My Life's Compass

Chapter 6

As the first light of dawn crept through the curtains, Shubman, with a yawn and a stretch, rose from his bed. The day beckoned with promises and possibilities. He donned his gear and made his way to the cricket ground, where the dew still clung to the blades of grass, glistening under the soft morning sun.

Upon his arrival, he was greeted by the sight of Gautham Gambhir, the coach whose presence commanded respect and admiration. "Good morning, sir," Shubman greeted with a respectful nod, his voice carrying the enthusiasm of a new day.

Gautham turned, a smile playing on his lips as he responded, "Good morning, young man." His words were an affirmation, a recognition of the potential he saw in Shubman. The young cricketer's smile broadened, and as his teammates joined them, the ground came alive with the sounds of practice.

Shubman took his stance at the crease, his bat feeling like an extension of his own body. Each stroke he played was a melody, and Gautham, watching intently, couldn't help but praise, "Very good, Shubman. Nice strokes." The words were simple, yet they filled Shubman with a sense of pride and determination.

Amidst the camaraderie, Kamlesh playfully shoulder-bumped Shubman, a silent acknowledgment of his skill. The morning practice continued, a symphony of bats and balls, until the sun climbed higher, and hunger began to make itself known.

"DK bhai, I am hungry," Kamlesh voiced the collective sentiment. Dinesh, ever the practical one, suggested, "Go ask GG sir. If he allows, then we can go for lunch."

Kamlesh approached Gautham with a hopeful look. "Sir, can we go for lunch?" he asked. Gautham, understanding the needs of his team, agreed, "Yeah, okay. DK, come here."

Dinesh hurried over, and Gautham instructed, "Take your lunch break and rest for a while, and we will come back to practice in the evening." With a nod of understanding, Dinesh relayed the message, and the team dispersed for a much-needed respite.

Lunch was a quiet affair, the silence speaking volumes of their exertion. Afterwards, Shubman retreated to his room, the fatigue of the morning weighing heavily on his eyelids. He lay on his bed, allowing the tranquility of the room to wash over him, when suddenly, his phone pierced the silence.

"Hello?" Shubman answered, his voice barely above a whisper, betraying his exhaustion.

Anvi's voice came through, concerned yet cheerful. "Hey, Maan. Practice?" she inquired.

"Yes, Anvi, practice since morning. Completely drained out. Again at 7:00 pm we have fielding practice," Shubman replied, the tiredness evident in his tone.

"Practice well, Maan, you will perform the best," Anvi encouraged, her words a balm to his weary spirit.

"I know. Now where are you?" Shubman asked, finding comfort in the normalcy of their conversation.

"College. Lunch break was going on, so thought of calling you," Anvi shared. The conversation meandered to family and friends, to the mundane and the amusing, until Anvi had to leave, promising, "Chal, try calling in the night, I want to show you something. Bye."

The day rolled on, and practice resumed with renewed vigor. Kamlesh's voice broke through Shubman's brief rest, "Broo... Practice."

With a groan, Shubman changed into his practice jerseys, and the fielding drills began. The evening stretched on, each catch and throw sapping the remaining energy from his limbs.

As the stars began to twinkle in the night sky, signaling the end of another day of hard work, Shubman's phone rang once more. It was Ishan, his friend and confidant, whose voice carried the warmth of a thousand suns.