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The boisterous, bewitching world of Butterfingers is back!

Look out! It’s Butterfingers again, and in smashing form!

There’s a lot going on in Green Park School. Ozymandias, a black cat, walks into classrooms and there’s a buzz about a badminton tournament that is to be played on Friday the thirteenth.

Sponsored by Brijesh K. Singh, an eccentric multimillionaire who loves badminton and hates superstitions, this tournament is good news for sports-crazy Amar Kishen, aka Butterfingers, and his friends.

Badminton practice begins, but can it be smooth sailing with talk of scams, superstitions and suspicions? Butterfingers sure has a lot on his hands!

Here’s an excerpt from Smash It, Butterfingers that will take you into the wild, whimsical world of Amar.


Amar was superstitious when it came to sports, for he believed one should leave nothing to chance. Cricks in the neck were normal after he had watched important matches, because his heroes, with great timing, unerringly went for match-turning shots just when he was in an awkward position. There was an occasion when he had just looked over his shoulder to locate the potato chips, when Nadal, his tennis idol, hit his first winner at a French Open final. Amar had watched the rest of the match frozen in the same pose, head held at an uncomfortable 45-degree angle, afraid to move lest it triggered off a series of unforced errors. He couldn’t turn his neck properly for a week, but so what? All in a good cause.

But now here were Sindhu and Saina before him. Was he dreaming? He rubbed his eyes again. Sindhu turned to him and offered him a plate on which medals glinted, dazzling his eyes. Saina held out another plate.

‘Do you want to wear my world champion gold medal?’ Sindhu asked, dangling it and flashing her trademark broad smile.

Amar couldn’t believe he had heard her right. Elbowing Kiran aside, he said, ‘Yes, please,’ in an awed tone, stretching out his right hand to accept the plate on which she had dropped the medal.

‘No, no, take my Olympic bronze medal first,’ Saina said, holding out her plate. Confused, he looked from one plate to the other, accepted both and promptly dropped them.

‘Butter!’ yelled Kiran, dismayed. ‘You’ve done it again!’ Amar’s uncanny ability to drop things had given him the nickname Butterfingers, and he never allowed anyone to forget his formidable reputation with regular demonstrations of his slip-grip methods.

‘Oops, sorry!’ His most used phrase escaped his lips as the plates rolled merrily in two different directions, scattering the medals about. Bzzzzzzzz!!! The medals turned into a thick cluster of bees and mosquitoes that made a beeline for him. He took to his heels in horror with Kiran panting behind him. Sindhu and Saina, meanwhile, had jumped up in rage and, brandishing their racquets that had been resting against the stone like battle axes, gave chase.

‘Help! Help!’ Amar thrashed his arms about to protect himself and dodge the dangerously swinging racquets, only to find the fast-multiplying insects coming closer and forming a dense hood about his face, from which he struggled to escape . . .

‘Ummph! Mmph!’ Amar woke up breathless as he tried to break free from the sheet that he had managed to wrap tightly about his neck and over his head in his sleep. He flailed his hands about like the tentacles of an octopus until a lucky tug finally secured his release. Gasping, he surfaced and began to breathe in large gulps of air. ‘Whew!!’ he muttered. ‘What a nightmare. But I actually saw Sindhu! And Saina! And I thought I glimpsed Lin Dan in the background. Get lost, you!’

He brushed away a mosquito that sang around his head. Parched, he croaked, ‘Water! Help, I’m dying of thirst!’


Join Amar on his hilarious adventures as he defies luck with his madcap schemes. Let the game begin!



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