Kapitel 70: Innocent Offering
The revelation stirred panic within me. Watched? But why? Before I could gather my thoughts, the caller continued, an undercurrent of sarcasm lacing his words, "We've seen your bets. We've seen your winnings. You're quite lucky, Mr. Chaudhary."
Feeling cornered, I attempted to feign ignorance. "I don't know what you're talking about."
The sharp retort that followed made my heart lurch, "Let's not play games, Mr. Chaudhary. We know who you are, and we know why you need the money."
The bustling world around me seemed to come to a standstill. How did they know about my situation? The voice continued, breaking through my spiralling thoughts, "You have a match against the South African team on December 1, 2006."
The information left me reeling. My cricketing career, a realm I considered separate from my current struggles, was now under scrutiny. Trembling with fear, I barely managed to whisper, "What do you want?"
The offer that followed resonated in the uncomfortable silence, "We can help you with your mother's hospital bills. In return, you'll do as we say during the match."
The call ended abruptly, leaving me stranded in the middle of Mumbai's thriving streets, the weight of the proposition sinking me into despair.
Caught in this deadly crossfire, I was torn between the essence of my cricketing spirit and my desperate need to save my mother. The decision loomed like a monstrous specter, its daunting presence consuming my thoughts.
The path ahead seemed fraught with moral complexities and life-altering decisions. This was a game far more challenging than any cricket match, a game I was compelled to play for the sake of those I held dear.
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As the evening gave way to night, the hustle and bustle of outside slowly began to dim, yielding to the quiet lull of the late hours.
Amidst this tranquility, the apartment seemed to have entered its own muted calm, the only exception being the forgotten ice creams chilling in the refrigerator.
With dinner done and the dishes put away, we retreated to our corners of the small rented room. Shreya, the day's fatigue weighing on her young shoulders, drifted off into a peaceful sleep.
Her soft, rhythmic breathing was the room's lullaby, a soothing backdrop against the simmering turmoil in my mind. Nana, who'd been observing me with his old, wise eyes, finally broke the silence.
"Vipin, are you awake?" he called softly from his makeshift bed on the floor. His voice was low, respectful of the room's hushed ambiance.
"Yes," I replied, my gaze fixed on the ceiling above me, my thoughts lost in the chaos of the proposition I'd been made.
"I see something troubling you. Care to share?" His tone was gentle, yet his words cut through my wall of silence. They resonated with a grandfather's genuine concern, gently prodding at the thoughts I had kept hidden.
I sighed, choosing honesty over denial. "Nana, you know about the 90 lakh rupees we need for Ma's treatment... I'm struggling to figure out how we can gather such a large amount."
Nana's quiet sigh echoed in the room, a sound heavy with memories and regrets. He'd been through a lot, seen more of life than any of us. His wisdom, garnered from his years, bore the weight of invaluable life lessons.
"I've told you before, Vipin, and I'll repeat it again," Nana said, his voice raspy but firm. "We have a big house in the village. It's not much, but selling it might lighten our load."
His words hung in the room, creating an unspoken dialogue between us. The house was our ancestral home, a place brimming with happy memories. Selling it would feel like we're trading a part of our history, our identity. But, was there another choice?
I remained silent, my mind grappling with Nana's suggestion and the dubious offer from the anonymous caller. I was being pulled in opposite directions – the desolation of potentially losing our family home or the trepidation of risking my cricketing passion.
The decision was far from easy. Caught between my desperate need to arrange for Ma's treatment and my ethical obligation towards cricket, my future seemed to be teetering on a precarious edge.
The familiar room, the soft breathing of Shreya, and Nana's quiet presence all were a stark contrast to the tumult inside me.
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Returning from the hospital that day, a figure sat by the door, her small silhouette outlined by the setting sun's warm glow. As I approached, I recognized her - it was Shreya. Her eyes had a kind of earnest anticipation in them, like she was waiting for something, or rather, someone.
"Looking for someone?" I asked gently, trying to mask the exhaustion in my voice.
She nodded, her fingers fiddling with something in her hand.
"Who might that be?"
With a moment's hesitation, she finally admitted, "You." She slowly extended her hand towards me, her small fist clenched around something. In her palm, lay five shiny coins - five rupees.
"Shreya, what's this? Do you need something?" I questioned, confusion sweeping across my face. "If you want anything, just let me know, I'll buy it for you."
She shook her head, her eyes never leaving mine. "No... I... Will this help Aunty in her treatment?" Her voice was quiet, barely a whisper in the quiet apartment. "I heard you yesterday...you need money. Will this help? I returned the ice creams. I don't really like them that much. Will this money help?"
Her words struck me like a bolt of lightning, leaving me speechless. In her innocence, Shreya had offered her tiny savings, her contribution towards the colossal sum we needed. This small gesture, as innocent and simple as it may seem, was full of raw, unadulterated love and concern.
It reflected the selfless love that is so unique to children - willing to give up their happiness for the sake of others.
Tears welled up in my eyes.
Overwhelmed, I bent down to her level, took her into my arms and hugged her tightly. Her tiny body fit perfectly in my embrace, her warmth seeping into me, filling me with a renewed sense of hope and determination.
At that moment, I knew what I had to choose.
Wöchentlicher Energiestatus
-- Power-
Rangliste 
-- Power-
Stein