As I read the newspaper in the morning, I was filled with hopelessness.

‘Munir Saran-hitched!’ the headline in the magazine section slapped me hard in my face. The ace cricketer finds a match in Kanupriya Bhami, approved by his parents- the article was accompanied by a couple of photos of the ceremony as well. 

Was this the reason why for the whole of last week he ‘couldnt’ take my phone call? I felt deeply shortchanged. 

Nonetheless, I had dragged myself to the field for practices; a small-town girl had only her talent and hard work to fall back on. 

****

I knock, hesitate, and then knock again. I’m restless and perspiring. Oh, the Delhi heat!

He had told me a hundred times, ‘I am yours forever Mana. I’m sure I’ll be able to convince my father.’ Even as recently as our last meeting, he had reiterated. 

No... no... no. I need to do something about this. His father is the chairman of the Board, a mighty man all right, but I’m sure there’ll be another way. 

I had messaged him in the afternoon that I need to meet and waited for his revert. 

‘Come in the evening at our regular.’ he messaged at 4:00 pm. 

And now standing at his door, I felt unsure of myself. I know how everything is going to unfold; it has done so a number of times already.  Should I have come here alone like this now?

As I’m about to turn and leave, he is at the door - fresh out of the shower it seems. His hair is damp and his skin has droplets of water tracing their own paths sensuously. 

‘Hi beautiful’, he smiles as he looks at me. 

‘I...I am...I want...’, I mumble like a silly child caught stealing red-handed. 

‘I’m just back from the nets.’ He notices my hesitation. 

‘Come in.’ He holds me by the arm and takes me in. I’m aware of the door being closed behind me. Slowly I am gaining myself. 

He pulls me to him... so close that my breasts bristle against his chest. My silk top is unable to contain the crazy ripples that surge in me; a sweet desire soars up from my sudden wetness. I’m alive in every hair on my skin. 

He tilts my face up, his lips force mine to part and he pushes his tongue inside my mouth even as his other arm encircles my waist. Our breaths get mingled in a rhythm of ecstasy and I’m intoxicated, losing myself by the second. I look into his eyes, searching for love; instead, as always, I find desire. 

For a moment my mind checks me; the lust in his eyes is revolting.

‘You wanted to talk something?’, he mumbles.

‘I...I  um... I....’ I am incoherent as his fingers unzip my top. 

I hardly notice when we moved into the bedroom and now as he is on me in the bed, I realise that my body is more than willing to take him in as he takes off my clothes. 

His kiss on my bare shoulder fires me right to my navel and below! 

I’m aware of his hardness pushing against my thighs and I open them, letting him slide into my velvet. From then on it's as if countless crackers are bursting inside me by the moment! 

My body is matching his thrust with a hunger that I did not appreciate. 

‘Oh, I’ve needed you so long Mana.’ I hear him whisper in my hair as he pushes harder inside me. 

I have no cares anymore. My body is doing what it’s supposed to.

After an eternity the desire ebbs and he looks spent and satiated. 

‘Mana this was great!’ he smiles, still naked, sitting propped up against the pillows in the bed. I am already dressed and sitting on the sofa chair across the bed. 

‘Munir what was the newspaper headline? What about us?’ I do not forget to smile as I say this. 

‘Mana this is only for the media and relatives. You know how much I love you.’

‘When are you going to talk to your father then?’

‘Give me time Mana. Papa cannot fix you a place in the Team just like that.’ he spreads his hands out. 

I did not bargain for this; today was our nineteenth meeting in this room. 

‘How much more time Munir?’

‘That I don’t know.’ He shrugs his shoulders and doesn’t meet my eyes. 

‘Okay.’ I say simply and get up. He looks keenly at me to read my reaction. I look casually around for that one thing that’s sure to be there in the room.

There it is, leaning against the cabinet. 

I get up easy, pick the bat, hold it tight, and without another word strike with all my strength on his right knee. Then on the left knee. He screams in pain but only the sound of cracking knee-balls echos in my ears. There isn’t any open wound.

I look at him and shrug slightly; I was left with no choice. 

I slip out of his room in a blink, look both sides in the corridor, and walk steadily towards the stairs. 

I take out my Nokia feature phone and dial Ajita Sharma, the androgynous Women’s India Captain; she had appeared much interested in me at the party. 

I swiftly descend the stairs from the fifth floor; after all, I’m a fit and promising medium-pacer; so what if I still ‘can’t’ use a smartphone!