The weight of the slipping grades and his parents' worried calls became unbearable. Aarav knew he couldn't maintain his intense cricket training at the expense of his engineering degree; not only would it derail his future, but it would also instantly expose his secret and likely lead to his parents shutting down his cricketing aspirations altogether. He needed a strategy, a way to navigate this treacherous dual path. After much deliberation, he decided on a bold, yet calculated, move: a confession, not to his parents, but to someone who held power over his academic standing – Professor Sharma, his thermodynamics lecturer.
Professor Sharma was a formidable figure, known for his strict adherence to deadlines and his no-nonsense approach. He was also, however, rumored to have a hidden passion for sports. This tiny flicker of possibility was all Aarav had.
He approached Professor Sharma after a particularly gruelling thermodynamics lecture, his heart thumping in his chest like a fast bowler's run-up. "Professor," Aarav began, his voice steadier than he felt, "I need to speak with you about my recent performance."
Professor Sharma, sorting through a stack of papers, looked up, his expression unreadable. "Yes, Mr. Reddy. Your last mid-term was... uncharacteristic. And your attendance in the optional problem-solving sessions has dropped."
Taking a deep breath, Aarav decided to lay a portion of his cards on the table. "Sir, I understand, and I apologize. There's been a... a significant personal commitment I've taken on recently. It's demanding a lot of my time and energy, but it's something I'm incredibly passionate about. It's... cricket, sir."
Professor Sharma's eyebrows rose slightly, a flicker of surprise in his eyes. He leaned back in his chair, setting down his papers. "Cricket, you say? Not a usual distraction for a final year engineering student on the cusp of placements." His tone was neutral, neither approving nor condemning.
"Sir, it's not a distraction. It's... a serious pursuit. I've realized I have a potential in fast bowling, and I'm training intensely with the college team. I know it's a late start, but I'm determined to see how far I can go," Aarav explained, his passion evident in his voice. He didn't elaborate on the Mike Hussey or Dale Steyn inspiration, keeping it concise and focused on his current commitment. "I understand my grades are slipping, and that's unacceptable. My engineering degree is vital, and I will not compromise it."
He met the professor's gaze, an earnest plea in his eyes. "What I'm asking for, sir, is not leniency, but understanding. If there are any ways I can manage my time better, perhaps submitting certain assignments a day early, or having a clearer schedule for lab work, I will commit to it. I assure you, my academic performance will not suffer further. I am fully committed to both my studies and my training, and I believe I can manage both with proper planning."
Professor Sharma studied him for a long moment, his gaze analytical. He seemed to weigh Aarav's sincerity against the potential disruption. Finally, he spoke, his voice thoughtful. "Mr. Reddy, I appreciate your honesty. Most students would invent a grandparent's illness. Your ambition, while perhaps ill-timed, is... commendable."
He picked up a pen and tapped it against his desk. "Very well. This is what we will do. You will come to my office hours once a week, without fail. We will review your progress in the course, and you will show me your completed assignments for the upcoming week. If you miss a deadline, or your grades drop again, this arrangement ceases. You must understand, Mr. Reddy, your engineering degree is your priority here. Your 'passion' cannot jeopardize it."
It wasn't an easy out; it was a tightrope walk. But it was a solution. "Yes, sir!" Aarav felt a wave of immense relief wash over him. "Thank you, sir. I understand completely. I will not let you down."
Walking away from Professor Sharma's office, Aarav felt a renewed sense of purpose. He had bought himself time, a fragile window of opportunity. The weight of secrecy was still present with his family, but with his professor, he had established an uneasy truce. The challenge now was to prove he could uphold his end of the bargain – to excel both in the lecture hall and on the cricket pitch. The real test of his dual commitment had just begun.