He handed over his basic phone—one of those old models with actual buttons and a tiny screen. I scrolled through the limited internet, checking news about how the world was doing, who the current mayor was, and who was the president of our country. I didn't remember all the basic current events anymore, and I needed to update myself.
The cricket highlights were there, as always. Cricket, unlike football, had more craze in this country. As part of the international cricket council, it was like the British had brought this game, and we'd made it our own. "If we can't start a war and defeat them, we'll defeat them in the game," people often said. "At least the souls of our martyrs would be calmed by these victories."
I checked the stock markets and multiple other news sources to get myself updated on current events. The exchange rates caught my eye—our currency, the rupay, was weak compared to major currencies. One US dollar equaled 50 rupay, one Japanese yen equaled 0.5 rupay, and one Chinese yuan equaled 7 rupay. The country of Xia's economy wasn't in the best shape.
Jake sighed and remembered bitcoin—it surely hadn't been introduced to the mainstream community yet, but after checking, there were already forums related to bitcoin, though not many were showing prospects. Only some tech enthusiasts believed in its potential. Suddenly, I had an idea—what if I started buying bitcoin? But looking at my current conditions, it wasn't feasible. Even 10 dollars was a dream at this time, and with our country Xia's currency being even weaker, it seemed impossible.
"Jake, dinner time!" Dad called out. We gathered around the small dining table. Because of the typhoid, the food seemed a little tasteless to me, but I could still feel the warmth that Mom had put into making it. The simple dal-rice, some vegetables, and her special touch made everything feel like home. "How are you feeling now, beta?" Mom asked, serving me smaller portions. "The doctor said to eat light for a few more days."
"Much better, Mom. Thank you," I replied, meaning it more than she could know. After dinner, I slept better than I had in the last decade. The simple comfort of my childhood bed, the sounds of home, the absence of work stress and loan EMIs—it was blissful.
The next Monday morning, I found myself dazing in class when my friend Kane shook me. "Bro, you bored or what? It's PT class next—time to play, bro!" Kane was my bench buddy—classes had two mates sitting beside each other—and his excitement was infectious. I also glanced at Angelica, who was sitting two rows ahead. She had been my crush at this age, but looking at her now, I felt different somehow. The desperate infatuation was replaced by a calmer appreciation.
In my previous life, in 10th grade when it was the last day of school, I had wanted to propose to her but couldn't gather the confidence. I was introverted, overweight, not upfront, missing the confidence completely. I had let it go because I felt I had little to offer. I was the fat kid in class, but this time, things would be different.
"Come on, Jake! Let's go!" Kane pulled at my sleeve. In PT class, I ran like I had never run before. I wasn't shy this time. All my friends looked surprised, and some tried to make fun of me, especially the group in class that was notorious for bullying. "Look at fatty running!" one of them shouted.
"Jake's trying to fly!" another added, laughing.
But their words were just motivation for me now. I played football, chasing the ball with determination I'd never shown before. This time, I would do everything I had missed in my previous life, but with discipline.
"Dude, what's gotten into you today?" Kane panted, running beside me. "You're like a different person!"
"Just felt like trying harder," I replied, wiping sweat from my forehead.
After the match, Coach Krishnan approached me. "Jake, that was good effort today. You interested in joining the football training?"
My heart leaped. This was exactly what I wanted—football training would be the best exercise to lose weight fast and build confidence.
"Yes, sir! I'd love to join," I said eagerly.
"Good. Training starts next week. But you'll need your parents' permission."
That evening, I approached Dad carefully. He was grading papers at the dining table, his reading glasses perched on his nose. "Dad, I want to join the football team at school." He looked up, surprised. "Football? Jake, you should focus on your studies. Sports won't give you a secure future."
"But Dad, you're a sports teacher yourself. You know how important physical fitness is."