I looked heavenwards. My stoic eyes searched for him. He already appeared far-away though barely 48 hours had passed since I cremated my father.
But for a soldier, emotion is an unaffordable luxury.
‘You have to battle on,’ I told myself, as I acknowledged the applause, put back my helmet and lowered my MRF bat.
[Author’s Note: There was a man who lost his father during the middle of the 1999 cricket World Cup. Shocked and shaken, he flew back to his native country, performed the final rites and returned to play one of the most emotionally inspiring innings (140 not out) ever seen on the cricket pitch. This piece has been penned from his perspective.]