Chapter 21

The Range Rover sat parked under the portico, its metallic paint catching the late afternoon glare as he dropped the shopping bags near the foyer archway.

Steps carried him up to his master suite, where he changed out of his denim jeans and polo t-shirt into loose athletic shorts and a sleeveless compression vest. Snatching his leather kit bag and the Bullet 500 keys, he descended the stairs, nodding to Rukhsar as she carried a pitcher of water toward the kitchen.

The kick-starter yielded under his boot, the motorcycle roaring to life as he guided it out of the estate gates toward the Akhara.

The soil of the wrestling pit sat freshly turned, mixed with mustard oil, buttermilk, and turmeric. Ustaad Ji stood near the wooden boundary, his white parna wrapped high over his forehead as he called out instructions.

Stripping down to his white cotton kachera, he stepped into the soft, cool earth. The physical fatigue from his morning squat session lingered in his quads, but his base remained firm.

For the next hour, he engaged in live sand-pit sparring with Pamma and two local heavyweights, working through chest-to-chest pummeling, arm drags, and low-single leg entries. Soil caked his torso and arms, the heavy manual labor of the morning blending into the raw kinetic conditioning of the pit until Ustaad Ji called an end to the session.

Dousing himself with fresh groundwater at the brick well, he wiped the wet soil off his skin with a cotton towel. Pulling his athletic shorts and t-shirt back on, he sat on the raised wooden manja under the banyan tree, where Tari Brar and Jassi Gill were lacing their leather juttis. Pamma joined them, dumping a copper jug of cold water onto the bench.

A quiet smile touched his face as he adjusted his parna, his eyes scanning the three teammates sitting around him.

“Oye, aaj subah Naanke aale khetan wal jande hoye raste ch Moga aala Jaggi milya si.” (Hey, today morning while going toward the fields at my maternal home, on the path I met Moga’s Jaggi.)

Tari stopped tying his shoe lace, looking up with sharp curiosity, while Jassi Gill shifted his weight on the wooden frame.

“Jaggi Sandhu? Oh south aale bridge te ki kar reha si?” (Jaggi Sandhu? What was he doing at the south bridge?)

“Kujh nahi, apni Scorpio raste ch add ke baitha si. Munde nu lagda ae gaddi khadi karke baat karan nal darr lag janda ae.” (Nothing, sitting blocking the path with his Scorpio. The boy feels that by parking a vehicle and talking fear applies.)

Pamma spat on the dirt, wiping sweat off his neck with his forearm.

“Ohne ki keha? District club da captain ban ke ohde dimaag ch hawa wadd gayi ae.” (What did he say? Becoming district club captain air has entered his mind.)

“Aah, kehenda Saturday aale match laye badi uchi udari maar reha ain. Mainu dhamki den di koshish kar reha si.” (Ah, he says for Saturday’s match you are taking a very high flight. He was trying to give me a threat.)

Jassi Gill let out a harsh laugh, slapping his hand against his thigh as he shook his head.

“Gaddi ch baith ke bolna sokha ae! Ground ch aave fer vekhaange ohnu.” (Sitting in a vehicle and speaking is easy! Let him come in the ground then we will see him.)

“Main vi ohnu aivein hi keha.” (I also told him just like that.)

He leaned his forearms over his knees, a playful, relaxed confidence settling into his voice, though his eyes held a firm light.

“Main keha, kutteyan te billiyan nu sher de aawan di khabar pehlan hi mil jaandi ae. Te gal sun la, Sardaar de pichhe ‘Ji’ lagda ae, oye. Aitki baksh dinda, Aagli vaar aisi sewa karunga ke Kabaddi chhad, tu taan gulli-danda khedan joga vi nahi rehna.” (I said, dogs and cats get the news of the lion’s arrival beforehand. And listen to one thing, ‘Ji’ is attached behind Sardaar, hey. Forgiving this time, next time I will do such service that forget Kabaddi, you won’t even remain fit to play gulli-danda.)