Before waking up in Soumya's body, I was a nobody.
Not self-loathing. Just brutal honesty.
I was a child in my previous life who grew up in a tiny apartment with a black and white TV set that only worked when you smacked it on the side. I was a child who slept to the commentary and the roar of the crowd.
I wanted to be out there. I wanted to wear that green jersey, feel the weight of expectation, and taste the adrenaline.
But life didn't care about what I wanted.
My family could barely avoid school fees, let alone cricket gear. Even when I managed to save enough to join a local club, I faced reality once again.
Pathetic stamina, below average talent.
My body was small and weak. I couldn't run laps after laps like others, hit boundaries after boundaries, or stubbornly dig in and stay at the crease for 20 overs.
That was my first heartbreak.
But cricket has a way of staying with you even when you can't play it.
I didn't have a body built for cricket, and I had long since passed the time when I could hope to build one.
But I had a mind built for it. I remembered every scorecard, every bowling figure, every tiny tactical adjustment in every match I watched. Other kids tried to memorize the steps of Bollywood dances. I memorized the best set of shots a player can play against a field set-up.
It wasn't just an obsession. It was a gift.
So I found another way in. I started calling into radio shows, offering match predictions and analysis that were accurate.
And someone in a big radio station noticed. Eventually, at the age of 21, I became a Radio Jockey and Cricket Analyst who would dissect every squad selection, every match, and every series.
That's the story of my life.
I never got to see Bangladesh lift a World Cup and never got to play a single match in the stadium.
And then, one rainy night in 2025,* it ended.
..................................
When I woke up, the first thing I saw was a blurry image of a woman, and the first thing I heard was that same woman calling me "Soumya".
I was genuinely terrified.
It took me a long time to admit this was real.
In the first few days, I kept waiting to wake up in my old flat. Maybe it's a lucid dream, or I am in a coma.
It's just that people cannot read or smell in a dream.
Now you might be wondering how I know this.
Look, I was an RJ, and I needed some fun facts to keep my audience hooked.
Anyway, time didn't wait for me to get in terms of this reality, and by the time I had fact-checked some things, I was 4.
I have become Soumya Sakar.
So, how I was so sure I was Soumya Sarkar?
Soumya was born in Satkhira, Khulna, Bangladesh.
So am I.
However, the fact that made me believe that I was Soumya was a silly fun fact.
Do you know Nazmul Hossain Shanto, Bangladeshi cricketer?
Well, Soumya had Shanto as a middle name. He later dropped it. I remembered it because I made a joke about it in a show once.*
Now, guess what my name is?
Soumya Shanto Sarkar.
Boom.
I remember standing in front of a mirror one evening, studying my reflection. My face was rounder than it would be in a decade, my hair was neatly parted to one side, and my shoulders were narrow. But somewhere under all that softness, I could see the faint outlines of the man I remembered watching on TV.
And for the first time, I let the truth sink in.
It was funny how easily all fear vanished once you admitted the truth.
This was my life now.
No radio station, no messed-up sleep schedule, no regrets about a body that cannot keep up with a mind wired for cricket.
For all my life, I was the man in the commentary box, the fan behind the microphone.
A person who knew everything but could do nothing.
But this time it's different. I had time, I had youth.
More importantly, I knew exactly where Soumya would fall and how not to repeat it.
Now, you might think that I am the protagonist of a rebirth novel or something like that.
Like, it's my destiny to be a great cricketer as I am armed with future knowledge.
Bullshit.
People talk about destiny as if it's something carved in stone. But I had watched too many players rise and fall to believe that. Form, discipline, timing, luck—they all mattered more than any label someone pinned on you.
So I made a promise to the boy in the mirror.
No excuses and no shortcuts.
In my previous life, I used to listen to commentaries of matches pretending it was my story.
But this time, it's really my story.
And I intend to write it right.
................
* no. 1 - When I was writing this chapter it was actually raining.
* no. 2 - There is a running joke regarding the word "Shanto", Shanto is an adjective in Bengali/Bangla Language which means someone who is calm and composed. On the other hand Soumya is one of the most aggressive opener of Bangladesh(He dropped the name Shanto, you see the joke right?). Now this joke is also used on "Najmul Hossain Shanto" since he is in fact not Shanto and gets out by trying to play attacking shots. The most Shantoest batsman of BD would be Musfiq or Mominul.
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