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

The much awaited call- Aftermath of the match (Ft. Rohit-MS-Jassi)

A/N - While no outright hatred for Hardik, it is not all flowers and rainbows. Fair warning. But no player bashing at all; I do not do that. 

With heavily muted footsteps, one MS Dhoni slipped into his hotel room after carefully ascertaining that the corridors and the room itself was empty. He had been trying to get a few moments of much needed relaxation, but it proved to be surprisingly difficult with any odd group of a couple or so of youngsters, mirroring his each step.

Or maybe he should use the word 'dogging '.

They had been dogging his footsteps.

All because they had read some social media article citing nonsense about how MS Dhoni had been forced to give up his captaincy.

And despite there being another couple of thousand of articles with the contrary, his ultra dunderhead teammates, aka his CSK kids, had latched unto that particular one.

Even his levelheaded Rutu had been so full of unnecessary 'sorries' and 'did I do something wrong, Bhai', that MS had had to punish the poor chap and ban him off of social media for a couple of days.

He had felt a tab bit guilty with Rutu being the captain now but the youngster had taken it well within his stride and had even tried a final,

"You sure that things are okay, Mahi Bhai?"

MS had barely stopped himself from throwing his iPad at the stupid Captain's head. The boy looked entirely too innocent for his own good.

The two Ravindras had been giggling away at a corner, paying absolutely no heed to their age difference, and MS had lamented the fact that he had hoped to get a 'sane' Ravindra.

Rachin had seemed like such a mature soul; MS completely blamed Jaddu. They were now matching hairstyles and twining.

"Ridiculous." MS murmured to himself and dropped his iPad on the bed and moved over to the attached balcony. He breathed in the balmy air of the night, though there was the slightest bite of chill still remaining; It felt good on his face.

It was nearing 1.00 in the morning and therefore it took MS by surprise when his phone vibrated. For a change he had been carrying the little menace machine and he fished it out of his pocket with some apprehension.

It was Jassi.

MS frowned absently; that was not a name he had expected so late at night.

"Hey kid." MS leaned over the balcony railing and despite everything, a wave of affection stole over his senses. It had been a while since he had connected with his ICT kids.

But there was no reply and MS took at quick look at the phone's screen; the call was still connected.

"Jassi?" He prompted again and then he finally caught it; the slightest sniffle. "Hey kiddo. What's wrong?"

It was fear which held onto MS's nerves. He knew that MI had lost the match, he had watched most of it, but Jassi was not someone to take it to heart. Not an IPL match and certainly not the first one.

"Jassi! Speak up."

It took MS nothing to conjure up his captain's voice and it worked as it always did. Rather splendidly.

"H-Hello Bhai. S-Sorry for calling so late."

MS shook his head in exasperation and looked up at the stars to find some semblance of support. One fine day, he will have to have a long, a very long, talk with Virat and take him to task for creating such a bunch of silly over-thinkers.

They all suffered from analysis paralysis.

"Did I ask for an apology, Jaspreet Bumrah? Aren't you getting a little too far ahead of yourself?"