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4

Prose

It was the Last Amla

Basant Hantal

I was born in such a village which was situated in a deep and dense forest. I had climbed on the trees, jumping from one branch to other branches and collected flowers and fruits. But I was never aware of the game of cricket. I had spent my primary school life under a giant Tamarind tree in my village. The unique perspective of school was when the tree shaded its leaves or heavy rains there would be a holiday. The truth was that I attended a few days, a few weeks, a few months and a few years at my village school. Sometimes a little bit of concentration wins over the meditations. I found it was true when I was selected in the JNVST entrance. Then after I entered Navodaya Vidyalaya for the motives to excellence in education. But the Navodaya is not the maker of Bookworms; It has a prospective view of all round development. It took extra co-curricular activities hand in hand with education. I participated in various competitions like songs, dances, dramas, speeches, debate, quizzes and the game events. But I don't know why I suffered from cricket fever. In sixth standard I used to collect the ball when seniors hitted it beyond the boundary. One day I was watching a match between Shiwalik House versus Nilgiri House. I felt so sad that they lost the ball in between the saru leaves. I also started searching for the ball with my seniors.
Abhi, one of my closest senior, came near and told me, “ We lost the ball;why did you join?”
I simply replied, “ It's to my satisfaction.”
I felt so happy to tell you that I am the organiser of Navodaya Premier League in my school in twelfth standard and my team was the runners up. When I hit one six then I felt I am Hardik Pandya.
After my Navodaya life I returned to my village and before joining the Higher education I used to participate in various agricultural practices and the foremost was grazing cows and goats. Did you know there is no paracetamol for cricket fever? Even without proper equipment, I still felt the symptoms of cricket. One evening I ran into the forest near an Amla tree and a Bamboo plant. I made a bat with Bamboo and collected Amla fruits as the balls. I just threw it and hit it one by one with different styles of shots. It was the last Amla; I felt it was the last Ball and the bowler would go for yorker therefore I hitted helicopter shot. I missed connecting the Amla and my Bamboo bat threw away into the bushes. I went there to collect my bat. Surprisingly I found a nest and chicks in the nest. But the sad thing was that the mother bird died from my Bamboo bat. As they were too small, I decided to bring all the chicks to my home. Two months I took care of them and then after I left them in that same place where I had brought them.

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