Vicky Bhaiya: A man of enigma

I had recently gone to an event where i found out that there was a story-writing competition going on

and the inner adrenaline rush forced me to register instantly in that competition.

                                             I filled the registration form and taunted one of the volunteer asking, "Where do I have to collect the prize?" She didn't say anything but abuses were all over her eyes. Big and red. Not even blinking. She hadn't slept last night, I guess.
                                         I took the writing-book and glanced a bit. The prime rule of the competition was that the story had to be written solely in 'Devnagri' and I was quite enthralled as it was just few months ago when my heart had decided to restore the love in Hindi literature. I was just like most of you guys who had knowingly( bloody showoff)/ unknowingly lost interest in reading & writing Hindi.
 Khair, I took out the sheet to write a story: great but something fresh: not the cliche romantic story I've been writing lately. So here it is: typical nostalgia.

                          And cut to: me-sitting-and-listening-to-Imtiyaz Ali's interview in that event.
Being an ardent fan, I was trying my ass off to concentrate on Imtiyaz's interview but title which I had written earlier was not letting me be there. It was dipping me back into the ocean of the past memories which included "SACHIN + FLINTOFF" of our village, our own "VICKY BHAIYA."

                          Vicky Bhaiya, the man, the myth, the true-sportsman, and the brat with many more adjectives who ate-slept-talked-breathed sports from my perspective. The man who took me into his atheletic aura so strongly that nobody, I repeat nobody feels bad more than me for him not being able to make it big in cricket. I mean, I was his fan boy and I still am.
                          This chaotic attraction started a long time back when I neither knew my age nor did I care. I guess, I would have seen him in the school or in the playground(BAAGEECHA) in the high school days.
                     
Now I have a picture in my mind where a gang of 15-years old students is playing in that bageecha and a six year old boy watching them play.
 It's just, "Everybody is gangsta until you've been sent multiple times to 'third-man' to bring the ball." 
                          There comes a batsman who does an exception. He is hitting fours and sixes in 'mid-point' area of the ground. I mean who the fuck hits boundaries in off side. That too in a village! That was the first time when I had seen him and I remember him, and it was similar to the movies scene where junior artist calls  "Mohalle mein Koi naya Don aayela hai."

                      
V.A.V DAYS:
                    There was a school in my village named Vivekananda Anglo Vidyalaya where most of the kids from my village used to study but most of them had their dues pending. When I was in class 3rd or 4th, Vicky Bhaiya must have been in 9th or 10th. And the fact that- my eldest cousin was his classmate and his best friend, had given me a ready-made bridge to get special attention from him all the time. I was getting this privilege everywhere: in school, in playground, at his home.
                    When the senior boys used to play cricket, me and my friend used  to do high catching practice beside them just to impress him and whenever the ball would come to me, I would return that to him in a proper spin-bowling way.
                    I even got proper respect / love / attention all over the school because of my cousin. Due to him, I got to see the dance rehearsals (Manish Bhaiya was performing on Rabba Ishq na Howe), watching movies on VCR whenever arranged on the occasions like Vivekanand Jayanti and Saraswati Pooja. I still remember, I was allowed to distribute prasad to commoners while heading to near by river for Visarjan in which the least shy boy used to shout catchwords and we would follow him in chorus as:
                    Ae ho....
                             Ka ho.....
                   Nadi badi door hai
                             Jaana zaroor hai....

By that point of time, I got to be friends with his youngest brother who was in the same class as i was. Whenever I would visit his home and Vicky Bhaiya would be having lunch, he would force me to eat ignoring my NOs, saying, " Aapse kuchh poochh raha hai ki kahana hai ki nahi khaana hai? Chup Chaap baithiye aur khana khayiye," and I could be seen flying above the stratosphere after getting that much attention from him.

Something expected happened around that time, it was 2005 or 2006, the school got shutdown as a result of excessive fee-debt. Students scattered back to their respective villages and districts. I got shifted to another School and his youngest brother to a school in Jharkhand where his father was living as the school which got shut down was owned by Vicky Bhaiya's uncle.

From 'that time' to more than three or four years, I hardly remember anything substantial about him until I reached 9th standard. During those years, I would just hear about him going to various places as "borrow" player as the Jerseys gifted to him was informing all of these to me. His love for cricket was the same and at the peak I guess, that perfection could be seen in him as he would do spin-bowling giving extra~extra flight to the balls but anyone hardly used to hit them to the boundaries. He was the first one whom I had seen doing wicket keeping standing very close to wicket and it used to fascinate meet in the same way as it used to do when I saw them on TV.

CLASS IX B.P.S

         When I entered into class IX, me and some of my friends got a special infection called 'volleyball' and believe me,it was contagious. Cricket before that was addictive too but volleyball was something else. The intensity was something else. We would exhaust ourselves playing volleyball till the sun would go very down the horizon and I don't know how did my friends get the power to return back to their homes which were more than a kilometre away from that ground. Bicycle helped them I guess.

And, guess what, Vicky Bhaiya entered again into my life as he was also a volleyball player(the myth,) and there it started the real bonding. Too much compassion in learning and playing created the different Bond between us. And this time, i was not just an audience member. I was his mate, colleague and whatever.
That's the time when I remember his first appearance now.

The boy turned man with broad shoulders, open chest, chiseled face with a smile-not-so-smile.
And I-the fanboy looked the same; a bit more tanned.

Being elder than most of us, he could stiil be seen practicing with us with same enthusiasm as ours. He would reach the ground very early in the evening and for a fact very early than others. He taught us how to practice, how to lift the spiked ball and also gave many more thankless teachings which gave us the confidence and the skills to fight with anyone. Everyone. Even against the senior team which included him also.
And we started beating his team after a point of time.

For me, he was a bliss altogether to protect me from bad childhood that a studious (so called) boy suffers. As,
                    Me being short in height used to suffer a lot while playing both volleyball & cricket. In cricket, I tried copying his bowling style multiple times in "Aerodrome's matches" but failed miserably due to my height and always gave runs.
                    But here in volleyball, he had taught me enough like boosting the ball and scoring points by placing the ball in gaps. I was getting maximum appreciation and applause just because of my shorter height and I was loving that and I looked extra young too. I remember one of Manish Bhaiya's friend bashing his friend; saying all in fun and appreciation, " BholuJi khaat bhar ka ladka hai par dekhiye kaisa khelta. Jaan laga deta hai." It was said in my comparison to the tallest player of that senior team and I didn't know how to react with that weird admiration but I was happy.

Me and my friend would tease him by copying his walk by pulling up the t-shirt above the shoulder. And, It used to look cool.
But I remember what went wrong between us. It was a short verbal spat between us and the senior team after which we went to play a cricket match instead of playing volleyball and that was the seed of players getting scattered. And the reasons shifted from that fight to us passing out of the school and moving out for serious studies. That scattering still hurts.
It was not that we stopped playing volleyball. We kept playing on and off with each other few times after that but the spark was nowhere. It was all shyness and different kind of qualities that a sportsman doesn't adore.

After almost six years of these events, we are here- finding career, directions, love partners and stability in life.

But all I see in these years is the shift and transformation in our lives. Shift in our (me & Vicky Bhaiya) maturity, bonding, time, playing sports and life in general.

" Him as a carefree-brat-star to respected-famous-responsible guy and me as a carefree-innocent-sporty-kid to a man still behaving as a child who smokes" is a long journey of almost 15- years.
The bonding also changed.
From "nobody" to "fanboy" to "kind~of~friend" to " funny~conversations" to "Just~two~guys~who~knew~each other~once," this journey is very long and opposite of this is this story which turned into a journal midway.

This short story may be similar to many more Vicky Bhaiyas of your society, mohalla, village or town. And for me, I don't know he was talented enough or not, but he is the one who deserves big.
Changing is the time when people have stopped saying, "oh! Wow....what a talent.... But where would he reach?" The rock bottom used to be their answer. But now scene has changed. The time is changing.........Wait.....Wait....Imtiyaz Ali is leaving. Before he leaves, i have to tell him something. Bye.