Second Innings

They huddled around me, like close-in fielders on a Mumbai dustbowl

A couple stood a few feet away, hands clasping their knees

The other two much closer, crouched low right under my nose

To catch anything that came their way

To catch every last breath of mine

From silly mid-on to silly mid-off, from silly point to short-leg

They seemed familiar, friends and acquaintances

Teammates even

But in that moment, they seemed distant

There with me, but not there for me

All waiting to see if I could survive

Survive till stumps

Survive to fight another day

Through a final over being played out 

To an audience of one

At the crease taking strike inside my head

This was my second overdose

Cricket a metaphor for life

Cricket a metaphor in death

A second overdose

Second innings is what I’d wished for 

I’d somehow walked away unscathed with a red-inker

Remained not out

Making me a cult hero by circumstance

The one who faced death and kept his wicket intact

A batter who’d been gifted a life

I began playing my shots with gay abandon

It became a kamikaze mission

That’s what had brought me back here

On the precipice, batting for survival again

Somehow it felt bleaker this time

The surface trickier to overcome

As I slipped in and out of consciousness, it came to me

I no longer controlled the outcome

This was a battle beyond my faculties

A tug-of-war between the subjective and objective

Reality slipping as rapidly as the fielders closing in

While 21 years of life flashed past my eyes

The few triumphs, the many setbacks

The mistakes, the mistakes, the mistakes

And  lessons from the only guardian I’d ever had

My cricket

I knew the only way out was playing one ball at a time

On taking one breath at a time

Nothing extravagant, nothing audacious

Defend, defend, defend

Breathe, breathe, breathe

Everyone has different experiences of overdoses 

Some remember bits and pieces

Others remember nothing

Mine are etched, a TV show binge-watched on repeat

I can’t tell you how long I fought to hang in there

I was still there in the end

Unbeaten but not unscathed

This felt different

Like I was given a chance to pad up again

Cricket a metaphor in death

Cricket a metaphor for life

Second innings

That’s what I have been on ever since

Cricket saved my life

Now I’m  paying back in style

Putting a price on your wicket

Building from scratch, backs to the wall, following on

Earning the right to express yourself

Treating every run as a bonus

Gratitude when they huddle around me

Arms wide open, launching or accepting bear hugs

To catch every ball of positivity, warmth and love 

Embracing myself, figuring out what lay within

The field of colour and the madness

To share the kindness with every breath I take

Everyone who comes my way seems familiar

Old teammates I’ve known all along

They are here with me, they are here for me

Every day a fresh over

Mark your guard, and away you go again

Smile, laugh, pass it on

Maybe I was always made for Australian pitches

Here’s where I’ve truly found myself

Here’s where I truly feel in control at the crease

Cricket a metaphor for life

We don’t talk death anymore