The Game of Life and Death

 It was his first day playing for his team, and he got in at the last moment because the team’s main player was injured. He had always been passionate about kabaddi, begging his captain for a chance to play. Finally, his opportunity came, and facing a fierce team only made his adrenaline rush like a tsunami. Tense but confident, he was determined to secure a win for his team.

"We should have won last year," he often told his mother. His team had been a strong contender for the inter-school championship, but poor refereeing had left them as runners-up. That day, he fought back tears as he watched from the sidelines, promising himself he would help his team win the next year.

This year was his shot at glory, and he was sure he could win it for the team. But getting to play was a challenge. His team had many strong players, and it took a combination of convincing and luck to get his chance. Fortune favored him when their star player, Dhananjay Panday, twisted his ankle during practice, paving the way for his entry into the team for the all-important final. It was the day he had always dreamed of, the moment he had always fantasized about.

The game began, and both teams clashed with all their might. It was hard to tell who had the upper hand. However, the absence of their star player began to take its toll as the opposition started to gain a significant lead. Desperation and fear spread through his team, leading to mistakes and lost points. He saw the desperation in his captain - Dharma's eyes.

"Don't worry, skipper. I will not let you down," he said confidently as he made his way toward the opposition, where seven players waited like hungry wolves ready to devour a tiny rabbit. But he was unfazed and ready. With the skill and dexterity of a seasoned player, he tore through the opposition, leaving them stunned by the sheer demolition this ‘newcomer’ performed.

The round ended, and smiles returned to his team. Victory seemed within reach. Dharma, usually calm, eyed his rival captain with a hint of mockery. The opposition, on the other hand, seethed with rage. They knew they had to do something drastic to win. And so, they discarded the rules and waited for the newbie to raid again.

He was eager for his next chance. With the confidence of a raging bull, he stormed into the opposition camp once more. But this time, they were ready. A sudden movement to his left distracted him, providing the window the opposition needed. A player on the extreme right made a swift move and kicked his ankle with all his might. He fell like a house of cards, howling in excruciating pain. The opposition pounced on him like a pack of hyenas, biting and tearing at him.

At that moment, something strange happened. His soul left his body. For a moment, he couldn't fathom what was happening. He saw his physical body struggling to return to his side, pinned down by the opposition. But this was no longer the school ground; it was a vast field of brown and gray. He found himself amidst a sea of people dressed in ancient warrior outfits, fighting and killing each other. It looked like a war zone, brutal and blood-curdling. Everywhere he looked, there was chaos and a sea of red. He heard horror cries, whether of victory or death, he couldn't tell. Arrows flew into chests, flaming spears punctured lungs. Elephants trampled anyone in their path, while horses galloped, some carrying victorious men, others carrying slain riders. The gruesomeness of the scene was overwhelming.

A roar of laughter caught his attention. Right in front of him, he saw his own physical form dressed in shining armor and silken clothes, now stained with his blood. His body was riddled with cuts and arrows. Surrounded by enemy warriors, he was too wounded to fight but couldn't let go. With all his might, he tried to get up and grabbed the wheel of his destroyed chariot. He swung it at his enemies, but the move lacked strength. Someone kicked him from behind, and his last bit of energy gave way. He crumpled to the ground, knowing it was over. As his enemies continued to hack away at his almost lifeless body, he could no longer feel pain. He wished his father could see how brave he had been, longed for his mother's lap, and yearned for his wife's warm embrace. As his soul left his body, he let out a final roar of anguish, pain, and rage, shaking his enemies. Though they rejoiced in his downfall, they couldn't help but be in awe of the warrior who had hit them like a storm.

“Like father like son” they all thought alike!

Hovering above the scene, he watched with a mix of horror and fascination. What had he just witnessed? Before he could make sense of it, he felt himself getting sucked into an abyss of darkness. He felt immense pressure on his body and tasted the blood from his cut upper lip. He could smell the soil where his face was being pushed into. Slowly, the pressure was relieved, and he saw it. His outstretched arm touching the white line. They had won. He had won, singlehandedly. But the joy he had always anticipated didn't come. His mind was still on the battlefield he had just left. Questions flooded his mind like the arrows that had pierced the young warrior’s body.

“Where had I been? Who was that young man? Did he die? Why did he look like me? And above all, why did he share my name - Abhimanyu?”