time.
'What?'she said. She surveyed me from top to bottom. I now
wished I had worn better clothes. I had not changed out of my
interview shirt and pants, both of which the tailor back home had
stitched too loose for me. I looked out of place on the basketball court.
With my folder of certificates, I resembled a hero from those Hindi
films of the seventies—the one who could not find a job. I have a
Bihar state team T-shirt, I wanted to tell her. Of course, in the middle
of a game, and as a first conversation, this was a terrible idea.
'Your shooter is useless,
'I said.
The referee whistled to commence the game. She turned away and
forgot about me faster than her throw reached her team member.
'Here, pass it to me,
'R shouted as she reached the opposition basket.
Her point shooter held the ball and looked around, confused.
'I said here'R screamed so loudly that pigeons flew off the trees in
the lawns.The point shooter passed the ball, R caught it and took a
shot from well beyond the three-point line.
Whoosh! 'The ball went through the basket. The crowd cheered.
They already had a soft spot for R anyway.
The referee announced a break at the ten-minute mark. The college
team led 12-5. R huddled with her team, figuring out their strategy for the next half. As her team meeting ended, she wiped her face and neck
with a towel.
I couldn't take my eyes off her. I forgot I had my own trial in less
than an hour. I only wanted to figure out a way to talk to her a bit
more. Maybe I could tell her she played well. I wondered how to tell
her about my state-level game without coming across as a show-off.
And, more than anything, how would I go beyond five words of
English?
She caught me staring. I wanted to kill myself. She continued to
jgnli directly at me, the towel still around her neck.Then she walked up
to me. A shiver ran down my spine.
I didn't mean to stare, I wanted to tell her. I wondered if she
would scream at me like she had done during the match.
Flunks,
'R said.
She had walked across the court, to thank me?
She was breathing hard. My eyes were glued to hers.
Look away, Madhav, I scolded myself and turned away.
'That was a good tip,
'she said to my left profile.
'Welcome... You...are...good,
'I said. Uttering each word was like
hitting a brick.
'Any other suggestions for the second half? We're losing.'
Yes,
'I said, turning to face her again. I wanted to give her more up
but couldn't in English.'You speak Hindi?'I said.
She looked baffled. Nobody in St. Stephen's had ever asked
anyone that question.