Location: Sai's Apartment Balcony, Kukatpally.
The biggest problem with being ten years old wasn't the homework. It was the lack of freedom.
Sai couldn't go to the gym. He couldn't buy protein powder (his mom would think it's drugs). He couldn't even go for a run at night because "bad people" would kidnap him.
He was stuck in his house.
But a cricketer needs only three feet of space to master the basics.
The Setup:
Sai had stolen an old sock from his dad's drawer. He put a heavy cork ball inside it and tied the other end of the sock to a rope. He then tied the rope to the grill of the balcony ceiling.
It was the classic "Hanging Ball" drill. Bradman used a stump and a golf ball. Sai used a Kashmir Willow bat and his dad's sock.
Day 1: Tuesday Evening (6:00 PM)
The balcony was small, cluttered with drying clothes and a Tulasi plant.
Sai pushed the drying rack aside.
He tapped the hanging ball. It swung towards him.
Goal: Play with a straight bat. 100 reps.
He leaned forward.
[DISSONANCE]
Alert: Head falling over. Balance compromised.
He stopped. He adjusted his feet. He waited for the ball to swing back.
He kept his head still, watching the seam of the spinning ball.
[CLICK]
He defended it softly. The ball hit the middle and swung back straight.
Thock. Thock. Thock.
"Arey Sai!" his mom shouted from the living room. "TV sound vinipistaledu! Apara aa sound!" (I can't hear the TV! Stop that sound!)
"Homework aipoindi Amma!" Sai yelled back. (Homework is done!)
"Aithe Tables chaduvu! 12th table!" (Then read Tables!)
Sai rolled his eyes. He started reciting loudly while playing the shots.
"Twelve ones are twelve!" Thock. (Defensive push).
"Twelve twos are twenty-four!" Thock. (Backfoot punch).
"Twelve threes are thirty-six!" Thock. (Straight drive).
He was training his brain to multitask. In a real match, the bowler sledges you, the crowd screams, and the pressure is high. Reciting math tables while maintaining perfect technique was his way of building Mental "Resonance."
Day 3: Thursday Morning (5:30 AM)
Location: The Terrace.
Karthik had actually brought the skipping rope. He was sitting on the water tank, eating an Osmania biscuit, watching Sai suffer.
Sai was shirtless, wearing just his shorts. He was skipping.
Jump. Jump. Jump.
[DISSONANCE]
Impact Warning: Knees locking.
Sai adjusted. He started landing on the balls of his feet, keeping his knees soft. Springy.
[CLICK]
[CLICK]
[CLICK]
"Entha sepu ra?" Karthik asked, munching. (How long man?)
"Hundred," Sai gasped, sweat dripping into his eyes. "Inko... fifty..."
His 10-year-old calves were burning. His lungs felt like they were on fire. The "Perfect Rep" ability helped his technique, but it couldn't magically give him stamina. He had to build that the hard way.
"You know," Karthik said thoughtfully, "If you play WWE with me, you don't have to jump so much."
"Shut... up... Karthik," Sai panted.
He finished the set and collapsed on the terrace floor, staring at the morning sky.
He was exhausted. But he felt a distinct difference. His feet felt lighter.
Agility, Sai thought. I might not be strong, but I will be the fastest runner between the wickets.
Day 6: Sunday (The Day Before Selection)
Location: The Living Room.
Sai was oiling his bat. He had bought a small bottle of linseed oil from the sports shop. He was rubbing it into the wood with an old cloth.
His father, Rao, walked in, holding a cup of tea and the Eenadu newspaper.
He watched his son for a moment. He had seen Sai waking up at 5 AM every day for a week. He had heard the thock-thock sound from the balcony every evening.
Rao wasn't a man of many words. He thought cricket was a risky career. Engineering was safe. But he respected hard work.
"Selection repu kada?" Rao asked, sipping tea. (Selection is tomorrow, right?)
"Avunu Nanna," Sai said, not looking up. (Yes, Dad.)
"Do you have a kit bag?"
Sai paused. "Ledu. I'll carry the bat in my hand."
Rao put the paper down. He walked to the cupboard and pulled out an old, slightly dusty gym bag. It was a dull blue "Aristocrat" travel bag.
"Use this," Rao said, tossing it to him. "Put a towel and water bottle. Don't drink tap water there, you'll get throat pain."
Sai caught the bag. It wasn't a professional cricket kit (coffin). It was a travel bag. But it was huge for him.
"Thanks, Nanna."
Rao walked back to the sofa. "Pass avvakapothe edvaku. Just game idi." (If you don't pass, don't cry. It's just a game.)
Sai smiled. "Pass avthanu." (I will pass.)
The Night Before
Sai lay in bed. He couldn't sleep.
Tomorrow was St. Ann's High School U-12 Trials.
There would be 50 kids. Only 15 would be selected.
Most of those kids had been going to summer camps. They had parents who bought them SG bats and expensive pads.
Sai had a second-hand Kashmir Willow bat, a borrowed pair of gloves from Karthik (which were too big), and a secret weapon inside his nervous system.
He closed his eyes and visualized the trials.
Gopal Sir is watching.
I don't need to hit sixes.
I just need to show them that they can't get me out.
He flexed his wrists. No Dissonance. Just calm.