The Zoya Factor by Anuja Chauhan Page A

tonight, so I needed to keep liking her. (Besides, deep down, in the most unemancipated Mills and Boon reading part of my soul, I kind of knew what she meant.) We got out her manicure kit and a flask of strong coffee and settled down to watch.
    Khoda sauntered in on the telly (after an ad break saying the toss was sponsored by Niceday Cramjams) and asked for heads. The Aussie captain said he'd settle for tails, and some dude in a FLY EMIRATES coat tossed the coin. It landed heads up. Khoda said he wanted to bat first and then Aamir Khan traipsed out dressed as a Malayali massage lady and exhorted us to lagao thande ka tadka.
    And then Hairy and Shivee walked on, stretching and hopping, and the match began.
    It moved pretty slowly in the beginning, so we put the TV on mute and chatted and stuff. Ritu pulled out a deep purple nail varnish for me and said it would go well with my 'kohl girl' look. She also laid out lots of sexy black halters, saying I could wear them with my jeans and black cork-soled clogs. I went into the loo to try them on and was fluffing out my hair and pouting vampishly into the mirror in what I fondly believed was a Ritu-Raina-ish way when she screamed loudly.
    I came out to see that the Aussies had struck not once but twice and that Laakhi and Khoda were the new men in. They steadied things up a little. The score didn't move much for a while, but that was okay, because the openers had been doing full maar-dhaarh when they got out. We were 79 for 2 in 15 overs when the drinks came on. I looked at the drinks trolley critically. It was a design Neelo and the studio guys had slaved over last month. A giant Zing! two-litre bottle (we were pushing large packs this year) mounted on a tiny Dhaka-style autorickshaw. It toot-tooted on to the pitch happily and then an ad break came on.
    When the match came back on, I started feeling pretty damn sick. Especially when the Aussies jumped up and appealed manically and the red light flashed and Laakhi walked. Ritu went a delicate shade of green when Navneet came out to bat. He seemed cool and was chatting easily with Khoda, nodding repeatedly and tapping the pitch with the end of his bat. Then some Aussie dude with sunscreen slathered all over his face raced down the pitch towards him and...the TV went off. I looked up, thinking it must be the batti again, but then saw Ritu clutching the remote, looking very white around the gills. 'I can't watch,' she said. 'Let's go out.'
    So we went to the hotel parlour for a full body massage, shampoo and blow dry. I sneaked a peek at the TV from under the blower and saw we were 220 for 7 in 40 overs and felt fully deflated. Because even though I knew it was idiotic I had been getting a bit of a cheap thrill out of maybe being a lucky charm. Still, it was good I hadn't said anything to Vishaal and Neelo. I could quietly leave Dhaka and forget this had ever happened....
    By the time we got out of the parlour the Indian innings were over. We'd finished at a decent 267 for 9 - Zahid had come in and hit some big ones and Khoda had carried his bat right through - but the commentators were saying we were still short by some thirty runs and didn't have much of a chance. Still, they did say we couldn't be ruled out altogether, cricket being a game of glorious uncertainties, and all that usual crap.
    Ritu looked a little chirpier now that Navneet's part in the game was mostly over. She walked through the lobby, hair swinging, looking every bit the beauty queen she was. 'See you in the evening, Zo,' she beamed at me suddenly and vanished into her room. I nodded, went to my room and crashed.
    I don't know how much later it was when the phone woke me up. It was Neelo - 'Put on the TV, Zoya,' he yelled. 'We're going to win, Zahid's on a hat trick!'
    I turned on the TV and saw Zahid streaking down the pitch, long locks flying. He looked like a young god - the crowd was screaming - there was a thrilling thwacckk! and I saw the ball making contact