December 7, 2008 (Sunday, 8:00 AM)

  The morning sun peeked through Aritra's window, casting streaks of golden light across his room. No arm clock bring. No textbooks sprawled across his desk. Just the sweet, undisturbed peace of vacation.

  Stretching zily, he grinned. Finally, freedom.

  But today wasn't just any zy vacation day. It was the day of the much-anticipated cricket match with Rimi. A friendly challenge made weeks ago, half-serious, half-flirtatious, but now it felt like an event worthy of an audience.

  After a quick breakfast of luchi and aloo dum prepared by Ma, Aritra grabbed his old cricket bat, dusted off from its corner like a relic from his pre-exam life. Dressed in a simple bck T-shirt and track pants, he looked less like a schor and more like a boy ready to recim his childhood.

  At the local club ground, Deep and Arnab were already waiting, their cricket gear sprawled around like they were professional pyers gearing up for a championship.

  "Look who finally decided to grace us with his presence," Deep teased as Aritra arrived, bancing his bat over his shoulder with dramatic fir.

  "Had to make an entrance," Aritra replied with a grin.

  Moments ter, Rimi arrived, tying her hair into a ponytail, her cricket bat resting casually against her shoulder. She wore a light blue jersey that made her look more competitive than Aritra had anticipated.

  "Ready to lose?" she smirked.

  "I was about to ask you the same," Aritra shot back, his confidence hiding a slight nervousness.

  Teams were formed: Aritra, Deep, and Arnab against Rimi and her friends. A friendly match, but the competitive spirit was undeniable.

  Aritra opened the batting. The first few balls were easy singles, but as soon as Rimi took over bowling, the real game began.

  "Let's see if you can handle this," Rimi said, spinning the ball in her hands.

  The first delivery was a near-perfect off-spin, barely missing the stumps. Aritra's heart raced, but he kept his cool.

  "Not bad," he admitted, preparing for the next.

  The next ball? A six. Straight over Rimi's head.

  "Lucky shot," she called out, trying to mask her surprise.

  "Skill, actually," Aritra replied with a wink.

  But Rimi wasn't one to back down. Her next delivery was a sharp yorker, and Aritra misjudged it, sending the stumps flying.

  "Gotcha!" she cheered, running past him with a victorious grin.

  Aritra walked off the pitch, ughing.

  "I let you have that one," he joked, earning pyful jeers from Deep and Arnab.

  After the game, they all sat under the shade of a rge banyan tree, sharing snacks and ughter.

  "Admit it, I'm the better pyer," Rimi teased.

  "I'll admit you got lucky," Aritra replied, tossing a biscuit at her.

  As the sun began to set, casting a golden glow over the ground, Aritra realized something. It wasn't just about winning or losing. It was about these moments—the ughter, the teasing, the memories.

  Exams may come and go, but friendships and cricket matches? They're the real highlights.