ICC World T20 Travel Diaries: Kashmiri girls to the rescue

You always revere the start of a tour. The mood is at the top of the tree. You can clearly view what's lying ahead. It's challenging as well as exciting. But the beginning is always important, for how you begin sets the tone of everything that follows.

I had to hop on and hop off for the next 23 days without a stop - moving from the east to the south, then north and then back to the east. The ICC World Twenty20, I knew, was going to be one roller-coaster for me.

It was March 13, I was in the queue to check my baggage in for Nagpur. India were due to start their tournament there against New Zealand, and I wanted to reach a couple of days in advance, since it's always good to start early. Things fall in place easily that way.

That's why I reached the airport early as well, more than 2 hours before the departure time.

Parallel to the check-in line I was part of, there was another queue, all schoolgirls. Their fair skin and language gave me a cue that this was some excursion trip of a school from the Kashimir valley.

I was right, as one of those girls nodded to my query. A smile exchanged and the special line they were in proceeded, while I waited for my turn.

Being there early, I got my boarding pass without any fuss. But perhaps I was paying too much attention to ensure things were in order. That's precisely why I lost my ID, the Aadhar Card, which is an Indian version of the US Social Security card.

As I approached security check, like a habit, I ran a check if I had secured my ID after showing it at check-in. That's when I discovered it wasn't there.

I ran up and down the route I walked from the check-in counter to security check. But there was no sign it. It got a bit panicky for me at that stage, as I needed to show it at the ICC media office in Nagpur to collect my accreditation card.

I started searching frantically, checking every pocket of my backpack. That's when I heard a voice. "Hello...card, card?"

It was one of those Kashmiri school girls. "Card, card?" she said again, waving her hand at me.

I nodded and almost ran in that direction with relief written all over my pace. She pointed towards the check-in desk: "There," she said, after telling that I dropped it on the floor and she gave to one of the ground staff there.

"Is this yours?" the official at the check-in counter looked at my photo on the card and then at me. "Yes, it's you," she said while handing it over to me.

I walked back towards that Kashmiri girl, who was explaining her teacher what happened. "Thank you, so much. You saved me from a big trouble," I told her.

She just smiled before getting back among her friends, and I walked towards the security check heaving a sigh of relief.