I was running, running for my life, and as I ran I could smell the freshly cut grass, I loved the smell, it made everything feel and look fresh, and the sun was scorching down on my back and I was sweating so hard that i was thinking of a callipo ice block at the same time. My legs were running so fast, as if I had no control over them and they were running on their own I could not stop, I wasn’t running from anything, I was running to something, I was running to the other side of the stumps in a game of cricket, it was so important for our team to win, I skid and made it, as my cousin came thrashing the ball on to the stumps and everyone on the opposite team screamed
“Howzat?”
Another cousin of mine was playing umpire, and as she raised her finger to declare that I was out, the batting team started screaming,
“you’re cheating!”
Shes not out” they ranted on even I myself was caught up in the argument, thinking back now, we were all such sore losers when it came to a game of backyard cricket, losing was not in the game of a Pakistani childs dictionary when cricket was at stake. After about a good ten minutes of arguing, we had realised the game is over and there is not point arguing until we were blue in the face, we all ran to the kitchen to gulp down some water, the water tasted so good after a good game of cricket and all of lay under the fan.
My mum made us all mango milkshake, it was the perfect summer, cricket and mangoes. When I say all I mean my brother and a bunch of my cousins, I have fourty five first cousins, and it was only eight of us, if all my cousins were there we would never have all fit in the backyard. No weekend was boring for me, every weekend there was a cousins house to play at, any friends you made outside your cousins made your parents very cautious and didn’t what you to become like the ‘ghorays’ which literally meant ‘the white kids’, but mainly it was fear of the unknown.
