It’s a six!!” I yelled before the paper ball hit her. Her anger seemed to grow, now that it was stuck in her hair. Of course the logical reaction from my colleagues would be to jump back to their desks and type a code to add two numbers but as luck would have it, they laughed. A lot. And I had the metal plate from the desk-leg as my trustee cricket bat. What? With the world cup and all, I was hoping she would forgive me.

The next day, I found myself in the waiting room of the disciplinary committee. It made me wonder how many times I had been called to be told off, in college or school. I got away easy, each time. Hitting a paper ball to the boundary was nothing compared to the things done then.

Having kept a nail on the teacher’s chair, making sure he sat down. Running out of the class before that horrible physics period only to be caught playing (surprise, surprise) cricket with the other class, later. Yelling out my friends’ names when their apparent crushes walked by, followed by the teachers which only reduced the intensity to a tiny bit. ‘Kidnapping’ our biology laboratory skeleton to give him a complete makeover with glasses and a lab coat, (Trust me when I say, he would have gotten more likes on Facebook than my profile picture.) All this was my nasha. I knew I would get out of it and if I did get caught, what the hell - it only makes me human. The fun human.

Growing up sucks. “Act your age.” “Grow up.” “Pull your collar down”. All this sounds boring and annoying. I could be facing a fine or a suspension (depending on what story she cooked up)

%@#*! I didn’t even mean to hit her. Walking out of the HR room, I was smiling so broadly, it hurt my face. I was surprised at my own dumb luck. The uncanny twists in life are something I can never get used to, it was worse than the twists from the movie Race (didn’t bother watching the sequel).

The member of the panel had been a senior at school whose footsteps, I followed back - when getting a disciplinary card was a reward for being awesome. Had I gone back in time and told him that this is what he would end up doing, I’d probably get kicked in the nuts and he would be rewarded again.


A small smile said he remembered me and letting me off with a namesake warning only proved that he did it for the heck of the complaint. “Don’t get caught” was all he said. I guess we all have to wear this skin of a “grown-up” to fit in where people don’t get comfortable with others living it.
*new message on Whatsapp*

“Bro, Second innings?”

“You bet.”

Let’s just hope I knock her memory out this time.