My winter holidays had just begun, and we used to play cricket all day long in our garden. My aunt’s family had come down from Mumbai to spend the holidays with us.
One day, as my friends and I were playing cricket, my uncle who came down to the garden, asked us if he could bat for an over or two. We readily agreed. I handed the ball over to Prem, the fastest bowler of our team. He rubbed the ball and went back to mark his run up. He was excited and delivered the ball with full force. My uncle came forward and smashed the ball against the windowpane for a six. There was a loud noise as the glass shattered into pieces. We were petrified as we saw our elders coming out into the garden with big frowns on their faces, that were turning red with anger. As they were about to scold us, they saw the bat in my uncle’s hand and were out of words.
My grandfather asked if everyone was fine, and no one got hurt. He then told our staff to clean up the area. My friends and I started laughing aloud as the elders went inside the house. Just then our uncle winked at us and gave us a mischievous smile.
Chetan Dev Patodia is a student of Word Munchers, a Kolkata-based creative writing platform.
Chetan is 10 years old and is fond of playing cricket. His hobbies are drawing, painting and playing chess. He likes to read books by Enid Blyton and Ruskin Bond.
