In Mumbai, afternoons do not invite children outdoors. They press down like a palm on the back of the neck. The tar on the lanes glistens. The bougainvillea droops in exhausted pink. Even the crows fall silent, their arguments postponed until evening. It is in such a suspended hour that a boy stands in the small balcony of a modest apartment in Bandra, a steel plate in one hand and a slice of guava in the other, waiting for a green blur to trust him. The building is ordinary. Cement walls the colour of faded bone. Railings warm to the touch. From somewhere below rises the thud of a rubber ball striking a compound wall in relentless rhythm. But here, on this narrow ledge between the domestic and the vast Arabian Sea beyond, the boy is learning a lesson no coach has yet spoken aloud…
To read the full story and 19 other short stories in this series click on the links below:
This story is part of the book Unknown Companions, my second printed collection of short stories, bringing together twenty quiet encounters between well-known Indians and the animals who moved through their lives.
These stories do not revisit achievement. They turn toward the smaller presences history rarely records: a dog waiting at a doorway, a bird crossing a garden, a stray who appears at an unexpected hour. In such moments, reputation falls silent and a different kind of companionship becomes visible.
Rooted in real lives and shaped by the quiet crossings between humans and animals, this collection gathers the unnoticed companions who stood briefly beside lives that history remembers for other reasons.
If you have found something here that stayed with you, some of my other books (collection of short stories, novels, and more) are now available in print and digital editions. They gather many unique journeys, quieter questions, and stories that continue beyond this page.
Weekend Stories by Trishikh 
This sounds like a lovely story already
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Oh it certainly is. It is about one of the greatest batsman/ cricketer the world has ever seen. He is retired now.
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REALLY? That sounds awesome
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This is beautifully written—so evocative and quietly powerful 🌿
The opening scene alone draws you in with its vivid imagery, and the way you turn an ordinary afternoon into a moment of subtle learning is remarkable. I especially appreciate how your collection shifts focus from grand achievements to these gentle, often unnoticed connections—they feel deeply human and lasting.
A truly graceful and thoughtful piece—lingers long after reading. ✨
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Dear Verma’ji, thank you so much for reading the opening with such care and generosity. It means a great deal to me that the stillness of that afternoon and the quiet exchange between a boy and a bird found a place within you.
I have always felt that behind every celebrated life, In this case Sachin Tendulkar, there exist these softer, almost unrecorded moments where character is shaped without witness. If that gentle shift from the grand to the intimate felt meaningful, then the story has found its purpose.
Your words, much like the piece itself, carry a lingering grace. I am truly grateful.
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Thank you for your heartfelt note—it was a joy to read. What you’ve expressed about those quiet, unrecorded moments shaping a life truly resonates with me. Often, it is in those unseen pauses that the essence of a person is formed, far away from applause or recognition.
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🙏👍
Aum Shanti
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Thank You so much.
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Beautifully atmospheric. You’ve captured that specific, shimmering stillness of a city held hostage by the heat. That line about the glistening tar is pure cinema.”
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Thank you so much. So happy that you like the way I write. Your comments never fail to encourage me.
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