'What a shot, Sunny!' Sunny exclaimed to himself after hitting Saru's ball towards the oil drums, which usually meant 6 runs according to their Terrace Cricket rules.
'You didn't do anything. It's the bat,' Saru retorted.
'Special people carry a special bat. It's made in this very factory,' Sunny bragged about his bat and his father's factory for the 534th time.
'I can't find the ball!' Kiki shouted.
'Wait, let me see. I know every nook and corner of this factory,' Sunny replied.
'Ah! Here comes the 535th for the day,' Saru frowned.
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As Sunny descended the stairs, he spotted his father near the Entry Gate of the factory. This was a rare sight as his father usually spent the entire day in his cabin, or as he liked to call it, his den.
Sunny, along with the other two players, soon forgot about the lost ball and got busy investigating what his father was up to.
Mr. Sehgal, Sunny's father and the Founder/CEO of Sunshine Cricket Bats, stood near the gate, lifting his hand and checking his watch every 40th second. It seemed like he was waiting for somebody.
Soon, a large black car with a terrible horn sound but a spectacular sunroof entered the factory.
A tall, well-built man wearing a dusky blue blazer stepped out of the car and shook hands with Mr. Sehgal. They both entered the premises and were no longer visible.
'Who is this guy?' wondered Sunny.
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'How was the factory?' Tavish's business partner asked over the phone.
'Seemed fine.' he answered while rubbing some invisible dust off his blue blazer.
'Just fine?'
'Well, it's not bad, but not great either. It lacks modern amenities. We'll have to spend a lot on interiors if we buy the space.'
'What's the price they are expecting?'
'Oh, you will love that part! It's a steal! I'm sending you their quotation.'
'?Oh wow, man! Are you kidding me?' Tavish's business partner sounded ecstatic.
'These folks are in serious need of money. The Shegal family has apparently gone insolvent, and they are selling all their assets to pay off the bank,' Tavish conveyed.
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Sunny reached home with all his questions swirling in his head during the 20-minute cycling journey.
'You know what, Mom!' he narrated the entire tale of the day to Mrs. Sehgal, including a replay of his amazing shot towards the oil drums, of course.
As always, his mother didn't respond much.
For as long as Sunny could remember, his mother never spoke. She lay in the same position, on the same bed, every single day. Transparent cables were always attached to her wrist, perhaps connecting her with some transparent bottles hanging above her bed.
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Sunny heard a familiar sound. It was his father, removing his shoes before entering the room. Mr. Sehgal always visited his wife's room first after returning from work.
'Paa! Who was the guy who visited us today?' Sunny finally had a chance to satisfy his curiosity.
'Let's talk over dinner, son. I have brought you some ice cream too.'
'Mango flavored?' Sunny's eyes beamed with hope.
'Yes, my sunshine,' Mr. Harish Sehgal smiled.
Harish knew that ice cream would buy him a few more minutes before he would have to deliver the worst news to Sunny. 'Help me out, Aasha!' he struggled to mumble, caressing her feet.
'Don't worry, my love. Everything will be alright,' Mrs. Aasha Sehgal, who had been in a coma for several years, tried to communicate through her helpless eyes.
Mr. Sehgal re-spread the blanket over her, kissed her forehead, and left her room. Entering Sunny's room, he noticed that Sunny had already fallen asleep, with half of the ice cream melted on the other side of the bed.
While the weight of Sunny's questions was lifted for the night, Mr. Sehgal found it hard to sleep. He barely slept for a few minutes and had the same dream he had been having every night since his insolvency became official. In the dream, he saw a recollection of an old memory: him and Sunny standing behind Aasha as she cut the auspicious ribbon at the entrance gate of their new factory. Everything else remained constant, except for the color of Aasha's saree, which changed every day. Yet, she looked beautiful in all of them.
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'Why are we selling our factory?' Sunny screamed at Mr. Sehgal while the latter was preparing his morning tea. Kiki and Saru, who just informed Sunny about his factory being on sale, climbed back over the house gate and ran towards the fields.
In that moment, Mr. Sehgal knew that the world was never going to be the same again for his family.
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Weeks passed, and the finance representatives from Tavish & Partner, after going through bundles and bundles of papers, finally presented a single document.
Tavish entered Mr. Sehgal's cabin.
'The deal is ready, Sir. Time to sign?'
With a strange and unprecedented sensation in his chest, Mr. Sehgal lifted his eyeglasses and pen.
Just as he was about to finish reading the document, a sudden sound broke the silence. Something had broken. Tavish's wife and business partner, Bhoomi, stormed into the cabin with a broken vase and Sunny's cricket ball that had been lost since he hit it near the oil drums.
Before Mr. Sehgal could figure out what was happening, Sunny's voice filled the room. 'Sorry, Papa! I broke the vase,' Sunny entered with his bat in hand. 'Ms. Bhoomi told me that you are no longer selling the factory. I love you, Paa!' he pounced and hugged his father like never before.
'Congratulations, Mr. Sehgal!' uttered Tavish while extending his hand. Mr. Sehgal shook hands with both Tavish and Bhoomi, with tears of joy gleaming in his eyes. The paper stated that instead of acquiring the factory, Tavish and Bhoomi would invest the amount in Mr. Sehgal's business, pay off his debts, and scale it up to bring back its glory. They wanted slightly less than an equal stake in return.
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A year later, Sunny continued to play cricket at his factory with some new additions to the playing squad: Tavish, Bhoomi, and a much-healthier, miraculously-recovered Mrs. Aasha Sehgal.