26: Lines Crossed

26 August 2000

Bharath sat on the edge of his Goa hotel bed, legs dangling, towel still around his neck from the morning shower. The sea air wafted through the half-cracked window, thick with salt and monsoon humidity. But it wasn’t the air that made him feel heavy.

It was the silence.

No Kim’s humming from the bathroom. No Celina dressed in just a t-shirt refusing to get off his lap - even in front of his father. No Priya rolling her eyes at the headlines. No Anya pulling him back into bed and demanding ‘five more minutes’.

He missed them so much his body ached from the memories.

He couldn’t wait anymore. He needed to at least hear their voices again. He dialed the apartment landline. The landline at the apartment ran once, twice...

“Hello?”

Kim’s voice, soft and bright.

His heart lifted listening to his goddess’ voice.

“Hey,” he said, his voice deeper than usual. “Did I wake you?”

“Mmmm ... Good morning jaan. No. We’ve been up for ten minutes. Just lying here. Dreaming about you.”

A shuffle followed. Then Anya: “You’re calling late, birthday boy.”

“It’s not my birthday anymore,” he said with a grin.

“You’re our birthday boy forever,” Celina’s voice chimed in.

They put him on speakerphone, and he listened as all three girls piled onto the bed again. From their laughter, he could tell they were cuddled together under the sheets - and from the pause that followed, he could almost feel their shared ache.

“I miss you,” Kim said.

“Same,” Anya echoed.

Celina’s voice cracked a little. “Even your bad jokes.”

“Excuse you,” Bharath huffed. “I’m hilarious.”

They laughed, and for a moment the distance blurred.

He could hear them now - limbs tangled, laughter muffled by shared covers, the low hum of their closeness. The ache in his chest went from dull to sharp.

“So?” Anya prompted, voice lilting. “Are you just calling to be sad and sexy, or are you going to tell us how the match went?”

Kim gasped. “Oh my god, that’s right. The practice match with Dempo’s first team!”

“Don’t think you’re getting away without a play-by-play,” Celina added. “We need to hear every thigh flex and soul-crushing tackle.”

Bharath laughed, easing back onto the bed and propping one leg up. “You really want the full report?”

Three voices in perfect chorus: “Yes.”

He exhaled slowly. “Okay. But you’re not allowed to judge me.”

“That sounds like a setup for exactly the kind of story we should be judging,” Priya called faintly in the background.

Bharath grinned. “It was supposed to be a light scrimmage. Just a few senior players, no pressure. I wasn’t even nervous. Thought I’d stay clean, move the ball, earn respect quietly.”

“You?” Anya drawled. “Quietly?”

“Shush. I meant it. But then the match started.”

He paused. The moment swelled in the silence.

“It felt ... different. Like something in me had shifted since the dream. I was faster. Sharper. I didn’t even warm up properly, but my body moved like it already knew everything.”

He leaned into the memory. “First touch came to me at center. I flicked it behind me before I even looked. It landed right in the path of the winger. Perfect weight. No overthinking. Just ... flow.”

Celina’s voice softened. “The yantra?”

Bharath nodded. “It wasn’t conscious. It was instinct. But it was more than instinct. I wasn’t reading the game - I was the game. I could hear cleats shift behind me. I felt pressure coming from angles I wasn’t even facing. It was like every breath around me echoed before the players moved.”

Kim let out a breath. “God. That sounds...”

“Terrifying,” Celina finished.

“Exhilarating,” Anya corrected.

“It was both,” Bharath admitted. “One of the Dempo defenders - a big guy, six-foot, hard elbows - charged straight at me. I dropped my shoulder like I was going left, then spun right. He fell. Literally lost his footing.”

“Stop,” Kim whispered. “That’s hot.”

“Then I nutmegged their keeper in the third minute and didn’t even celebrate.”

“You monster,” Anya hissed.

“Honestly,” Bharath continued, “I think I scared the coach. There was this one moment where I flicked the ball up from a bad bounce - heel over shoulder - and volleyed it clean across the pitch, dead into the striker’s run. Even I had to pause.”

“Were they watching you like you had horns?” Celina asked.

“Worse,” he said. “They were watching me like I was cheating. Like I was wrong. And they were right.”

A pause. He lowered his voice.

“I think I let too much through. I had to dial it down in the second half. Missed an easy pass. Took an extra touch. Slowed a run on purpose just to feel ... human.”

There was a hush. Not sad, but reverent.

Then Anya spoke, soft and sly. “So let me get this straight. You ascended on the pitch like some divine midfielder, made grown men reconsider their career paths ... and then had to fake being mortal so they wouldn’t piss themselves?”

Bharath chuckled. “Something like that.”

“Okay, well,” Celina said brightly, “I’m officially so turned on I might burn the bedsheet.”

Kim added, “I have goosebumps and a cramp in my thigh. That can’t be normal.”

“Is it unethical to be horny and proud of him?” Anya asked.

“Not if we use it for good later,” Celina purred.

“You girls are ridiculous,” Bharath murmured, smiling so wide it hurt.

“We’re cold. We’re lonely. We’re in serious spiritual heat,” Anya said. “You think we don’t feel the bond getting stronger? Every time I touch myself now, it’s like there’s electricity in my fingertips. You did this.”

“I miss your mouth,” he said softly.

“You’ll have it again,” Kim promised. “Soon.”

Celina sighed dramatically. “Ugh. We should be in Goa. You should’ve taken us. We could’ve snuck into the stadium. Or the showers.”

“Oh god,” Anya said. “Imagine all of us in sarongs and bikini tops, dripping and giggling while he tries to act like a serious athlete.”

“Stop! Please! I have to go to practice soon. If you continue like this - I will be late and the coach will be angry!”

“Worth it,” they all said together.

Bharath swallowed, heat rising in his neck. “You know ... I’ve got another two days here. But we will be back soon in a couple of weeks again. That week match prep will be light - with no sessions for a couple of days. We’ll even figure out how to sneak Celina onto a flight.”

“Are you suggesting what I think you’re suggesting Mr. Bharath?” Kim’s voice went breathless.

“I could ask Biswas for a couple of days off for sightseeing. He doesn’t need to know you girls are here.”

Celina gasped. “You’re serious.”

“Dead serious.”

Anya squealed. “Tell us where to land. We’ll teleport.”

“I’ll set it up,” he promised. “You’ll see the beach, the old quarter, the training pitch. And I’ll show you where I stood. Where the yantra woke up.”

Celina whispered, “I don’t think we’ll have too much time to go sightseeing much Bharath. Do you know how many of my fantasies involve you and a beach?”

Kim murmured, “We’ll anoint every muscle you used.”

Anya grinned, voice thick with longing. “I want to ride the part of you that ruined Dempo’s keeper.”

“Kadavule!” Bharath whispered, his throat dry.

“You need us,” Kim said gently. “To help you stay balanced.”

“I do,” he said. “Every moment away from you feels ... too quiet.”

Another pause.

“Then don’t wait too long,” Celina whispered. “We’re coming, jaan. And when we do...”

“You’ll be reminded exactly why no one can touch you,” Kim finished.

He tried to recover from the visions the girls were painting by forcing the conversation to other topics. He managed to deflect the conversation by asking about their plans. Kim would check in at her hostel and update her supervisor about extended fieldwork. Anya and Priya had meetings all day for Warrior’s new campaign. Celina, quieter, mentioned she’d be working through notes from Kim and some archived material Priya left her.

When it was time to go, he hesitated.

“To each of you,” he said, voice low. “I don’t know how I survived before you. Just ... stay safe. Be happy. You’re my whole world.”

Kim murmured something he couldn’t quite hear.