A Tumbler Full of Tales - ICT and beyond (ON HOLD)

Boldness, be my friend (Virat and MS)

Boldness, Be My Friend. 

2009

It had only been months since Virat had been picked again to play for the Indian Cricket Team. 

His father's dream. 

His own passion. 

He needed to build it up again. 

Having been dropped after his debut series had disheartened the young player, and then, during the 2009 IPL, the rumours had started circulating.

Overindulges in drinks!

More interested in being stylish!

Tattoos matter more than runs.

Virat had heard them and more. And they had made his comeback so much more tougher. But damn his idiocy; he was yet to learn his lesson.

Virat tried to put his feet down on the ground and winced; the cut throbbed.

"Stupid! I am so stupid!"

They had an important practice session today; one where the selectors were present to oversee the progress of the team. Virat knew this, was well aware of its decisiveness and yet he chose to attend a late night party with Yuvi Paaji and a few others.

Without informing his Skipper.

That would not have mattered, but then Virat's tipsy feet had stumbled and he had cut open the sole of his foot as he had stepped on a piece of broken glass. The glass which had broken when he had dropped it, moments before.

The fancy footwear he had donned, offered no protection against the sharp edge of the glass piece.

Yuvi Paaji had dragged him away from the club, making sure that Virat kept the wounded foot elevated and had deposited him to their Physio's room.

The next few minutes had been a painful experience for Virat, stuck in midst of wanting to cry out and yet clenching his teeth and sucking it. Yuvi Paaji was not one to hold hands and console; Virat had missed his Captain.

Not that he was very close to the man, but MS Dhoni seldom left a teammate to suffer alone. Virat has seen his Skipper maintaining night long vigils when Sonu Bhai had fought a particularly nasty bout of flu, when Rohit had been down with food poisoning, when Zak Pa had sprained his ankle.

Virat hobbled his way to the ensuite but while making his way back to the bed, he inadvertently placed weight on the wrong part of his injured foot, swallowed against the rising pain and braced himself for the resultant fall.

Which never came.

Instead, a warm and calloused hand held him up and gently guided him back to the bed.

"What are you trying to do, Virat?"

It was the Skipper himself; Virat sneaked a look up at MS and then promptly dredged his eyes back to the bed covers.

"Virat?" MS's voice lowered significantly and he tapped the youngster's cheek. "Look up."

Virat hesitantly complied; MS's face looked as rigid, as unreadable as ever. But there was something especially lethal in his eyes.

"This wound will take enough time to heal, as is, without you adding a broken leg to the amalgamation." MS's voice remained low and gentle, but it was caged in steel.

Virat shivered involuntarily. "I just had to use the washroom," he mumbled under his breath.

"And you couldn't have called someone to assist? The stitches are just a few hours old; yet to dry."

Virat looked away; he couldn't maintain the eye contact. "Sorry," he mumbled.

Virat could have punched himself. He did not know what it was about MS Dhoni that made him tongue tied in front of the Captain. And still, he craved to have a proper conversation with the man. He had yet to meet a better cricketing brain than MS and he wanted to pick at it, learn things from the man. As aggressive and impulsive as he was, Virat was fascinated by the calmness MS radiated.

The man had a temper to rival Virat's but it was mostly sequestered. It simmered, just under the surface, but Virat had yet to see it break free.

"What are you apologising for?"

The tone, tenor, treble and pitch of the voice, all remained unchanged and yet Virat instinctively knew that the question was not rhetorical.

He flapped his hands. "For the almost tumble?"

MS sighed heavily and Virat saw him shake his head. The Captain dragged over a chair and sat directly in front of Virat, moving so far into his space that Virat was forced to look at him.

He was done for! Was Virat's only thought

"I believe you are well aware of the reasons for your non-inclusion in the Team after your Debut series; it had nothing to do with the runs you scored. You are a phenomenal batsman and you have all the makings for becoming the bloody best."

Virat's eyes widened the slightest bit; MS almost never swears.

He continued. "I will not presume to be your guardian nor will I order you in that fashion but as your Captain, I would like to impart some advice."

Virat gave another hesitant nod; he did not care for MS's presumption and all that but knew better than to interfere at this point.

"Today's session was important, with the selectors in attendance. What were you thinking, going out to a late night party the day before? Yuvraj has been doing this for a long time and it was not his first rodeo. But you? It is a mercy that I was able to convince the selectors that you had had a freak accident and that the accident happened in your room, not in a club."

"You lied?" Virat felt his breath shortening and his throat closing up. "For me?"

MS shrugged. "Don't let it go to your head," he quipped. "Next time, you go right under the bus. No mercies."

A burning behind his eyes and Virat swallowed against the rush of tears. With a hand holding unto MS's shoulder for support, he hobbled to stand. Pushing down against his increasing panic, Virat leaned in and wrapped his arms around his Captain.

MS, almost immediately, reciprocated in kind and once Virat was sure that he would not be reprimanded for daring to hug his Skipper, he muttered, "Thank you, Mahi Bhai. Thank you so much."

Virat kept smiling even as he felt a sharp smack on the back of his head, which transformed into a gentle caress.

"Last time," MS warned again. Pulling out of the embrace, he made Virat sit and had him stretch out his legs. "And there will be repercussions."

"I guessed as much." Virat grumbled.

"You are, of course, entitled to not follow, as this is not an official reprimand."

Virat crossed his arms over his chest and put on the most adamant expression he could. "I won't back out. You know that. Hit me!"

MS rolled his eyes. "No late night parties for the next three months. You come back to your rooms by 11.00 P.M. If you get stuck, for any reason whatsoever, you call me. And no drinking."

"At all?" Virat scrunched up his face in misery.

"At all." MS placed his hands on Virat's shoulders, squeezing them. "Too much?"

Virat smirked and shook his head. "Not at all."

"Good. Want coffee?"

A Captain and a younger player, a goof up addressed appropriately and the subtle threads of camaraderie forming over cups of coffee.

It was the start of a beautiful and resilient friendship.

A/N - Comments will be most appreciated. It is because of all of you that I find the zeal to continue writing. Much obliged. 

Happy reading. Take care and Thank you.