In the quiet predawn hours, a gentle voice pierced through the stillness of Shubman's room, "Wake up, Shub. Come down quickly, I need to show you something." The words, soft yet urgent, beckoned him from his slumber.

Shubman groaned, the weight of exhaustion bearing down on him. His limbs felt heavy, laden with the fatigue of a grueling cricket season. He had just returned after representing India in a series of test matches against New Zealand, a series that had culminated in a disheartening sweep—all five matches conceded to the opposition. With a heavy heart, he descended the stairs, where Shahneel awaited, her eyes wide with an urgency that mirrored the tone of her voice.

She presented to him her phone, the screen displaying a post from her Instagram account. The comments section was a maelstrom of words that struck Shubman like a physical blow. At 20 years old, with the ink barely dry on his cricketing career, the vitriol of the public was a harsh welcome to a world he was only beginning to navigate. Emotions, raw and unfiltered, surged within him, and he found solace in the embrace of Keart, who whispered words of comfort, "Calm down, baccha."

Shubman Gill getting out for 0 runs in the Test Final series against New Zealand.

Comments:

User1: If he wants to show his hopelessness, then why use the Test series? He can sit at home and do nothing.
User2: Worst U-19 player ever seen.
               User3: truee
User4: Virat and MSD were better than you in the starting. Just stay at home kiddo.
                User4: He is the most trolled cricketer now in India. Just check the other pages.

Yet, not all words spoken that day were meant to soothe. Lakwinder, whose expectations soared as high as the cricket balls Shubman was known to send across the field, voiced his disappointment with a cutting edge, "If you wanted to falter like this, then why choose this path at all? You could have pursued academics. Now, our family name has become a living joke across Punjab and India."

Shahneel attempted to interject, but Lakwinder's disappointment was a dam broken, his words flooding the room, "Stop defending him, Shahneel. My trust was placed in him when he triumphed in the U-19 World Cup, but it seems negligence has taken root in his spirit since. What am I to do with him?"

The sting of those words propelled Shubman away, his retreat to his room as swift as it was silent. The click of the lock was the punctuation to his overwhelming sense of isolation.

Keart's voice rose in defense of the young cricketer, "Why do you have to taunt him like that? He's merely a youth of 20, at the dawn of his career. As his parents, our role is to uplift, not to castigate."

Shahneel, her voice a blend of plea and defiance, added, "Did you see his face? He stands at the threshold of this field, his skin not yet thickened to the barbs of trolls and the sting of humiliation."

Lakwinder's response was terse, a single word that hung heavy in the air, "Whatever."

A knock at the door heralded a shift in the day's narrative. Shahneel, her curiosity piqued, opened the door to find a woman of dignified years, accompanied by a man whose eyes held stories of their own, and two young girls, their faces alight with the novelty of new surroundings.

The woman introduced herself with a warmth that belied the formality of the occasion, "I am Sanaya, your next-door neighbor. We thought it fitting to introduce ourselves."

Keart, ever the gracious host, greeted them with a traditional 'Namaste,' and extended an invitation that bridged the gap between neighbors and friends, "Why not join us for lunch? Afterwards, I can show you around, and we can attend to the groceries together."

Sanaya's acceptance was as gracious as the invitation, "That would be delightful, Keartji. We shall see you at lunch then."

As the door closed behind the departing neighbors, Keart turned to Shahneel, her voice carrying the weight of the morning's events, "Shahneel, come, assist me in the kitchen. Your help is invaluable."

Together, they delved into the culinary preparations, a dance of spices and flavors that promised a reprieve from the morning's tensions.

Meanwhile, Sanaya and her family settled into their new abode. Anvi, the elder of the two daughters, laid claim to the room with the balcony, a space that promised solitude and a view. Yet, as she arranged her belongings, the sounds of a neighboring conversation drifted over, a young man's voice laden with defeat, "I am so done, Abhi. I just want to quit it. The taunts at home are too much to bear."

Curiosity piqued, Anvi leaned over the balcony, but the figure had vanished, leaving behind only the echo of his words. With a sigh, she turned back to her room, now a reflection of her personality.

The call to lunch came, and Anvi followed her mother to the Gills' residence, the promise of new friendships and shared meals a balm to the morning's discord.

Upon their arrival at the Gills' residence, Karthik and his family were warmly welcomed by Keart and Lakwinder, who ushered them into the cozy living room. As they settled comfortably on the plush sofa, Karthik introduced himself and his family with a respectful "Namaste, I am Karthik. Beside me is my wife Sanaya, and these are our daughters, Anvi, the elder, and Maanya, the younger."

Anvi and Maanya greeted everyone with cheerful smiles, radiating warmth and friendliness. In response, Lakwinder reciprocated the greeting, "Namaste, Karthikji. I am Lakwinder, and this is my wife Keart, along with our eldest daughter, Shahneel."

Curiosity piqued, Sanaya inquired, "Do you have another daughter?" Keart gently shook her head, a soft smile on her lips, "No, we have a son. Shahneel, would you please call him?"

With a nod of acknowledgment, Shahneel made her way to Shubman's room. She found him in a contemplative state, seated on his bed. "Maa is calling you," she relayed the message.

Acknowledging the call, Shubman freshened up hastily, showering and donning presentable attire, as the sound of conversation drifted up from downstairs. He grabbed his phone and descended the stairs, only to be surprised by the sight of four unfamiliar faces engaged in lively conversation with his family.

He joined them, taking a seat next to Keart, who introduced him, "This is my son, Shubman." Karthik's eyes lit up with recognition, "I've seen him somewhere before."

Shubman's voice was subdued as he revealed, "I am a cricketer, uncle." A spark of realization hit Karthik, "Ah, yes! I remember now, I saw you playing in the U-19 World Cup and the Test series."

Shubman's eyes fluttered shut, a wave of emotions threatening to surface, but the reassuring touch from Keart on his hands brought him solace. Anvi observed the exchange with keen interest. Shahneel turned to her, "Anvi, what's your field of study?"

"I'm delving into the depths of psychology," Anvi replied with enthusiasm. Shahneel offered a thoughtful nod, her gaze shifting to Shubman, who seemed lost in his own world, his eyes fixed on the ground. Soon, it was time for lunch.

As everyone gathered around the dining table, Keart began serving the meal with motherly affection. She was about to place paneer on Shubman's plate when he gently protested, "Maa, I need to avoid paneer."

Understanding his dietary restrictions, Keart nodded and instead offered him some tangy pickle to accompany his roti, while the others enjoyed the rich paneer butter masala.

Leaning in, Anvi whispered to Shahneel, "Is he always this reserved?" Shahneel's response was immediate, "Not at all, he's usually the life of the house, always chattering away."

Their conversation was interrupted by Lakwinder's inquiry, "Anvi, if you don't mind sharing, how did you fare in your 10th-grade exams?"

Pride laced Anvi's voice as she shared, "I secured 98.34%, uncle." Lakwinder's gaze shifted to Shubman, prompting him to abruptly rise from the table, plate in hand, and retreat to the solitude of his room. Keart's concern was palpable as she whispered in Punjabi, "Kī tusīṁ cāhudē hō ki uha bhukhē marē?" (Do you want him to starve?)

The silence that followed was heavy with unspoken words. Sanaya's concern broke through, "Keartji, what's troubling him? Is he upset?" Keart's voice was laced with worry, "Yes, Sanayaji, he's been deeply affected. The loss in the Test series has been hard on him, and the relentless trolling is too much for someone so young to bear."

Karthik's empathy was evident, "Such a burden on a young soul." Anvi, moved by the situation, offered, "Aunty, may I go and see if he's alright?" Keart's approval was immediate, "Of course, Anvi."

Anvi approached Shubman's door with gentle knocks, only to be met with a voice tinged with despair, "Di, please, I just need to be alone. Papa always does this, comparing me to everyone."

Persistently, Anvi called out, "Shubman, it's Anvi. Can you open the door?" The door eventually swung open, revealing Shubman's troubled expression. "Why are you here?" he asked, a mix of curiosity and resignation in his voice.

"I came to talk," Anvi said softly, stepping into his world. Shubman reluctantly allowed her in, and she continued, "I see the anger you hold towards your father, and it's understandable. He only wishes for you to excel, but-"

Shubman cut her off, "Anvi, no offense, but I can't have you defend him. If that's why you're here, I'd rather be alone."

Anvi's smile was gentle, understanding, "I get it. Here's my number. When you're ready to talk, I'm here."

With a nod of acknowledgment, Shubman watched as Anvi departed, leaving him to ponder her words and the unexpected kindness she offered. sank on the floor thinking about Anvi's words.