Diya, a sweet coquettish and a poison of her alma mater. In her thirties, she looked no less than the young lasses whom she taught. Equally attractive and tempting. Her dad was a prominent industrialist of the city. Living in a community dominated by businessmen he arranged meetups with lads of his contemporaries to put forth her marriage gizmo. But she had something else in her mind. She was never keen to marry rich-young-perfect guys. Instead she dreamt for a hero; a hero on his own.
Aaryan, the hero. A dark tall guy; university champion who bagged the best athlete award almost every year. He was the captain of State Cricket Team and on the final edge of making his way into the National Team. Things got big for him; he was selected for a Carrebian tour where he got to prove his potential. He played some good innings there and made people notice him. He gleamed as a new pin-up hero of the most popular sport in the country. He achieved acme of success. A big fan following and the never-ending attention was what made him hero of his college. A geek turned stud; the stud whom all girls wished to bite.
He loved basking in sunny limelight of his success. He would woo stupid girls and have some good time with them. He would narrate them his heroics as a cricketer and obviously no girl was left unimpressed. Diya was one of them. “You can date your hot teachers” was one of the advantages of being a cricketer; barring heaps of notes with RBI imprints that keep coming in.
“It was the third game in the series of five. Having lost all previous ones, victory was the only way. Mack, the skipper of opposite team won the toss and instructed his openers to tighten their gloves. He chose to bat first and managed putting a big sum on it. India almost lost it, with couple of early dismissals, the line up continued to bundle up. A debutant on crease with a bowler, barely able to bat; victory seemed too unclear. Ball by ball, breathe by breathe, runs got adding in. I managed to stay till last. Last ball, six runs needed and wild swing of my bat. The ball landed in audience and a crowd of millions ranted my name. I was God that day.” He would tell and girls would get impressed. Diya was not an exception. Soon they got to be friends, met at cafes, restaurants and last at night clubs. Chemistry was fully cooked and the time came for one of them to take the initiative. Sensing it, Diya proceeded.
“You’re hero, a type of hero whom I can’t say ‘NO’; no matter what he demands.” She said.
Sensing rightly what she meant, he decided to express his love for her. He did it, she accepted it. A decision waited to be passed by the father whose mind kept changing sides.
“My life belongs to my lover and my knowledge to my father.” Diya said. “I love my man a bit more than I love my dad. It’s difficult for a girl to do that, but after all my mother too did the same. She left her father to be with you.” Diya explained.
A father was speechless. Was it a daughter’s intelligence or dad’s carelessness in taming his daughter? The questioned narked his intelligence.
Love was taken up to next level, the marriage. It was too early to make a decision that early but love had all that ability to clear up hurdles in their way. They got very few days to live in a different equation as the team needed him. He flied to Australia for next contest. She too preferred accompanying her hubby than enjoying the concept of marriage.