After a month of soft practice we hit the field for our first game, junior team against the senior team. The match had a fairly good attendance. Some girls from Welham Girl’s School were also cheering for us. My sister was leading the pack. The game was a cakewalk and we dominated the juniors completely in the first half. I personally believed that the fifteen minute break in-between two halves of a match could be put to better use than just lying down and listening to a winning coach. So Akshay and I visited the sweet smelling group of girls sitting gracefully besides the touchline. I could see that Akshay and my sister wanted to be alone but that was not going to happen anytime soon, at least not on my vigil. There was a girl in the group taking more than usual interest in the game. Of course that got her my attention.
Some background information:
This is Welhams Girls School. I was standing in the auditorium of one of the most prestigious institutions that impart education to our female counterparts. More importantly inside those walls used to dwell our probable better halves. Yes it’s true our seniors in the past dated them, our juniors in the coming years would date them and we the present lot were already dating them. Such had been the tradition. Boys from Doon High School went out with girls from Welhams. Now I wasn’t there looking for a date. My purpose was much more genuine and obligatory. It had been decided that if I miss the penalty then I would have to assist Robot’s sister, who studies in Welhams, for their founder’s day celebrations.
Sister: Hello bhaiya (brother). Thank you for coming here to help us.
I: Oh it’s no big deal. I would like to meet the in-charge here and sort some minor issues.
Sister: Oh bhaiya that’s for later. First come give me the bag I want to see your dress.
All right you read that right. My ‘dress’, it was just not my day. I had to take part as a male character in one of the theater productions that would be presented on the annual founder’s day celebration. But this was no ordinary play, it was a ballet. Yes girls and sissy boys in skin tight stretch suits dancing to weird tunes which have no bass, no metallic instruments, no wacky hairstyles; just asinine story telling. And to top it all the whole school would be seated in the audience. My image that I had cultivated by tactfully manipulating the limelight and sweating it out on the field would be at an all time high risk. This was more daring then bursting crackers in the principal’s office. But there was no going back. I had lost a bet and I had to honor my part of the bargain.