Freaky Chakra

Ten months have passed, and a lot has changed. Let me take you through it, in the order it all unfolded. Two weeks after that adventurous night, a postcard arrived at our school. It was addressed to the four of us. The picture was ordinary—just a cluster of palm trees and dates—but the message on the back made us burst out laughing: “Chips business doing great.” No prizes for guessing who sent that. Then came the big shocker—Panchimda won a lottery. He still continues to work at the school though. He bought a massive TV for his village school so everyone there can watch Pushpak’s matches in full glory. He even set up a sports fund for young local talent. By the way he sports a Rolex watch on his wrist nowadays.  The boards went by smoothly, and Yash and I are vying for the top rank. I can see a couple of ego issues springing up in the distant future. Nah, just kidding, Yash has no problems losing to me. Rahul’s dad, Brijraj Patel, made headlines when he finally inaugurated the long...

Time: The next day, 9:00 AM Everyone looked half-dead in class. Bloodshot eyes, heads buried in arms, the occasional groan. How long did that party even last? I wondered. A few people were conspicuous by their absence—Lena, Miara, Rahul. No surprise there. I wasn’t feeling much better myself. Seventeen shots—that number alone made my stomach churn. Lesson learned, the hard way. But still, there was no way I could skip class. The Boards were coming up. Well, who was I kidding—Boards or no Boards, I couldn’t miss seeing Yash. We smiled at each other across the room. That tiny grin was enough to wake me up more than coffee. Maybe next time we had a pop quiz, I’d find a way to distract him and finally outscore him. Old habits die hard, I guess. When roll call began, the room stirred awake like zombies trying to remember they were human. “Cheryl Mathew…” — Present. “Dinesh Verma…” — Present. “Miara… Miara… Miara Boss…” No reply. Miara was absent. Word was, she and her parents had flown off ...

Rewind rewind rewind: Time: 5:15 PM “Hey Miara, think your dad will lend us the Porsche tonight?” Lena asked, her eyes gleaming.  “Sure, let me check.” Miara speed-dialed her father. “Daddy, can I please borrow the Porsche for tonight?” A quick yes later, she turned back with a grin. “Done, Lena. You’ve got the car. So what’s the plan?”  “Well,” Lena said with a sly smile, “I was hoping Yash and I could take it for a spin after the party.”  Miara arched an eyebrow. “Careful. I get the feeling he’s leaning a bit too much toward that nerd, Meera. She’s gorgeous—though she doesn’t know it—and add brains on top of that.” Lena smirked despite her irritation. “Trust me. After tonight’s ride, he won’t even remember Meera. The only side he’ll be leaning on is the Lena side. Get it?” Miara didn’t get it, but she laughed anyway. Lena could be scary at times. As if an answer to her prayers, Rima came running to them with gossip that was music to Lena’s ears, “You guys are not going ...

Time: same day, 9:30 PM Rahul had dropped the three of us off at Kailashnagar. Yash offered to walk us home and then catch a bus back. I wasn’t complaining—this meant a little me-time with Yash. As we reached Priya’s house, Yash said “Meera can I have a word with you?” Priya caught on instantly. “Okay, I’ll leave you guys to it. Thanks, Yash, for today—it was actually fun.”  “Likewise and by the way Priya, you are a rockstar” he called out She laughed, waved, and disappeared inside. Yash then turned to me, “So Meera, howwww serious are you about Priya?” “Oh, not again!” I groaned, stamping my foot.  “Relax, I was just messing with you. I know you’re straight” His grin was pure mischief. “How exactly?” I shot back, half-indignant. “Well, wasn’t it obvious the first day we met? C’mon you could stare at a guy like that only if you were straight. And then there were...other vibes” I wasn’t sure whether to be embarrassed at being so transparent, or relieved.  “So you are sayin...

Time: same day, 10:00 PM The match had come right down to the wire. Four balls left. Eight runs needed. The opposition had tightened the bowling, and fielders were now strategically placed to cut off any boundary that might come off Pushpak’s bat. Singles weren’t an option—his partner was a tail-ender, unlikely to bring in the big shots. Outside the electronics showroom at Brigade road, the crowd thickened and watched excitedly as Dilip Shastri continued his live commentary, “The next ball, Salman to Pushpak, 2 runs, good length ball outside off, Pushpak belts it into the gap at long off and Sanjay has some ground to cover, some good running from tail ender Karthik.” 6 more runs to go and 3 balls left “Peter to Pushpak, no run, tossed up delivery outside off, Pushpak shimmies down the track and gets beaten in the flight as he adjusts and smothers it to the off side” 2 balls left Pushpak signaled for a timeout, sipping water. He wasn’t thirsty—he just needed a moment to clear his head. ...

Time: back to present day, 8:00 PM Okay, so what do we do with him?” I asked. “Is he dead?” Yash said. “I don’t think so,” I replied. “Oh, so now you’re a doctor?” Rahul shot back. “I mean, I felt a pulse—at the neck,” I said. “Right. We’re touching now,” Rahul muttered, exasperated. “Your prints are on him. You could go to jail for murder,” he warned, making me wonder if I’d been a fool to check whether this total stranger was alive. “Stop jumping the gun” said Yash to Rahul “Wait a minute what is this bag, is this yours?” asked Rahul  “Nope, mine is in the back seat.” I replied “What’s inside” asked Yash “I’m not looking, it could be a bomb” said Rahul “Don’t be such a wuss,” said Yash as he opened up the kit  We stood dumbfounded for a moment Staring back at us from the kit were bundles of money. “Dude, this is messed up,” Rahul whispered, panicking and turning away from the car. “He could be a hawala agent, there could be underworld kingpins looking for him” cried Rahul “W...

Rewind: 5 PM, the previous day "Alright girls, see you all tomorrow at the stadium,” chirped Komal as she bounced out of the hostel gates. Komal—or Nishi, as her close friends and family called her—was bubbling with excitement. Tomorrow’s match wasn’t just another game; it was a chance to tilt fate in her favor. If she could get her father to come along, maybe he would finally see Pushpak the way she did. After all, her father adored cricket, and if Pushpak managed to shine on the field, it might do more than soften his heart. It might tickle his wallet too. Her father, despite being comfortably wealthy, was famous for his miserly ways. He could haggle with a vegetable vendor for ten rupees and still feel victorious. For a man like that, the thought of a successful cricketer as a son-in-law meant more than just prestige—it meant endorsements, prize money, and perhaps even a free box seat at matches. That kind of arithmetic might just work in Pushpak’s favor. Of course, in the mean...