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Belt marks on his back give the testimony of the l

Belt marks on his back give the testimony of the life he lives. I imagine his mother looking at her son from the beyond and crying silent tears. (story in caption) *Nannu and his fate* All the boys playing cricket in the village ground are below twelve years of age. Among them, the most noticeable boy is Nannu. I have played enough cricket in my life to know which boy is really playing cricket and which boy is just spending (wasting) time. I sit near the long on boundary and observe Nannu. The boy who has won my heart by the way he plays. He isn't the most perfect fielder but he dives around like a force. A force that wouldn't take a loss at any cost. His head sinks below whenever his bowler goes for some runs. He jumps the highest in the air when a wicket falls. And he gets sad when he loses a game. I see his aliveness and see my own self from a few years ago. Nannu is my reflection in many ways. When he bats left handed I know he is never going to be anywhere near a good batsman. But his eyes are full of passion. The balls he misses are still the ones where he threw all his life. His bowling is irregular too, but the way he runs shows the spirit he possesses. He is not a perfect fielder, batsman or a bowler but he is sure a complete cricketer. And I care about complete cricketers.
Belt marks on his back give the testimony of the life he lives. I imagine his mother looking at her son from the beyond and crying silent tears. (story in caption) *Nannu and his fate* All the boys playing cricket in the village ground are below twelve years of age. Among them, the most noticeable boy is Nannu. I have played enough cricket in my life to know which boy is really playing cricket and which boy is just spending (wasting) time. I sit near the long on boundary and observe Nannu. The boy who has won my heart by the way he plays. He isn't the most perfect fielder but he dives around like a force. A force that wouldn't take a loss at any cost. His head sinks below whenever his bowler goes for some runs. He jumps the highest in the air when a wicket falls. And he gets sad when he loses a game. I see his aliveness and see my own self from a few years ago. Nannu is my reflection in many ways. When he bats left handed I know he is never going to be anywhere near a good batsman. But his eyes are full of passion. The balls he misses are still the ones where he threw all his life. His bowling is irregular too, but the way he runs shows the spirit he possesses. He is not a perfect fielder, batsman or a bowler but he is sure a complete cricketer. And I care about complete cricketers.
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