Across the Line

by Nayanika Mahtani

  ‘Mangoes are in season,’ announced Adeela, slicing through the silence. ‘Inaya, will you go to the kitchen and get some for us please?’

  Inaya rose quickly, grateful for this heaven-sent respite from all the awkwardness that had descended into the proceedings.

  ‘Should I help?’ offered Habib, just as keen to make his escape from the war zone.

  ‘They’re mangoes not mountains, Habib,’ snapped Humaira. ‘I think she will manage without your help.’

  Inaya returned with half a dozen luscious mangoes.

  ‘D’you know, when we were growing up, Inaya,’ said Adeela, as she cut them and handed them around, ‘Our father would get these mangoes for us, all the way from Bombay—’

  Humaira, who was halfway through biting into a slice, spat it out. ‘Are these Alphonso mangoes? What’s wrong with you, Adeela? Why couldn’t you buy our own Pakistani chaunsa mangoes?’

  Adeela shook her head wistfully, ‘You’d fight me over these mangoes when we were little, Humaira Aapa. What has happened to you? Just listen to yourself—do trees and fruit also have to be Indian or Pakistani?’

  Humaira pushed her chair back and flounced out of the room in a huff. Adeela looked at Habib and Inaya quizzically. ‘You can leave these mangoes too, if you like,’ she said. ‘I’ll buy the chaunsa for you tomorrow.’

  ‘It’s against my religion to say no to any mango,’ said Habib, taking a big, slurping bite. Inaya grinned and followed suit.

  Later that night, after everyone had gone to bed, Inaya decided to sneak downstairs for a slice of the chocolate cake that Habib had secretly bought for them. She knew it wasn’t a good idea to eat cake in the middle of the night before a match, but eating only vegan food was taking its toll on Inaya. She felt like a car running on an empty fuel tank, with a sadly sputtering engine.

  When Inaya tiptoed into the kitchen, she saw someone standing by the gas stove. She squinted in the semi-darkness to get a better look—just then, the person turned around. In the feeble light of the gas flame, a pair of glasses glinted and Inaya recognized the silhouette. It was her grandfather. Was he sleepwalking again? Why was he near the stove? Why was he wearing his spectacles if he was asleep? Should she wake him?

  Inaya flipped on the switch for the kitchen lights, ‘Daada?’

  There was no response. She looked at her grandfather’s face. His eyes were wide open, but he didn’t seem to be aware of her presence. When she drew closer, she noticed that his spectacles were fogged up—and then realized with a shock that he was holding a saucepan filled to the brim with boiling water. She quickly took the pan from him and switched off the gas flame.

  ‘Daada, are you okay?’ Habib looked at her and then reached into the pocket of his dressing gown and patted around.

  ‘It’s not there,’ he said, almost to himself.

  ‘What’s not there, Daada?’

  ‘My ro—’

  But before he could finish his sentence, Humaira entered the room.

  ‘There you are, Habib!’ she said. ‘I woke up and your side of the bed was empty.’ It was then that Humaira noticed what Inaya was holding. She swiftly took the pan of boiling water from Inaya and emptied it into the sink.

  ‘He does that sometimes. He tries to make tea—I’ve told him time and again to use the electric kettle,’ said Humaira. ‘He forgot his medication again, Inaya. Don’t worry—go back to bed. Everything is just fine.’

  It was ‘that voice’ again. Everything was far from fine.

  ‘That boiling water was about to fall on Daada’s feet, Daadi . . . ’

  ‘It looks that way, but it never happens,’ said Humaira dismissively. ‘You have an important match tomorrow, my kishmish. Go, go and rest now.’

  Inaya reluctantly left the room, tumultuous thoughts crashing through her head, making her even forget about her craving for cake.

  What was going on with Daada? And why was Daadi brushing everything aside as if it was so trivial?

  Glorious Uncertainties

  The stadium, if you could call it that, was the cricket field of the Paddington Recreation Ground. A large billboard announced: ‘Tapeball4All League Tournament, sponsored by Nabeel’s Kitchen’. Inaya sat with the rest of her Curry Cruisers teammates, chewing at her stubby fingers as she awaited her turn to bat.

  ‘And tape-ball cricket is even more gloriously uncertain than regular cricket is!’ declared the commentator who seemed either to have had too much coffee, or was generally an overexcitable sort. ‘Eleven-a-side, 8 overs per innings and no fielding restrictions—really sets the scene for some fast-paced entertainment. And so, in this game of glorious uncertainties, let’s see if the Curry Cruisers from Asia—comprising players from India, Pakistan and Bangladesh—can save the day. The Chippy Champs team from Europe—comprising players from the UK and Ireland—have batted first and raised an impressive score of 141 from 8 overs. That is an absolutely brilliant score in this Under 16s tournament. Will the Curry Cruisers be able to beat that total?’

  The skipper of the Chippy Champs side, Simone Donnelly, was in fine form. When it was her turn to bat, she had smashed almost every Curry Cruisers bowler all over the park—and was now getting her bowlers to keep the run rate of the Curry Cruisers well in check.

  Inaya was star-struck as she watched Simone, who was England’s biggest female star of tape-ball. Simone, a tall strapping girl, had grown up in Birmingham playing tape-ball cricket with a bunch of children of Pakistani origin in her neighbourhood. Twenty an over was a routine achievement for her—earning her a following not only in England but in Pakistan and Dubai as well.

  The Curry Cruisers had a mammoth 142-run target facing them. Their skipper Shaheen along with the other opener, got off to a very respectable start, scoring 34 runs in the first 2 overs. But then Shaheen fell victim to a superb delivery. In the next 3 overs, the next pair put on a valuable 51-run partnership, but soon after, they were both out to successive balls.

  This brought Inaya Haider and Lubna Ahsan in to bat. Inaya tapped her foot nervously as she looked at the scoreboard. Three wickets down and they were only at 85. They had to score 57 in the remaining 3 overs in order to win. It was a hugely ambitious ask. Lubna was the more experienced player, but Inaya had kept the scoreboard ticking too—and in the next 2 overs, they managed to rack up a commendable 29 runs.

  The last over arrived. The Curry Cruisers needed 28 to win off 6 balls. Inaya was on strike. Judith Jones, who had an outstanding record in the death overs, was brought in to bowl. The first ball of the over was a bouncer. It went high over Inaya’s shoulder, sailed over the outstretched gloves of the wicketkeeper and bounced to the boundary for 4 byes. The umpire called it a wide. Inaya’s heart was racing, even as she thanked her lucky stars for those much-needed runs and the extra ball.

  Six balls, 23 runs needed.

  Judith came up to deliver the next ball.

  ‘ . . . the Curry Cruisers will really need to pull off a miracle here,’ said the commentator. ‘I’d say there isn’t much left in the game now . . . ’

  Inaya flicked it on the leg side for a 4.

  ‘Oh, that’s a surprisingly lovely shot there,’ effused the commentator, in a sudden change of tone. ‘Haider is managing to keep her nerve even under pressure.’

  Five balls, 19 runs needed.

  Inaya looked around the field, mentally mapping the placement of the fielders. She tried to smash the next ball for 4 runs through a gap in the field, but it caught the edge of her bat and flew high, towards the boundary.

  ‘Oh, that looks like it will be caught!’ said the commentator, his voice going an octave higher with every word he spoke, ‘And it is!’

  Inaya looked crestfallen. But seconds later, the commentator was on the air, all energized again.

  ‘A bit of a wobble there, has the fielder lost her balance? Oops. It does look like her foot has crossed the boundary rope. Well, well, well. What can I say? The match is back on. Inaya Haider is not out and the
last delivery will now count for 6 runs.’

  Inaya felt a surge of relief course through her. She took a deep breath. She must not waste this precious second chance she’d got. Now the Curry Cruisers needed 13 runs off 4 balls. Inaya was on strike. She managed to edge the ball into a gap in the fielding. Inaya and Lubna raced furiously, scoring 2 runs. The fielder threw the ball back to the bowler’s end, but the bowler fumbled, giving the Curry Cruisers an extra run for the misfield. And bringing Lubna Ahsan on strike.

  Ten runs needed and 3 balls to go.

  The next ball almost clean bowled Lubna, skimming her bat and skidding just out of the reach of the wicketkeeper. Lubna was already tearing down the pitch for a single—and then decided to come back for a second. There was no second run in that—it was a hugely risky decision, but Lubna was more than halfway down the pitch by now. Inaya figured that if she didn’t run, the fielder would throw the ball to the wicketkeeper, who was waiting to whip off the bails, and Lubna would be run out. Inaya decided to go for the run. Seeing her attempt this impossible run, the fielder scooped up the ball and threw it at the non-striker’s end. Inaya flung herself and her outstretched bat on to the crease. The ball hit the wickets dead on, knocking the bails off. The Chippy Champs team went up in a synchronized ‘Howzaaat?’

  Inaya held her breath, waiting for the verdict. Seconds later, a cheer went up amongst the Chippy Champs players. Inaya didn’t even bother looking at the umpire for his decision and started walking off the pitch. She had blown her chance. This was the end of the road for her. Lubna looked absolutely crushed as Inaya walked past her.

  ‘I’m sorry about that, Inaya—’ she began.

  Inaya shrugged it off and walked on ahead. Then she turned around and came back to Lubna.

  ‘On a pitch like this, Judith tends to bowl a slow ball followed by a yorker in her death overs. Watch out for that.’

  Lubna listened with her head cocked to a side and nodded ever so slightly.

  The new batter, Dayita, was in and the Curry Cruisers now needed 9 off the last 2 balls to win. Skipper Simone signalled to her fielders to go towards the boundary—the only way the Curry Cruisers could make 9 runs off 2 balls was with at least one 6.

  Judith took a longer time than usual for her run-up. Lubna was watching the ball with singular focus. Everyone was expecting Judith’s famous yorker, but this ball was far slower. As it dipped and moved away, Lubna timed it perfectly, hitting it into the stands for 6 runs. Dayita met her in the middle of the wicket and fist-bumped her.

  ‘That was brilliant, Lubna,’ she said. ‘We’re almost there.’

  But Lubna was not even listening. She was in the zone, watching Judith and Simone, as they discussed the field settings and how the last ball should be bowled. Lubna took a look around the field to see where the fielders were. She took it all in and returned her focus to watching the ball. As soon as it left Judith’s hands, Lubna knew it was a yorker. She stepped back into her crease, turned the yorker into a half-volley and got under it, hitting it with a satisfying meat-of-the-bat thud. The ball sped to the boundary for a thumping 4.

  Within moments, the entire Curry Cruisers team was on the field. Lubna came charging across the pitch, bent down and lifted Inaya up. Both girls collapsed on the ground, laughing.

  ‘We did it, Inaya! We won—can you even believe it?’

  ‘You did it, Lubna,’ said Inaya. ‘And no, I can’t believe any of this—’

  ‘Hey, girls,’ said a voice behind them.

  Inaya looked up to see Simone Donnelly, the skipper of the Chippy Champs.

  ‘Oh, hi Simone,’ said Inaya, rather taken aback.

  Lubna jumped to her feet.

  ‘Hi Simone.’

  Simone smiled and extended her hand to Inaya, who was still sitting on the ground. Inaya took her hand and Simone helped her up to her feet.

  ‘That was a great win—well played, girls,’ she said. ‘And by the way, your team spirit is tops, Inaya. Looking forward to seeing lots more of you both.’

  ‘Thanks,’ mumbled Inaya and Lubna, quite overcome.

  ‘By the way, you probably know this, but you’re absolutely brilliant, Simone,’ said Lubna. ‘I’m a bit of a fangirl,’ she added, beaming brightly.

  ‘Oh, I think you both have me as a fan now,’ said Simone.

  She smiled and ran back to her teammates. Inaya and Lubna watched her go, in silence. Then Lubna plucked a blade of grass from the ground and held it up to the sky.

  ‘I swear, by this blade of grass, that I will remember this day for the rest of my life,’ she proclaimed.

  ‘I have to say—you’re quite the drama queen, Lubna,’ said Inaya, trying to keep the excitement out of her voice. ‘What’s the fuss about? This is just like any other day.’

  ‘You’re right,’ said Lubna. ‘Except that we’ve just defeated a brilliant side. On their home ground. In our debut match. And Simone Donnelly just said that she’s our fan.’

  Both girls looked at each other and let out unbridled squeals of joy.

  Stalkers

  Inaya walked out of the Paddington Recreation Ground with Lubna, chatting away nineteen to the dozen. Even though she hadn’t shone in her performance as much as she had hoped to, she was elated that her team had won the match.

  ‘So, where in Pakistan are you from, Lubna?’

  ‘I’m from Bangladesh, actually.’

  Inaya stopped dead in her tracks.

  ‘Seriously? Your name is so Pakistani—and you even look like, well, one of us,’ she said, taking a closer look at Lubna.

  ‘Yeah—it’s hard to tell,’ grinned Lubna. ‘I mistook some of the Indian girls on our team to be from Bangladesh too. Have you ever been to Bangladesh, by the way?’

  ‘Nope. But isn’t Bangladesh close to where Jhulan Goswami is from?’

  ‘Pretty close. Just across the border. You like her, huh?’

  Inaya nodded.

  ‘I too think she’s amazing,’ said Lubna. ‘In fact, my grandmother originally comes from the same town as her family does—Chakdaha in West Bengal.’

  ‘What! How awesome is that? Why would anyone leave the town where Jhulan comes from?’

  ‘I know, right? I asked them the same question—they said the Partition happened,’ Lubna shrugged.

  As they waited at a zebra crossing, Inaya noticed a familiar face bobbing up and down in the crowd of people approaching them. Inaya grabbed Lubna’s arm and made her do an about-turn.

  ‘Come with me,’ she said. ‘It’s lunchtime—and I’ve just seen someone who has a good nose for food. Let’s just follow him.’

  ‘What? You’re crazy, Inaya.’

  ‘Trust me. This will be fun,’ said Inaya, with a wicked grin.

  And so, unbeknownst to Jai, he was being stalked by the twosome. This time though, he wasn’t headed to eat. It was his mother’s birthday the next week and he was out looking for a gift for her. He boarded a bus headed for Oxford Street, oblivious to the fact that both Inaya and Lubna had also hopped on to the same bus. When he got off, so did they.

  As he drifted along Oxford Street with the throng of other tourists, Jai kicked himself for not having bought his mother something in India with Rusty’s help—like he always did. If there was anything Jai hated, it was shopping. He hated making decisions, especially those that had to do with buying things, and it was so much worse when he had to choose on someone else’s behalf. The very thought of entering any of these shops and being approached by an overzealous salesperson gave him cold feet. Just as he was on the verge of giving up and turning back, he spotted The Body Shop. He remembered having seen some of their products on his mother’s dressing table. Perhaps he could just get her something from here.

  Five paces behind him, Inaya watched, rather nonplussed. This was an unexpected detour—certainly not what she had expected.

  ‘You said your friend was some sort of restaurant expert?’ whispered Lubna, as they entered the shop as well.

 
‘I wouldn’t call him that!’ Inaya whispered back. ‘But he has a knack for ordering the right dishes.’

  ‘So, what should we eat here, Inaya?’ said Lubna. ‘Delicious mango body butter?’

  Inaya burst out laughing. On hearing her laughter ring out, Jai, who was trying to make sense of the papaya face mask, looked around, swamped in dread.

  ‘No, no, please don’t let it be her,’ thought Jai in desperation. But it was. That Pesky Girl. Again.

  Inaya grinned widely at him.

  ‘I’d really recommend that face mask actually,’ she said. ‘Papaya is great for a glowing complexion and its strong aroma masks all other odours—so you can actually go without bathing for weeks.’

  Lubna started to chuckle. The tips of Jai’s ears started to turn a shade of scarlet.

  ‘It’s not for me,’ he bridled.

  ‘Oh right. How silly of me. Were you buying it for someone special?’ asked Inaya, loading the question with innuendo.

  ‘No—I mean, yes,’ said Jai.

  At this point, Lubna’s chuckles became hysterical and high-pitched. Jai glared at her. As if one pesky girl wasn’t bad enough, now there were two.

  ‘By the way, meet my friend, Lubna,’ said Inaya.

  ‘Hi,’ said Lubna.

  Jai mumbled an awkward hello.

  ‘It’s sweet that you’re getting something for a special someone,’ said Lubna, winking at Inaya.

  ‘I’m getting late,’ said Jai, returning the papaya face mask to the shelf. ‘I need to go.’

  ‘Er, before you leave, could you recommend where we could have lunch nearby?’ asked Inaya.

  ‘Tomoe Sushi is supposed to have amazing salmon nigiri according to BBC Good Food magazine,’ said Jai, almost automatically, before exiting the shop as fast as he could.

  Lubna turned to Inaya.

  ‘Hmm. So, you like him, huh? Not a bad choice, Inaya—he seems the thoughtful, romantic sort—spending time choosing gifts and all.’

  ‘Like him? You must be joking, Lubna! The only thing halfway decent about him is his knowledge of food.’