The Eternal Twelfth Man-I

Amit had stayed in 14, B Block, 1st Floor, Kirti Nagar Society ever since nani and Pammi maasi brought him home from Holy Cross Hospital on a summer evening. He had known the rickety gate and the dilapidated boundry walls to be guarded by Nahar Singh's bushy moustache and laathi for as long. The four storied building built in the 80s had resisted modernization (no lift) and break-ins for most part of its splendid tenure. Most members were happy to celebrate the Foundation Day with a 'cultural night'-of attempts at classical dance and antakshari. The sole inclination for him and his gang-Sandip, Raju, Sachin, Ravi and Pinki were the samosa and Campa Cola afterwards.

Speaking of the gang-it wasn't a pack of 'dirty rotten scoundrels'-schooling those days hardly allowed kids to achieve the much-fancied notoriety of Dennis. They were more likely to disturb the mass of drying papad on Mrs. Patel's drawing room floor with the odd rubber ball finding its way through her already 'insightful' window. As it is, most of the day waned carrying truckloads of textbooks to school and returning with just enough homework to last the day. And Math tuitions from 5 to 6:30 didn't leave any scope for complaining for lack of academic rigour.

Amit was the youngest in the pack-save Pinki-who was hardly given membership status for official purposes, like smuggling mangoes from the gardens in the Railway Bunglows on the other side of the tracks, or playing in the C.O.D. grounds-where the Big Boys played. Age handicapped Amit to a degree that he always got to field towards the boundary where the building compound gave in to the main road. But this was no inhibition to his swiftness on the boundry. And also earned him a complimentary over (provided the match and 2 rupees per head were not at stake!) which he bowled with the most determined look on his face and the best effort his 38 kgs of muscle and sinew could muster. Of course the fact that Amit's spects were a hefty -3.5 cylinder should never have come between him and his due share of fame, but who could explain the boys of Kirti Nagar Society or those of Ravindra Bal Vidhyalay! He believed that since 4th standard-when he first got the glasses-that Kumble was the greatest bowler in India and so shall he be. One day.

And when playing against 6th B one Saturday, he had pleaded to the P.T. Master, that he would rescue the situation with leg spin. So what if he had been curtly sent back to Long Leg and directed to throw on the first bounce and not sprain his arm in attempting a direct hit. Rajiv- the son of Colonel Singh of 4 Para, and the ex officio captain of the class-was never ashamed of regularly getting out in less than 4 balls as long as his kit was being used by the entire team in all its loyalty. Amit did contribute 12 runs off 19 balls even if he got to play only the last 19 balls of the innings. He had never nursed the ambition to top score, especially with Karan at 2 down. Karan was the best bat in Ravindra and the teachers pet as well. And most girls thought his red StreetCat was very cool.

Amit had been beseeching his father to enroll him for the summer camp at the Municipality Ground for 2 years now but the Steno at L.I.C.'s M.G. Road branch couldn't tell his son that the kit in the window of Prime Sports in Sadar Bazar was a little too pressing on his budget, so he was promised a new school bag when school reopened.

By the time he was in 8th standard, Amit had been a member of the Elegant Cricket Club for 6 months. The monthly subscription of 50 rupees coming from his pocket money and a beneficent dadaji. Every morning from 5 to 7:30, he played at the club's ground-the part of land that had housed the Diesel Loco Workshop till electric locomotives had been introduced and the workshop shifted to a mile further towards the station-and from 5:30 to 7:30 in the evenings, after his Math tuitions and before his English classes. He had even managed to own Karan's "SS" bat that he had discarded last year to graduate to an "SG". This one had the famous green and yellow striped grip on the thick handle that Amit had always dreamed of holding in his hands. He could hardly believe it when on casual mention Karan had gifted the bat to him. Since then, he had always invited Karan on his birthday party. The club boasted of such heroes as Dev Negi of 10 C from his school and the 'Toofan Mail'- Kamlesh Mehta of Y.P.S. Kamlesh was famous throughout the circuit for having failed twice in 9th and also for the maximum 'retired hurts' on his bowling.
Amit loved being the number 9 for in this phase of his career.

The World Cup of 1996 had brought with it such collectibles as the Coke Sipper, the Pepsi Cap autographed by Sachin and Kambli and the Centre Fresh Pocket book. Amit had earlier collected the maximum runs in the Big Fun wrappers before the company's intent of giving the promised bat had turned into a cunning marketing tactic-something his dad had always thrown at his unwilling ears. But now, in 1999, it was difficult to convince mummy to continue with the cable connection. Boards were still 8 months away but mummy was adamant on not letting Amit repeat his performance of 67 from 9th standard.

It was not so difficult, though, to get permission for 'joint studies' at Karan's house every afternoon.