I gestured frantically for the cameraman to cut me some slack, throwing up a cross sign with my hands. But instead of backing off, the audience seemed to find my struggle amusing, erupting into laughter.
"Well, it seems our young lad is not exactly thrilled about his sudden popularity, huh, Gaurav?"
"Indeed, Irfan. But he's in for a wild ride. Once the internet gets hold of this, his social media accounts are going to be flooded. Poor guy won't know what hit him!"
"Hey, let's save the stand-up routine for the after-party, shall we? Back to cricket commentary, where we actually earn our keep."
"Couldn't agree more, bhai."
As the attention finally shifted away, I breathed a sigh of relief and closed my eyes, savoring the moment of anonymity. But just as I began to relax, WHAM! Something hit my hand with surprising force. Startled, I snapped my eyes open to find a cricket ball sitting in my lap.
I glanced over at Natasha, who was wearing a mischievous grin.
"What?" I mouthed, trying to decipher her expression.
Meanwhile, in the commentary box: "And there goes another six from Kabir! But wait, who's that catching the ball in the stands? Oh, it's our mystery man from earlier! Looks like he's becoming the real star attraction tonight!"
"Seriously, can't I catch a break?" I grumbled, glaring at the cricket ball like it had personally offended me.
I pondered its value for a moment. Maybe I could sell it for a hefty sum, considering the star player had sent it flying. Was this a sign from the universe, a golden opportunity dropped into my lap?
Lost in my financial fantasies, I was brought back to reality by a gentle poke in the ribs from Natasha. I turned to her with a puzzled expression.
"Throw it back, they're waiting for you," she said, gesturing toward the impatient fielder from the defending team.
Well, there goes my get-rich-quick scheme.
With a dramatic flourish, I flung the ball back to the fielder, collapsing back into my seat with all the enthusiasm of a deflated balloon, secretly wishing for an alien invasion to save me from any more embarrassing encounters.
As I sat there, musing over my unexpected moment of fame, my phone suddenly jolted in my pocket, as if trying to join in on the chaos. I hastily fished it out, the caller ID flashing 'Riddhi' in bold letters.
With a mixture of curiosity and annoyance, I swiped the screen and pressed the phone to my ear. "What?" I blurted out, my patience already wearing thin.
From the other end of the line came Riddhi's voice, dripping with boredom, "Some luck you have, idiot."
I couldn't help but roll my eyes. "What do you mean?" I asked, my confusion growing with each passing moment.
"Oh, you know," she drawled, "First you're all over the big screen, and now you've got Kabir's balls landing in your lap. Things are going a little too swimmingly for you, don't you think? Share some of that luck, will ya?"
I couldn't help but chuckle at her snarky comment, realizing that perhaps my luck was indeed bordering on the absurd.
"I swear, I'll pay you to yank this absurd luck out of me," I grumbled, irritation dripping from every word.
"Yeah, right. You're just bluffing," she shot back, her tone laced with sarcasm.
I bristled, taking great offense. "Nope. This is seriously messed up. I despise this kind of attention, and you know it."
"Well, you're getting it whether you like it or not. Oh, and if you suddenly become famous tomorrow, don't forget to give my travelogue channel a shoutout, okay?" she said, her voice tinged with exhaustion.
"Yeah, yeah, whatever. Hang up already. I've got things to do," I replied, ending the call with a grumble.
Natasha leaned in, her eyes fixing on my troubled expression. "Who was on the line?" she asked.
"Just my old friend from childhood," I grumbled.
"And what was the gossip?" she inquired further.
"Oh, the usual. She couldn't resist teasing me about that camera blunder during the match. Apparently, she had front-row seats from her living room," I muttered irritably.
Natasha nodded knowingly, a smile playing at her lips. "Look at it this way, this unexpected attention could actually work in your favor," she suggested optimistically.
"Yeah, like how?" I questioned skeptically.
"Well, who knows? You might score some collaborations with big-time YouTubers, land a gig in a commercial, or even get invited onto a cricket talk show. Fame has its perks, you know, especially when it lands on your lap unexpectedly," she said with a grin.
"Nah, social media's not my thing. I may be an extrovert, but I can't stand it. WhatsApp's about as close as I get," I shrugged.
Impressed, she remarked, "Well, you're definitely unique."
"Is that a compliment or an insult?" I quipped.
She grinned mischievously. "You decide."
With that playful exchange, a comfortable silence settled between us, and we refocused on the match.
"Oh what's that? Kabir's out, given lbw, just 2 runs shy of his half-century. Back to the pavilion for 48 off 22. And now, the crowd's roar grows louder as the prince exits and the king enters."
"This is gonna be epic," I exclaimed, rubbing my hands together in anticipation.
"Looks like you've switched sides all of a sudden," Natasha remarked.
I scoffed and shrugged, "Eh, I'm flexible. A cricket match is all about entertainment for me. I couldn't care less about who actually wins."
Lie. Once again. Deep down, RCB better win because we've got a massive fandom but not a massive trophy collection, and we desperately need one.
As the commentary droned on and the players swung their bats, my eyelids grew heavier and heavier until they finally succumbed to sleep.
I must have dozed off for who knows how long because when I felt a gentle nudge on my shoulder, I jolted awake to find Natasha giving me a questioning look.
I shot up, scanning the surroundings only to realize that the match had ended, and they were already interviewing the man of the match, Faf du Plessis.
"How long was I out?" I asked, feeling sheepish.
"Long enough to miss Kolkata's loss," Natasha replied with a mock pout.
"I'm sorry, I just couldn't resist the sweet lullaby of cricket commentary," I admitted sheepishly. "But seriously, why's Faf bagging the man of the match title?"
"Well, he knocked a solid 103 runs and basically carried his team to victory in the semi-final," Natasha explained.
I nodded, taking in the info.
"Ready to head home?" I asked, eager to move on from my impromptu nap.
She stood up, smoothing out her clothes. "Absolutely."
We made our way out of the stadium, dodging through the throngs of fans.
"Hey, you're not mad about the snooze, right?" I asked, a touch of nervousness in my voice.
"Nah, I'm not holding any grudges," Natasha reassured me, though her uncertain gaze told a different story as we briskly navigated through the crowd.
"Thanks," I muttered gratefully before bidding Natasha goodbye at the exit gates, each of us heading off in our own separate cabs.
Back at home, I tiptoed inside, careful not to wake the kids. Collapsing onto my bed with a soft thud, I groaned as my tired body protested.
"Ugh, as an engineer, I rarely ventured out, let alone endure hours sitting straight in a cricket stadium," I mumbled sleepily into my pillow.
Grabbing my phone, I shot Natasha a quick text: "Hope you made it home safely." Then, I drifted off into dreamland once more.
As the first light of dawn gently filtered through the curtains, I slowly stirred from my slumber. Blinking sleepily, I stretched my arms above my head before glancing over at the clock on my bedside table. 7:00 AM - perfect.
With a yawn, I swung my legs out of bed and made my way to the bathroom. After a refreshing shower and a thorough brushing of teeth, I emerged feeling rejuvenated. I opted for comfort, slipping into a cozy Star Wars tee-shirt and a pair of loose trousers, ready to take on the day.
Exiting my room, I headed towards the kitchen to prepare breakfast, greeted by the excited wagging tails of my furry companions.
"Hey guys, how about some cereal?" I suggested, a mischievous grin playing on my lips.
Their reaction was immediate and indignant, barking in protest as if to say, "Who in their right mind feeds dogs cereal for breakfast?"
"Alright, alright, no need to get your fur in a knot. It's Pedigree for you lot today. I'll grab some meat on the way home," I relented, chuckling at their dramatic response.
Their eyes sparkled with excitement as they eagerly crowded around my legs.
"Okay, okay, don't get too excited," I laughed, tearing open a can of Pedigree and portioning it out into their bowls.
True to form, they pounced on their food like it was their last meal on Earth, devouring it with gusto.
"Well then, time to catch up on some WhatsApp," I muttered to myself between mouthfuls of cereal, grabbing my phone.
There was a message from Riddhi, accompanied by a link. "Idiot, check this out," she wrote.
Curiosity piqued, I clicked on the link, only to be greeted by an Instagram reel labeled "#Aryabir Goals." There I was, plastered on the big screen, while Kabir seemed frozen in place, his eyes glued to the screen as a ball sailed past his wicket.
I damn near dropped my phone and choked on my cereal. Seriously? Now they're shipping me with that cricketer? What the hell, man!
I dialed Riddhi's number, and she picked up on the first ring, her laughter echoing through the phone.
"You find this amusing?" I scolded.
"You bet I do. I mean, how often does someone get shipped with a cricket star out of the blue? You're like a rare Pokémon card," she joked.
I slapped my forehead in frustration. "Seriously, how on earth am I supposed to face the crew today? They'll never let me live this down. Any escape plan?"
She pondered for a moment before responding, "Well, I don't think you can shake this off overnight. But if you lay low and avoid giving them any fresh material, eventually they'll move on. That's your best bet."
"I have a brilliant idea. How about I quit my job?" I proposed.
"And become a hermit?" She quipped.
I sighed, my frustration evident as I angrily crunched on my cereal. "Seriously, though. Do you think he was actually frozen while staring at me on the screen?"
"I don't know, dude," she replied, her tone softening. "But if you watch the reel, it's pretty convincing."
"Well, that's just great," I groaned in frustration.
She chimed in once more, "Hey, it might not be what it seems. What if he was actually looking at something else, but the camera just happened to catch him at that moment from a weird angle? It's not necessarily the truth, you know."
"So just give it to me straight, should I be worried or relieved over this?" I pressed her for an answer.
She hummed before speaking, "Your call."
I let out a heavy sigh before ending the call and letting my head drop onto the coffee table with a soft thud. Just when things seemed to be going smoothly, this bombshell dropped. My dogs peered at me with curious eyes, their tails wagging excitedly.
"Well, boys, I was out there trying to find you a mom, but it looks like the universe has other plans and wants to gift you a dad instead," I muttered, scratching behind their ears gently.
They yipped happily and scampered off to play with each other.
I thought I'd dip into the comments on that post for a chuckle. Five minutes later, I realized it was like trying to teach a fish to climb a tree—pointless. The comments weren't just supportive; they were practically throwing a parade for the idea.
@TheonlyCutie: OMG, I'm shipping them harder than Amazon Prime!
@IamIronMan1414: Kabir's eyes are brighter than my future. #AryabirForever
@CaptainHook_00: Court's in session! Ship 'em or skip 'em, that's the decree!
@Brownpotato: Forget Romeo and Juliet, we've got Aryan and Kabir bringing the heat!
@MemeLord5000: Forget the wedding bells, we need a Bollywood rom-com ASAP! #Aryabir
@ShipMaster69: Move over, Virushka. Aryabir is the new power couple!
Shaking my head in disbelief, I switched off my phone and hurried to my room to throw on my work clothes. If they want to tease me about this whole debacle, they can go ahead. I mean, come on, I cleared JEE Mains—I ain't scared of nobody!
I threw on some comfy pants and my favorite Avengers tee. Who cares about being noticed? I'm just a background guy, not the star.
Grabbing my phone and a mask (because who knows what's coming), I yelled to the kids, "Behave while I'm gone!" Their barks were my cue to head out, locking the door behind me and slipping the key into my pocket. Off I went, ready to tackle the adventures of public bus.
Luck was on my side as a bus pulled up just as I hit the pavement. Taking a seat by the window, I couldn't help but feel a pang of sympathy for Kabir. Poor guy must be beside himself, thinking he's being shipped off with some random nobody.
"Man, I feel for the dude," I muttered, then decided to check my Instagram.
My eyes nearly bulged out of their sockets when I saw my follower count had skyrocketed from 15 to a whopping 127k. What in the actual heck? Why are these people losing their minds over me? Sure, I'm easy on the eyes, but seriously, there's gotta be a limit to this madness, right?
I sifted through my DMs, usually as barren as a desert, aside from the occasional message from Sana, Riddhi, or my mom. Seriously, nobody ever slid into my DMs.
I mean, I'm just a tech nerd who drops some knowledge bombs on my page. And let's face it, I don't even have a profile picture. Who in their right mind would bother DMing some faceless nerd in a world obsessed with glamour and flaunting their bodies?
But today, the universe decided to throw me a curveball. Today, my inbox was bursting at the seams. Intrigued, I tapped on the first message. "Hey there sweetheart, date me. I can show you the world."
What in the actual fuck? The audacity of some people! Without skipping a beat, I fired back, "I didn't know I signed up for a world tour guide. Must've missed that memo." And just like that, he got the block.
Fed up with the first message, I couldn't be bothered to open the others. I mean, if that one was anything to go by, I shuddered to think what horrors awaited me in the rest of my inbox. I was just about to power down my phone and silently endure the rest of the bus ride when a call from Sana shattered my peace.
Reluctantly, I answered, plastering on a fake smile. "I'm on my way, Sana," I muttered, ready to end the call and resume my inner monologue.
But she wasn't having it. "That's not it, Singh," she said in a monotone voice that set off alarm bells in my head. "I'm sure you've noticed you're, uh, kinda trending?"
I was taken aback by Sana's sudden seriousness. "Yeah. What's up with that?" I asked, my curiosity piqued.
"Do you know the guy you're being shipped with?" she asked, her tone grave.
I started to explain, "Yeah, he's Kabir Rai, star player from RCB and--" But she cut me off.
"Not professionally. Personally," she clarified, her voice tense.
"Of course not. I mean, I'm not exactly rubbing elbows with the elite," I replied, trying to lighten the mood.
Sana took a deep breath before dropping the bombshell. "He's my brother."
"He's your what?"