This post has been published by me as a part of the Blog-a-Ton 14; the fourteenth edition of the online marathon of Bloggers; where we decide and we write. To be part of the next edition, visit and start following Blog-a-Ton.He was surprised.He was taken aback seeing that he had been doing it wrong all the time.It was supposed to be left foot forward and then bring your right foot once the bat connects the ball.The coach was explaining that to a group of students.
It was the sandy shore of one of the most famous beaches in the country.The hub for street cricket.Place where so many professionals can be spotted in the bud.Perfect weather all the time.Place where you can find people from all states of social positions.
He was listening intently,between the sounds(a lovely one that is) of the waves kissing the shore.He could not really hear much as there was a whole team of guys around the coach and he was not that tall.
The last minute lessons were over and the match begun.The ball was hit and the projectile ended near his feet.He did not make an attempt to pick up the ball.He recollected the day when he was shouted at by the coach and so many others for having caught the ball at the wrong time.
It was around 7 in the morning and yet there was a decent crowd.The usual sight for him.He usually was up by four or even three,around the time when his dad starts for his day's work.The church bell sounded seven times.he counted Seven using his fingers.
It is time he left.His mom would already be searching for him.There had been a heavy rain a couple of days back and hence today would be a long day.
His dad would come home with a good catch.He with a half-heart left the place.He had to join the other kids of his age.Would be a long day in the market.
And at a distance he saw his dad's and a couple others' boat.
He knew it was time for him to return.