Evening Journal Entry
Date: [May 2 , 2026]
Time: Late night, just after getting home
What a day. What an absolute riot of a day.
The match started around 5 o’clock in the evening. The light was just perfect—not too harsh, that golden hour before dusk. We split into two teams.
Our Team (The Underdogs? Maybe.): Me, Jaggi Bhai, Ashok, Dhodya Kaka, Ammi, and one child—Vishnu.
Their Team (The Favorites): Dada Bhai Balram, Ankit, Rishi (their captain, and a smug one at that), and three children who, I must admit, are quite good for their age.
I lost the toss to Rishi. Of course I did. He chose to bat first.
The Bowling Bleeding:
Ashok (whom we lovingly call Shrishant of our village) took the first over. Rishi and Balram opened. Disaster. They smashed 23 runs in the very first over. Ashok was hit for 2 sixes and 2 fours. The first six sailed over fine leg, the second was a flat hit over mid-on. The ball disappeared like it owed them money.
I came on for the second over. Slightly better—they managed 11 runs. Balram hit me for a six on the leg side and a four through point. But I got my revenge. I bowled him in the same over. Score: 1/34 after 2 overs.
Ashok bowled a tight third over—only 3 runs. 1/37 (3 overs).
I bowled the 4th over. Contained them well—just 6 runs. 2/43 (4 overs).
We kept chipping away. By the end of their 6 overs, we had strangled them completely. They finished at 6/45
Honestly, after that first over, 45 felt like a victory for us.
The Chase & The Turning Point:
We needed 46 runs in 6 overs. Easy on paper. But in a village match, paper means nothing.
Ashok and Jaggi Bhai opened the batting. First over: 0/6. Second over: 0/7. Slow, steady. Then the third over brought a wicket—1/18.
I walked in next. The pressure was real.
Then came the moment. The turning point. Rishi, their captain, was bowling. He had been running his mouth all evening. I don’t know what came over me—maybe the mustard oil story from Jaggi Bhai was still in my head—but I decided I’d had enough.
I hit Rishi for three sixes in a row.
The first one sailed over long-on. The second over wide long-off. The third? I closed my eyes and swung—it cleared the boundary by a mile. The field went silent. My team went wild. That was it—the match turned on its head. We won in the very last over.
The Story That Killed Us (With Laughter):
After the match, while we were catching our breath, Jaggi Bhai told a story that made everyone double over.
He said: *“Once we decided to cook chicken at home, but couldn’t. So we decided to cook on the mountain nearby. We went there with a clay pot because no other pot was allowed to be taken to the hills. Also, cooking chicken on the mountain? Not allowed. But we were doing it secretly, without telling our parents. We had 250 grams of mustard oil. The clay pot was bone-dry—we didn’t know any better. As soon as we poured the mustard oil into the pot, the clay just… drank it. All of it. Gone. Absorbed in a second. We just stood there staring. Half angry, half laughing our heads off.”*
We all lost it. Even Ammi, who rarely laughs loudly, was wiping tears.
Final Mood:
We walked home in the dark, still chuckling. Everyone went inside their houses with a happy, light heart. No arguments. No grudges. Just pure cricket and friendship.
And the best part? We are gathering back tomorrow morning to play again.
I can’t wait.
Leave a Reply