Bats raised in farewell to murdered cricketer

RAD­HI­CA DE SIL­VA

Se­nior Mul­ti­me­dia Re­porter

rad­hi­[email protected]

Bats were raised high, pink bal­loons drift­ed sky­ward, and tears flowed freely as fam­i­ly, friends and team­mates bid a fi­nal farewell to slain crick­eter Rashme Deoa­jit, whose life was cut short in a bru­tal at­tack last week.

Dressed in her crick­et uni­form, Deoa­jit’s body was car­ried through the com­mu­ni­ty she loved—Boodram Trace, Granville—be­fore the fu­ner­al pro­ces­sion moved on to the Mos­qui­to Creek Shore of Peace for cre­ma­tion. Along the route, mourn­ers paused for Hin­du rites, with prayers led by Pun­dit Prab­hudeo.

Her fam­i­ly wept as they walked along­side the cas­ket, strug­gling to come to terms with the vi­o­lent loss of the 28-year-old, af­fec­tion­ate­ly known as “Ponkin.”

Mem­bers of the Play­ers Sports Club and the With­out Lim­its Crick­et Team paid trib­ute by lift­ing their bats in uni­son. They lat­er re­leased pink bal­loons, sym­bol­is­ing her warmth, kind­ness and vi­brant spir­it, as her pyre was lit.

Fam­i­ly friend and for­mer min­is­ter Dr Glenn Ra­mad­hars­ingh de­scribed the killing as trag­ic and deeply un­set­tling.

“It is very, very sad. And with the turnout, you could see the love­ly hu­man be­ing that she was—ath­let­ic, so­cia­ble, and from a very hum­ble com­mu­ni­ty,” he said.

Ra­mad­hars­ingh, who once worked in the area as a vet­eri­nar­i­an, said the tragedy should serve as a warn­ing.

“We have to look at the peo­ple around us—the peo­ple we hire, the peo­ple we in­vite in­to our homes. Any­one can be a dan­ger. Look for the signs—rage, jeal­ousy, ex­treme sad­ness—and pro­tect your fam­i­ly,” he urged.

At the fu­ner­al, Deoa­jit’s life was re­mem­bered not for how it end­ed, but for the joy and en­er­gy she brought to those around her. In a heart­felt eu­lo­gy de­liv­ered by Ca­ri­na Ramkissoon, she was de­scribed as the “life of the game,” a gift­ed crick­eter whose love for the sport forged life­long friend­ships.

Ramkissoon said Deoa­jit at­tend­ed Granville RC and Ce­dros Sec­ondary School, where she ex­celled in crick­et. She lat­er worked at Al­brosco Lim­it­ed, de­ter­mined to live in­de­pen­dent­ly de­spite life’s chal­lenges.

With­in her fam­i­ly, Ramkissoon said she was much more than a daugh­ter and sis­ter.

“She as­sumed mul­ti­ple roles—moth­er, fa­ther and care­tak­er—al­ways en­sur­ing the well-be­ing of every­one around her,” she re­called.

Her play­ful per­son­al­i­ty was re­flect­ed in the lit­tle things—mak­ing cof­fee for her fa­ther each morn­ing, teas­ing­ly call­ing him “Mad­men,” cook­ing bush and fish tea for the sick, and turn­ing or­di­nary mo­ments in­to laugh­ter-filled mem­o­ries.

Her broth­ers re­mem­bered beach crick­et games, im­promp­tu cook-ups, and her boom­ing voice singing loud­er than any speak­er.

Deoa­jit’s suc­cess with Ce­dros Sec­ondary’s girls’ crick­et team, in­clud­ing mul­ti­ple Pow­er­Gen Sec­ondary Schools ti­tles, earned her nu­mer­ous ac­co­lades. Her coach, Geral­dine George, said that de­spite the tragedy, peo­ple should nev­er stop help­ing oth­ers.

Po­lice said Deoa­jit had been lim­ing with a man whom her fam­i­ly had pre­vi­ous­ly helped at their Granville home last Mon­day night.

She had been car­ry­ing $5,000 in­tend­ed for car re­pairs. Around 8 pm, Deoa­jit and the man re­port­ed­ly be­came in­volved in an al­ter­ca­tion, and that was the last time she was seen alive. The sus­pect has not been seen since.

An au­top­sy re­vealed that Deoa­jit was blud­geoned to death.