"Arrey Ishu? Seems like you're done for the day."
A girl named Bhavna, sitting in a middle of other young boys and girls, calls out to the short young man in a crop top and a freshly worn shorts, walking into the room where all the boys and girls are huddled together in front of the only T.V. in whole house.
A dull noise emanates from the T.V., and mixes with the low buzz and hums from the group, talking or giggling.
Hair fully messed up, eyes covered by his curly bangs, a tiredness on his face and a limp in his walk, said 'Ishu' comes to the group and promptly drops down next to Mayank, another boy around his own age and leans against him. Mayank puts his arms around Ishan to make him snuggle into himself more.
Bhavna is a little older than them, a very sweet and strict older sister to both the young boys. She softly smiles at the antics of the two literal children.
"Yes, di! Done for the day! Oi! Don't pinch me!" He pouts at Mayank who had a playful smirk on his face.
"Oh you're gonna show off your waist in that crop top, and not expect people to pinch your belly fat?"
"Take that back you two brain-cell man!" Ishan points his finger at the other, "It's not fat, my hips are just plump and wide!" And oh what a diva hair-flip he shows.
"Don't underestimate his hips, Mayu! Men legit get hypnotised by the thumka of that waist." Bhavna giggles at her ow words.
"Yup!" Ishan proudly says, popping the 'P'. "This waist got me around 15000/- today."
"WHAT?"
Mayank's eyes widen, so does Bhavna's and a few others who had got swooped into the antics of the two ever-entertaining boys.
"15000 rupees Ishan? That's so much for one day?"
"Yes I know! Even I'm surprised, I never get this much in one, single day. My highest had been 7500/- till today."
Mayank smiles teasingly, "You're so rich now Ishu? So, a treat when?"
Ishan scowls, "Abbey saale! You're saying as if Ambani himself came and signed me off his property."
"Bitch you are. I don't think anyone from here has ever collected this much in one day!"
Ishan shrugs like a diva and quirks his eyebrows, "Cause none got hips like me!"
Someone from the circle snickers playfully, "OHH! ISHU'S HIPS DON'T LIE!"
And a cacophony of whistles and hooting surrounds the air.
"Ishu Ishu!! Saki saki one time please!"
"No! Favicol se ho jaye ekbaar!"
"Arrey you people stop shouting! Screaming like fools." A girl near the T.V. calls out, quite harshly.
"Why? You jealous that your ugly ass can never get this much money?" Mayank throws at her with a stinky eye.
The girl, Rosy, pinches her lips, "Whatever you say Markande. Anyways who can be better whore than Ishan here?"
"Oh as if you don't fall on men's lap and beg to suck their dick any chance you get!"
"Mayank please leave it." Ishan pulls his hand.
Another girl, Tannu, sitting behind Rosy hit her head, "Stop your horse-mouth Rosy. In this house we don't degrade each other." She nods at Ishan. Ishan gives a grateful smile back.
"But that ass Mayank started—"
"WHATEVER WHOEVER STARTED IT DOESN'T MATTER. NOW STOP." Tannu says finally.
"Now please concentrate on the game, you people." Sonali speaks up. She points at the T.V.
Right!
For which everything started.
"Rohit got out. Fuck man!" Dinu curses dejectedly. He's one of those die-hard fans of Captain Hitman.
And then a series of coos and giggles erupts from the group including Rashi, sitting near the T.V.
"Oh the Prince came to bat aaaahhhhh!!"
"Shubman meri jaan! He's so handsome!"
"How badly I want to wear his sindoor"
"Only in your dreams Nina!"
Ishan looks up gingerly at the T.V. His brain shuts down as he sees the tall figure coming into the camera vision and marching into the field towards the pitch.
Ishan knows, if he carries on looking at the T.V., he will break down. So better not to watch it. He can already feel his head heavy, lips on the verge of wobbling.
He tears his gaze from the T.V. and snuggles more into Mayank's arm, who had his vision locked on the coloured T.V. screen.
The low buzz of the commentators speaking in Hindi reached his ears, all the flowery words praising the Prince of Cricket. It's not helping Ishan to calm down.
No! No! He can't break down here.
He pulls away from Mayank.
"I'm going to bed, Mayu! Feeling a bit tired today."
Mayank immediately frowns, "All okay right? You need medicine?"
"No, no Mayu! It's fine. You know how it is." Ishan gives a droopy smile at his best friend. He gives a peck to his cheeks and gets up, leaving the room, with that sexy yet tired sway of his hips.
Mayank looks worriedly at Bhavna di, who had remained silent through the whole ordeal.
Bhavna nods at him, "I'll check on him. You see the match alright?"
"Okay di!"
Bhavna smiles and caresses his cheek before getting up and trailing after Ishan.
It doesn't take two seconds for Ishan to know who has come and stood at his door. With a leg hitched up on the stool, his back to the door, he is applying moisturiser on his legs.
Oh coming to legs, he needs a shave soon! Ishan thinks.
"Days like this are tough, di!"
He feels a soft hand rubbing his back.
"Was today that rough? You can always ask Amma to not—"
"15000/- di! I couldn't let that go!" Ishan sighs. He rotates himself and hugs Bhavna di tight. She pulls her baby brother towards the bed and gently soothes him, fingers combing through the curly hair. She rocks his body with her own in a soft rhythm.
"How many times today?"
"Three."
"Oh baby!"
"The last one was a group. There were five of them."
Bhavna's heart shatters. She holds him more tightly.
Ishan chuckles, slight wetness in his voice, "Couldn't refuse them di, they agreed to pay whatever Amma asked. And you know, I don't regret anything I do."
"I know that my sher baccha!"
"I know what I'm doing. I did it 'cause I wanted to do it."
"Yes, my baby. You're so brave!"
Bhavna gently kisses atop his head.
"Now go and have a tight sleep, okay?" She gently strokes his cheeks. "Tomorrow is a new day!"
Indeed it is. But it will still be the same for him. As it is for the last eight years of his life. Or was it nine?
Ishan's thoughts fly around this and he sees Bhavna di, leaving his room, closing the door behind her.
With a sigh, Ishan gets up from the bed and goes to stand in front of the dressing table, and sees himself in the mirror.
A reflection. A ghost of his past.
Ishan sits on the stool in front of the mirror.
Maintaining eye contact with the smudged kajal-lined eyes he sees in the mirror, Ishan pulls up his top and discards it on the floor.
He sees the creamy skin in the mirror, beautiful collarbones, plumped hairless chest. And some light reddish scratch marks here and there.
They'll fade out overnight. Ishan knows.
Ishan gently wipes out the kajal and the remaining light foundation with a wiper, freeing his eyes and face and bringing the natural charm out of them. He smiles. He likes this maskless man in front of him. The man, with not so bright flawless skin, with pores and all. His cheeks glow with a natural reddishness, eyelashes curl naturally.
Before the mirror, Ishan goes through his light skin care routine, massaging his skin with the moisturiser and oils. He feels good, taking care of himself like this. He likes looking pretty.
He likes looking pretty for himself.
The electric water kettle beeps off. Ishan switches it off and pours himself a cup of hot water in his favourite ceramic mug and dips a jasmine tea bag, their Amma had brought for him.
Dipping the tea bag in the hot water, he comes to the balcony.
It is now, only, he truly reflects.
Ishan doesn't regret. After all, he has nothing to regret. It was never his choice. He was never given a choice.
He was given a promise though.
He tried clutching on to that promise. But not all promises are kept.
But Ishan is proud that he adapted himself with all the situation he was put into. He will give himself that.
So, Ishan has no regret.
He has a very comfortable place to stay, food, clothes, sometimes lack of clothes, but okay. He manages.
He knows, days will go by. And this will all change. At least that is what he is saying to himself for almost a decade.
But that doesn't mean, he doesn't feel sad. He does. He misses his mumma, bhaiya, to some extend his baba. He misses his few friends back at Bihar.
And also, that lanky sixteen years old boy he wanted to meet on that full moon night.
The world has shifted after that.
Ishan can do nothing now but live is his ghosted past. Wake up every day, do his works, paint himself pretty, put on some appealing clothes, dance on stages and spread his legs for men of whom he will never know the name of.
Before going to bed, Ishan closes his eyes and joins his hands in front Sai Baba's picture he has lovingly hanged on the wall opposite to his bed, to send prayers of hope and love to his long-lost family, to his friends, to the lanky boy and to his future self, as he does every day.
"Keep them all happy, baba! Please keep them all happy."
Before finally sleeping, he also sends a silent prayer, for team India to win the match.
And India does win.
The players won't say it was an easy match. Australia is never one of those easy teams. But, winning the series winning ODI match definitely brings joy.
The team is hollering like a bunch of school kids.
Rohit doesn't stop them jumping on each other's backs and misbehaving in the dugout itself. He just chuckles. The boys are in a dire need of this.
Wankhede has always been special for him. The team makes it more special.
"You saw how I just swept away Cummins?"
"When did you, Rishu bhai? It was Yash!"
"Oh? Just him? What about my five sixes in his overs then, huh?" Said Rishabh Pant knocks at Shubman's head.
"Ow! Bonking me won't change the fact!"
"Accha? And you? Got run out of all things."
KL comes in between the two of them.
"Enough boys! Break it up."
"Bhai see, he's teasing me!"
Shubman sticks his tongue out.
"Abbey Shubman! Put your tongue in and run to see who came to meet you." Jaddu bhai shouts a him.
"Who bhai?"
Jaddu smirks. "Your girlfriend!"
The whole squad teasingly calls out.
Shubman sighs. He knew this would happen. They're playing in Wankhede and of course Sara will come to meet him.
But honestly, he's in no mood. He has a bigger thing in hand to look for.
Without bothering to freshen up, Shubman goes out from the dressing room towards the tunnel. He sees Sara standing at the end, looking radiant in the stadium lights.
He doesn't miss the way her face lights up on seeing him.
At this point, he could only care less.
"Hey Sara!" Shubman particularly avoids a possible incoming hug.
Sara blushes. "Hi! Um.. Actually, I wanted to congratulate you for the win."
Shubman smiles, "Thanks, the team played well today."
"You played well too."
"I scored 34 in 46 balls, Sara, and then got run out." Shubman looks at her unimpressed, "if anything I was below average."
Sara nervously laughed.
"That's okay Shubman, we all have bad days—"
The young cricketer grows impatient. He has other things to do after going back to his hotel, not to nurture a possible crush on him here.
"Oh Sara, how about we talk later. Our bus will be leaving, I need to go back."
Sara just stands dumbfounded downright.
Shubman spends no extra time in taking the photographs from his manager.
"So these are trustworthy, right Seb?"
"Yes, they are Shubman." Sebastian sees a lot deal of emotions working in the bed.
Angry, sad, painful.
"Okay you can leave then."
In the quite night, Shubman goes through the photos. Photos of a beautiful man, in a top and a sequin stitched flowy long skirt, studded earrings and a belly chain dancing in the colourful lights at a bar on a stage. Another photo shows how a man was groping him. Some other photos of him kissing some men, on their laps, hooking his hands inside their belts, into their pants.
A fire pits inside Shubman watching these pictures. He throws away the photos after crumbling them in his fist and scream out in agony. His eyes well up in unshed tears.
"You were supposed to be only mine."
Shubman throws a fist on his bed.
Oh how things changed with his one moment of wrong decision.
Controlling himself he goes to those crumbled up papers and picks up that one sole photo of the beautiful, erogenous man, laughing brightly in the coloured disco lights, movements carefree.
A bittersweet smile plays on Shubman's lips.
But I lost you.
~TBC~