Misha Trivedi Bhaiya

Every week, my bhaiya (big brother) bats against his opponents on the cricket field. I used to begrudgingly follow him to his games, thinking they were nothing more than the same repeated action. However, I’ve realised that his passions aren’t different to my own – he swings his bat just like I sweep charcoal across paper. He stands in our backyard after a gruelling cricket match, a stark loss. The cricket helmet, a symbol of his identity, casts dark shadows on his face. His clothes are crumpled and worn, but the lessons he learns in life are immeasurable, and they will follow him.