That Day, the Sun Was Too Harsh
Cast:
Tillu – Curious, quick‑tempered, emotional boy
Akhi – Innocent, playful younger brother
Arun – Friendly, calm group leader
Dolu – Master of mischief, Mastermind
Chandu and Ravi – Playful cousins
Golu – Stout neighbour, easy target for jokes
It was around 4 PM. The sun was still shining harshly, and the sand on the field felt like it was burning. The monsoon hadn’t arrived yet, so the fields lay empty and dry. In this dusty village corner, a group of boys gathered to play their favourite game—one filled with bats, balls, sweat, tricks, and loud laughter.
Tillu, a boy around 13 or 14, had come to his friend Arun’s house along with his younger brother Akhi, who was about 11. Tillu was new in the area, just visiting for a few days. But today, he was excited. He and Akhi were about to learn the famous game the local kids played with wild energy.
The players included Tillu and Akhi, Arun and his younger brother Dolu, their cousin Chandu and Ravi, and a neighbour named Golu. They all stood in a circle, each claiming a spot as their "house." The rules were simple, yet chaotic.
One player was chosen by drawing straws. The chosen one had to throw the ball at the legs of others—if it touched someone, that person became the next thrower. But if it didn’t, the players had to strike the ball away using their bats and chase the thrower while teasing and mocking him. They could even leave their house to confuse the thrower, but if they did, anyone could claim their spot—including the chaser.
The game began with Chandu as the first chosen player. His face turned red as he chased after the ball under the hot sun. The boys laughed and teased him in their local slang, half of which Tillu and Akhi couldn’t even understand, but they still laughed anyway.
Chandu, frustrated, suddenly ran and grabbed Dolu’s house. Now it was Dolu’s turn.
Dolu was a legend when it came to cheating in village games. With sly tactics and a mischievous smile, he tricked Golu. He threw the ball at Golu’s leg, and though no one really saw if it touched or not, the crowd shouted, “It touched! It touched!”
Golu tried to argue, “It didn’t touch me!” but the voices overpowered his denial.
Now it was Golu’s turn. He was frustrated but determined. He ran after the ball, panting, his lungs screaming for air. Everyone teased him, chasing him around, calling him names. Tillu laughed along, amused, while Akhi was completely into the game, eyes shining with excitement.
Golu threw the ball again but failed. Arun struck it hard with his bat, sending it far. The teasing grew louder. Golu, trying to reclaim his pride, ran toward Ravi’s house. Ravi noticed and rushed to protect it.
Golu touched Ravi’s house just a moment before Ravi placed his bat on the ground. A tight race. But again, voices won over the truth.
“You were late! He touched first!” the boys shouted.
Ravi protested but gave in.
Golu wasn’t happy. “You all are cheating!” he complained. But when everyone called him a loser and laughed, he stayed quiet and continued playing.
The one laughing the most was Tillu.
This didn’t go unnoticed.
Dolu gave Golu a silent signal with his eyes. “Make him the next,” it meant. Golu understood. Even Akhi, Tillu’s own brother, gave in to the trick.
Now the game had shifted. It was no longer just about hitting and running. It was now a game of voice, tricks, and silent pacts.
Soon, it was Tillu’s turn to chase the ball and target houses.
But he was new. He missed the legs most of the time. Even when he hit, the others pretended not to notice.
“It didn’t touch me.”
“I didn’t see it.”
They mocked him.
Even Akhi joined in, laughing loudly with the others.
Tillu, breathing heavily, lips dry and begging for water, continued running, his clothes soaked in sweat. His face burned in embarrassment. Still, he kept playing.
He finally saw a chance and ran to grab Chandu’s house. They raced. This time, Tillu was clearly ahead and touched the house seconds before Chandu arrived.
“Now it’s your turn!” Tillu shouted, happy and relieved.
But the boys turned their heads away.
They ignored him.
They pretended nothing had happened.
Tillu’s smile disappeared. (His eyes began to fill with tears.)
“You all are cheatercocks! You’re playing dirty!” he yelled.
“I don’t want to play this game anymore!”
“Loser! You have to play!” the voices shouted.
“Play, loser!”
Tillu stood still, angry and hurt.
“I’m going home now,” he said softly, trying to hold back his tears.
Everything went silent.
Then a small voice broke the silence— “I don’t want to go home,” said Akhi.
Tillu looked at him.
“You have to… and if you don’t, I’ll go alone,” he replied, voice shaking.
Arun ran to stop him. “Don’t go, Tillu. We were just playing.”
But Tillu didn’t stop.
He went back to Arun’s house and grabbed his cycle. Arun’s mother saw him and asked, “Where are you going, son?”
“I’m going home,” he replied, quietly, without meeting her eyes.
His face was soaked in sweat; his eyes filled with water.
He paddled away.
About a kilometre down the road, near an old factory, he stopped his cycle and looked to the side.
The open field lay ahead.
His heart pulled him back.
He wanted to return.
(He wanted to run to his friends, join the game again, feel the joy.)
But he didn’t.
His self-respect stood in the way.
He sat beside the road and cried. Cried hard.
After a while, he wiped his face, returned home, went straight to his bed, grabbed his pillow, and cried again—this time louder.
His mother came into the room.
“What happened? Where’s Akhi?” she asked.
Tillu didn’t look at her.
“Nothing…” he whispered and continued crying.
