Banani High basketball court. Normally, it's the nd of dribble-dribble-squeak, the constant soundtrack of after-school practice. But not today. Today, the vibe was different. You could practically taste the anticipation in the air – thick and sweet, like that feeling right before your favorite artist drops their new album. The energy was buzzing.
And smack-dab in the middle of it all was Tahera Khanam, our team manager. This woman? Organization queen. Seriously, she could probably alphabetize the entire universe. Usually, she’s ser-focused, eyes narrowed, barking orders about practice times and missing equipment (her voice could rival a foghorn, just saying). But today? Her eyes were wide, almost sparkling, and she was holding a sheet of paper like it was the st slice of pizza at a party. And get this - she actually looked kinda mischievous. What was up?
"Aight, team, group hug! Group hug!" Tahera's voice boomed, cutting through the pre-game chatter like a hot knife through butter. Everyone scattered around the court – some were trying to get their free throws in (clutch!), others were just vibing and gossiping – all of a sudden swarmed around her.
Kiyoshi Sajeb, our captain, Mr. Intensity himself, parked himself right in front, eyes locked on Tahera. Ahsan, the vice-captain, aka the resident realist, was right beside him, already rocking a slight frown. Dude looked like he knew drama was brewing.
"Okay, so, HUGE TEA, everyone!" Tahera announced, totally hamming it up. She paused, like she was in a TikTok reveal or something, letting the silence hang. "We just got... an invitation!"
A collective "oooooh" went through the team. Invitations? For us? Let's be real, Banani High hoops wasn't exactly known for getting fancy invites. We were more of a "try our best and have fun" kinda team, you know? Wins were... optional. Our teamwork and chaotic energy? Chef's kiss. Strategic pys? Ehhh, we were working on it.
“Wait, hold up - an invite to what exactly?” Arshad, our resident shooting guard (and low-key comedian, his shots were sometimes faster than his brain, bless him), chimed in, raising an eyebrow like he was interrogating a suspect.
Tahera dramatically unfurled the paper like it was the Decration of Independence. “To a practice match!” she announced, her voice hitting a high note that could shatter gss.
“A practice match?” Chandan, another shooting guard and certified skeptic, repeated, his voice dripping with doubt. “Like, against who? East Bumble-fudge High School of Nowhere? Some random team we've never even Googled?”
Tahera just grinned, a full-on Cheshire cat grin. “Oh, you’ve heard of them alright. Try… Motijheel High!”
Okay, so the name "Motijheel High" dropped and the court erupted. Seriously, you'd think BTS just walked in. The excited chatter went from 'murmurs' to full-blown screams, whistles, and then this weird mix of excited yelps and nervous giggles. Motijheel High. Just saying the name felt heavy. They were like, the basketball royalty of school hoops. Legends. Not just any team, but Motijheel High. It was kinda like getting invited to py a pickup game with LeBron James, except, you know, in high school.
Robi, our gentle giant center – dude's basically a teddy bear who can rebound like a beast – just blinked, looking genuinely shook. "Motijheel? For real?" he mumbled, like he was questioning reality itself.
