An ode to a teenage crush

The October morning with a faint chill in the air made a perfect beginning for Zeba as she rubbed her eyes and woke up. As a ritual, she stood in front of the mirror and checked herself. She loved her countenance. She realized that of late she felt a strange kind of joy standing before the mirror. It was just a few days back that she had celebrated her 15th birthday. Her mind reminded her that today she had to go to school a bit early keeping a few minutes for a quick visit on way to the class teacher’s house for picking her homework copy.

A couple of houses across the narrow lane Javed was getting ready to go to University. His mother was also in a hurry arranging breakfast while she got ready to go to school where she taught. She remembered that she had asked a student to collect the homework copy from her house before school time.

Javed was almost done with his preparations and was about to go downstairs when he heard a knock at the door. His mother was still in the kitchen and yelled to Javed to open the door. Deep in his own thoughts, with scant enthusiasm, Javed removed the latch and pushed the door open. The person standing on the other side made Javed lose his own thoughts. He was staring at a doe eyed, beautiful girl with a chiseled face, sporting an apprehensive smile. Javed found it difficult to remove his gaze, he was dumb-struck for a moment. It took an extended time for Javed to inform his mother that a girl has come from the school. His mother yelled to Javed asking him to give the bundle of copies to the girl. With a lingering smile on her face, Zeba took the bundle of copies and returned. She did not understand why that brief interlude at the door with the unknown boy had made her heart to beat a little faster.

Javed loved cricket more than his studies. This year his performance in the Inter Unit Cricket tournament was appreciated and he had been selected in the University cricket team. While weekdays were spent in the University, on weekends Javed would spend evenings playing with boys in the locality on the small plot of open land which was the only vacant place in the congested locality of closely packed houses.

This afternoon Zeba heard some excitement outside her house and opened the window to see. Her window had a clear view of the small vacant plot where she saw some boys playing cricket in fervour. Although she had no inclination towards cricket her eyes caught the sight of the boy whom she had met, albeit fleetingly, while she had gone to her class teacher’s house to pick the bundle of copies. The sight of the boy made her continue to watch the game without any understanding of the proceedings. Today she got an extended opportunity to see the boy. He was athletic and good looking. By his mannerisms, Zeba could understand that the boy was good at what he was doing. A strange thought, which was beyond her understanding, engulfed Zeba. She experienced the same exciting feeling which she had felt while she had taken the bundle of copies.

This year Javed did extremely well playing for the University Cricket team. He spent most of his time on the cricket field or in the gym working out to improve his physique. He still found time to play in the locality with friends on weekends. Zeba also kept date with weekend afternoons. Without understanding the game, she found a mysterious pleasure watching the boy play who, as she understood, was probably the son of her class 10 teacher.

Time passed, Zeba finished school and got into college. For approximately a year she intermittently got a chance to see the boys of the locality play cricket in the vacant plot of land but suddenly one day she saw construction work getting started on that vacant land. It was the last that she saw of the athletically built boy with an attractive gaze who had opened the door on that October morning while she had gone to her class teacher’s house to collect copies.

Javed was having a dream run. He got selected in the Uttar Pradesh Ranji Trophy cricket team and now mostly remained travelling following the busy cricketing schedule of the state team. His performance was noticed by the IPL franchises and the same year he was drafted into the Mumbai Indians IPL team. Javed shifted base to Mumbai.

Three seasons passed with Javed playing for the Mumbai Indians. With fame came the money and Javed found himself in the midst of a world full of glitz and glamour. The Mumbai Indians was playing Kolkata Knight Riders in the final of the IPL. It was a high voltage game. With the match tightly poised, Javed went to bat at the fall of second wicket. The bowler started his run and bowled a yorker at 148 km speed, Javed tried to flick but missed. The ball hit his ankle and he fell on the ground. The team doctor came on the field but ruled that Javed had serious injury and cannot continue.

Javed’s ankle fracture took a long time to heal. He went into rehabilitation which took another six months. It was almost time for the next season of IPL and Javed was still injured. This season Mumbai Indians didn’t select him into their squad. The reality of the life in the fast lane hit Javed hard. A player who just a year back was the toast of the cricket league was now injured and without any financial support.

Zeba was in the final year of college. Nature had bestowed her with a beauty which was ethereal. Despite being a year shy of two decades, Zeba’s parents were deluged with marriage proposals. On an occasion when Zeba’s mother had discussed with her a possible marriage proposal, Zeba had categorically stated that she wanted to study further and marriage can wait.

Jabir Khan had migrated, as a teenager, to Mumbai from the eastern UP town of Mau about 25 years back. His was a story straight from a Bollywood thriller. From sleeping on the footpath he had floated businesses which flourished, he now owned palatial houses and property worth several millions. Jabir’s underworld links had played a key role in his success.

A far related aunt spoke to Jabir about Zeba and her beauty. Using his relatives in Uttar Pradesh, Jabir sent a marriage proposal to Zeba’s parents. Jabir’s opulence was far too attractive for Zeba’s parents and the consent of the girl became immaterial. The marriage was fixed and very soon solemnized. Zeba went to Mumbai much to her chargrin.

Jabir was a doting husband. He pampered Zeba with all the gifts that money could buy. It was within a year that Zeba was blessed with a baby boy. The initial euphoria for the new bride waned for Jabir. The large age difference between Jabir and Zeba always played in his mind. As time passed Jabir became increasingly possessive of his wife. Zeba felt suffocated in the company of her middle aged husband and learnt to bide her time with Ismail, her son, who was now almost seven years old.

Watching matches on TV, Ismail had become addicted to cricket. With complete cricketing gear he would pressurize Zeba to take him to school in the evening to play cricket. In a short span of time, Ismail was playing well considering his age. In one of the parent-teacher meetings, the school sports teacher suggested that given his inherent talent, it would be advisable to send Ismail to a cricket academy during the summer vacations.

Jabir Khan too revelled to see Ismail’s prowess in cricket. Upon insistence from Zeba, he used his contacts to get Ismail admitted to the cricket academy in Andheri. A driver was specially recruited to daily take Ismail to the cricket academy. Ismail felt more than happy to be coached at the academy.

Once acclimatized into his new surroundings, Ismail became a favourite pupil of the coach at the academy. Ismail too became extremely fond of the coach who, as he learnt, was called Javed Sir by all the students at the academy. Ismail would frequently talk about Javed Sir to his mother and on occasions coaxed her to visit the academy to meet him.

It was Saturday afternoon and Zeba had no pressing engagements at home. It was a long time she had ventured outside their home. Of late Jabir had become unduly possessive and didn’t allow Zeba to go alone anywhere. Zeba tutored Ismail to seek permission from dad to allow Zeba to go with him to the academy. Jabir could not refuse his son and he relented to allow Zeba to go to the academy.

The Andheri sports complex was buzzing with activity this Saturday afternoon. At the far end of the stadium were the cricket practice pitches surrounded by nets. A large number of teenage boys were in different stages of getting ready for the practice. Zeba took a seat on the stadium steps far removed from the cricket pitch, from the far distance she could see Ismail getting ready to start his bowling routine. A man in perfect cricketing attire with a red cap was supervising the boys. Zeba could make out that this was Javed Sir, the coach who was addressed in such high esteem by his pupils.

After a couple of hours of intense practice, the cricket trainees dispersed. Ismail ran across the stadium towards his mother. He wanted Zeba to walk down the ground to meet Javed Sir. After some initial hesitation, Zeba walked across the field to the other side where the coach was in the final routine of winding up the session. Zeba could now see Javed Sir closely. Her mind raced to recollect where she had seen this face. Javed was also looking at her, his brain was perplexed, an abstract memory stored in a recess prompted him that the woman standing before him was not unknown. Zeba remembered first, her mind flashed the memory of the boy with the dazed look handing her the copies. Javed’s eight billion neurons also brought forth the memory of the doe eyed girl standing on the other side of the gate. 

Pleasantries were exchanged. Javed excused himself as he got a call on his mobile. Zeba returned to her waiting car with Ismail. Meeting Javed, her teenage crush, and getting an opportunity to talk to him was so unexpected that she was finding it difficult to understand how to react. Without understanding the meaning, she felt happy.

That evening, Zeba’s thoughts frequently went to the chance meeting with Ismail’s coach at the academy. The world was in fact a small place. In another room Jabir was in the company of his routine two pegs. The sound system played the Rahat Fateh Ali’s masterpiece ‘mere rashke qamar…..’.

A few days passed and Zeba again got a chance to accompany Ismail to the cricket academy. For two hours she watched the proceedings. Although ostensibly she was there to see Ismail play, time and again she found herself a sixteen year old standing in front of the window grill watching the boys play on the small plot of land. Her thoughts were broken by Ismail who came running to her.

In the coming weeks, Zeba found reasons to accompany Ismail. Even without any interaction with Javed, she found the two hour stopover a reason to break free from the suffocating precincts of her home. Watching Javed was always an excuse to go back in time. Jabir did not show interest in her, he was more addicted to his business deals and the late night interaction with friends.

Despite his growing age and an apparent ignorant attitude, Jabir had a sharp acumen. Within a month he realized the change in mood profile of Zeba. His sadistic male instinct prompted him to investigate the reason behind Zeba’s new found happiness. His analytical mind shuffled all the possibilities and the changes which might have happened in the last couple of months. He realized Zeba had been going with Ismail without any outward intent. Never before had she ever expressed her interest in cricket. Jabir was certain that the change in Zeba’s attitude had something to do with her frequent visits to the cricket academy.

Even after a week, the private detective could not find any clues which could solve the concerns of Jabir based on the brief given to him. He had trailed Zeba twice to the academy and sat at a distance but did not find anything amiss. It was in the second week that the detective chanced upon a hint. The detective told Jabir that the coach Javed belonged to Allahabad and his ancestral house was a couple of houses away from that of Zeba’s parents.

Jabir’s shrewd mind did not miss the coincidence. He was quick to connect the dots. Jabir understood the implications. He took the decision. A couple of phone calls were made to a few friends.

The two men in track suits alighted from the motorcycle with a kit bag and entered the cricket academy stadium. They walked to the stadium and sat on the last benches under the shade of the tree. Zeba was already sitting at her designated spot and was oblivious of the other two men who sat about 30 yards away from her.

On the other side of stadium, the practice session of the cricket academy had started. Javed Sir was instructing Ismail the nuances of bowling a googly. Once done he handed the ball to Ismail. One of the two men sitting on the other side of stadium opened the kit bag and took out a cloth covered stick resembling a hockey. Zeba glanced towards the two men but then again fixed her gaze on Javed. Today in green cap, Javed looked handsome.

The man lifted the hockey shaped structure and pointed it towards the cricket playing group. He took aim, Javed’s back was clearly visible in the aim. Ismail was about to bowl having learned the art of googly, he ran and passed Javed before releasing the ball. The ball pitched on the off stump and went towards leg stump. The batsman thought otherwise and was completely foxed. Ismail jumped in the air and turned around to face Javed Sir.

The man pulled the trigger, even with the silencer in place the rifle emitted a hissing sound. With Diwali round the corner, there was intermittent sound of crackers in the background. The sound of the rifle was lost. The bullet found the left shoulder of Javed just below the neck. A micro second later the bullet came out from the chest caressing the heart in its route. Javed saw the excited look on the face of Ismail but then everything stood still. A gush of blood escaped from his open mouth and he collapsed on the ground.

Commotion followed. The cricket trainees all in their teens were terrified. A few ran towards the coach. Zeba witnessed the fall of Javed and was as bewildered as the trainees. She started running towards Ismail who stood as a statue watching Javed Sir. Zeba caught Ismail and ran towards the exit. She was still shaking when she reached her car.

Zeba was shocked as was Ismail. In the meantime, even before Zeba could reach home, Jabir Khan received a cryptic message, he understood the work has been accomplished. When Zeba reached home she found Jabir in his room. She told Jabir what she had witnessed and also that she had seen the killers from close quarters. Jabir had not foreseen this development. He became unhappy. This was indeed unprofessional on the part of his friends who had handled this liquidation.

Zeba found it difficult to reconcile. The look on the face of Javed while he lay in blood was too fresh in her mind. It was around 10 pm in the night that Zeba called the driver to take her to the graveyard. She was in such a frame of mind that she didn’t ask Jabir for the permission. In the graveyard, the formalities of Javed’s funeral had just finished. Zeba stood before the grave and prayed. Tears flowed from her eyes. She sprinkled some rose petals on the grave and left.

Jabir was a worried man. He had been contemplating options throughout the evening. Finally he took a decision. Today he exceeded his alcohol content but still he felt tense. Zeba returned and went to her room. She was having a splitting headache. She lay in bed with tears rolling down her cheeks.

In a show of love, Jabir offered a glass of water to Zeba. She found this gesture reassuring. She gulped the water which brought some relief to her taut nerves. Zeba felt her migraine receding. Her head felt light and she felt drowsy. Her mind drifted to a state which was serene.

Jabir realized the drug had worked. He went to the refrigerator and took out the vial of insulin. He took two syringes and filled them with insulin. Zeba was fast asleep under the effect of alprazolam. Jabir pulled her kurta exposing her belly. Under normal circumstances it was proper to wipe the surface with alcohol but this was not normal. He pushed the fine needle and emptied both the syringe in the subcutaneous cavity. Zeba was too sedated to realize what has happened.

Jabir coudnt sleep that night. He watched his comatose wife sitting beside her. There was a time when he was so fond of her. He could now see drops of sweat on Zeba’s forehead. Her hands and feet became cold, it took another couple of hours before she stopped breathing.

In the morning news broke out that Zeba had expired while in sleep. It was a consensus that she had suffered a heart attack precipitated by the events related to Javed’s murder.

A large number of people had gathered for her funeral. The ambulance carrying the coffin stopped some distance from the graveyard giving a chance to people to participate in the ritual of giving a shoulder to her coffin. Jabir was inconsolable. The grave was already ready. The spot allotted to Zeba’s grave was beside a fresh grave which still had some rose petals sprinkled on it. The tombstone standing on the northern side marking the grave had the inscription “JAVED KHAN, 1978 – 2016”