Cricket till I die- Excerpt - III

The Dream Takes Flight

“Life is like a library owned by the author.
In it are a few books which he wrote himself,
but most of them were written for him.”
– Harry Emerson Fosdick

What on earth was I thinking?? My head was killing me.                                                                                There I was, sitting in an exam
hall, going to be the alma mater of one of the most prestigious
B schools in India for which all I had to do was merely smudge
the paper for two hours.
My heart, on the other side, was pounding from inside, almost
ready to spring out of any orifice it could have managed to
find. This is it, I knew. If I have to follow my dream, this is
pretty much it. There will be no second chances.
The words of Sharma had stood correct. The Royal Delhi
Club, undeniably, had made the path an easy one. Each
performance got eyed by people who mattered and once I
was in my element there was no looking back. I had been
selected amongst so many prodigies to be a part of the
trials for the ‘Delhi Daredevils’. These old legs had been
preferred over young stallions, something for which the only
explanation was that there was something they had seen in
me. Something special, I furthered myself.
The trials for the Delhi team started that day, the day my
third semester examinations commenced. In an hour I
was expected at the trials. On one side lay a cushiony life,
guaranteeing the comforts of life, an abode in a posh colony
in Delhi, a swanky ride and a life filled with air conditioned
offices and innumerable client visits which would include
infinite soporific team meetings where I would want to do
just one thing, i.e., bang my head on the table. I had derived
my answer; I wanted the other side of life. That of labour,
sweat, toil and of uncertainty as to whether all this would
materialise even into a fraction of what I’d always dreamt of.