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.

                      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 at all but abuses were all over her big and red eyes and she was 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 'Hindi' and I was quite enthralled as it was just a few months back when my heart had decided to restore my love in Hindi literature. I had become 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 the story: great but something fresh; not the cliche romantic story I've been writing lately. So here it is: A typical nostalgia.

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 the title of the story which I had written few moments back 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-breathed sports. The man who took me into his atheletic aura so strongly that nobody, I repeat nobody feels bad for him 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 his high school days.

                     

Right 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." 

Then comes a batsman who does an exception. He hits fours and sixes in 'mid-point' area of the ground. I mean who the fuck hits boundaries on the off side. That too in a village! That was the first time when I had seen him and it was similar to some movie scene where supporting character says, "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 and 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 oldest cousin was his classmate and his best friend, had given me a ready-made bridge to get special attention from Vicky bhaiya all the time and I was getting this privilege everywhere: in school, in playground or even 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 my idolo and whenever the ball would come to me, I would return it to him in a proper spin-bowling way so that he would know that even this kid has some potential.

                    I even used to get 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), or to watch movies on VCR arranged on the occasions like Vivekanand Jayanti and Saraswati Pooja. I still remember, I was once allowed to distribute prasad to commoners while heading to near by river for Visarjan. It was a big thing for me. While visarjan, 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....

I don't know why I'm telling this. Khair!

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 suppose Vicky Bhaiya would be having lunch, Vicky bhaiya would force me to eat ignoring my NOs, saying, " Aapse koi poochh raha hai ki khana hai ki nahi khana 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. But the noise started again when I was entering into the ninth 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 was 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 me a lot as I used to think that this only happens 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 down the horizon and I don't know how my friends used to get the power to return back to their homes which were more than few kilometres away from the ground. Bicycle, I guess.

And, guess what, Vicky Bhaiya entered again in my life as he was also a volleyball player(the myth,) and then the real bond started to form. Too much dedication in learning and playing created a coach student bond between us. And this time, i was not just a spectator. I was his mate, his colleague and even opponent.

I think that was the time that I remember his first appearance now.

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

Being older than most of us, he could still be seen practicing with us with the 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 teaching which gave us the confidence and the skills to play a game with anyone. Anyone. 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 has to go through. I was excelling everywhere. As, me being short in height used to suffer a lot while playing both volleyball & cricket at first. 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 about 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 younger age. I was loving that so much and I used to look 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 Vicky bhaiya 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 our team and the senior team and after that we went to play a cricket match instead of playing volleyball with them 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 after that. We kept playing on and off with each other few times after that but the spark was nowhere. It was all awkwardness and different kind of qualities that a sportsman doesn't carry.

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 like 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 whether he was talented enough or not, but he is the type of sportsperson 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.