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November 20, 2021. Mumbai.The Pathak Residence.
The parade was over. The confetti had been swept off Marine Drive. The cheering had faded into a pleasant memory. Now, the silence of the off-season settled over the house like a soft blanket.
The BCCI had announced the squad for the upcoming New Zealand tour of India. The World Cup heroes Rohit, Virat, Bumrah, and I were given a much-needed rest. A new, young brigade was being sent to face the Kiwis. It was the right call. The bubble fatigue was real.
But rest, for me, didn't mean inactivity. It just meant a change of battlefield.
I sat on the terrace garden, the Mumbai winter sun warming my face. My phone was in my hand. I wasn't scrolling through Instagram or checking the 100 million follower count. I was making calls.
"Hello? Arshdeep?" I spoke into the phone, my voice low. "Haan, brother. Listen..."
I spent the next hour talking. First to Arshdeep Singh, the left-arm seamer from Punjab with a heart of gold and a yorker to match. Then to Abhishek Sharma, the explosive all-rounder from Sunrisers Hyderabad and my best friend. And a few others young guns, hungry players, friends I had made in the domestic circuit and U-19 team.
"Trust the process," I told them. "Be ready."
I hung up. The cricketing chessboard was being arranged. Now, it was time for the financial one.
November 21, 2021.
I traded my blue jersey for a bespoke Italian suit. I walked into the headquarters of Astra, the company that was my brainchild, my secret weapon, and my goldmine.
The world knew Astra as the "AI miracle." We had launched AstraGPT in late 2020, months before anyone else had even whispered the term "Large Language Model." It had exploded, crossing 1 million users in 48 hours a record that made Silicon Valley weep. We had Reels, the app that filled the vacuum left by the TikTok ban, dominating the Indian social media landscape. We had AstraMeet, the conferencing tool that had become a verb during the pandemic.
But today wasn't about software. Today was about hardware.
I walked into the boardroom. Parag Agrawal, the CEO, stood up. Aravind Srinivas, the CTO, nodded at me. And my father, Rajat Pathak, the Chairman of the Pathak Group, sat at the head of the table.
"Gentlemen," I said, taking a seat. "Is the paperwork ready?"
"It's aggressive, Aarav," Parag said, sliding a thick file across the mahogany table. "Acquiring 92% of Lenskart. They are the market leaders in eyewear retail. The valuation is high."
"The valuation is irrelevant," I said, opening the file. "We aren't buying them for their glasses. We are buying them for their real estate."
I tapped the file.
"We have developed the Astra Smart Glasses. Augmented Reality. HUD displays (in Progress). Real-time translation. It's technology that Meta and Apple are still dreaming about. But people won't buy it online. They need to wear it. They need to feel the future on their nose."
I looked at Dad.
"Lenskart has stores in every mall, every high street in India. We turn them into Astra Experience Centers. Overnight, we have a physical distribution network that rivals Apple. We go global next year."
"And the funding?" Dad asked, playing the devil's advocate, though his eyes gleamed with pride.
"I'm injecting capital," I said casually. "From my personal liquidity."
"How much?"
"10 Billion Dollars."
The room went silent. 10 Billion Dollars. ₹75,000 Crores. It was an amount that could buy small countries. It was the "Birthday Gift" from the System, finally being put to work.
"That... that clears the Lenskart deal and leaves enough for R&D for five years," Aravind murmured, adjusting his own glasses. "We can build the Metaverse before Zuckerberg even names it."
"Exactly," I smiled. "Sign the deal."
The 100 Billion Dollar Handshake
November 25, 2021.
The Lenskart acquisition sent shockwaves through the retail sector, but it was just the appetizer. The main course was served three days later via a secure video conference link.
On the screen were two of the most powerful men in global finance. Satya Nadella, CEO of Microsoft. Masayoshi Son, CEO of SoftBank.
They wanted in. Astra wasn't just a unicorn anymore; it was a decacorn on steroids. Our AI models were two generations ahead of any competitions in market if any. Our social media data was a goldmine.
"Mr. Pathak," Satya Nadella said, his voice calm and measured. "Microsoft sees synergy. We want to integrate AstraGPT into the Azure ecosystem and our windows. We are prepared to lead the round."
"SoftBank is looking at the consumer tech angle," Masayoshi Son added, his enthusiasm visible. "The Smart Glasses... that is the future. We want to fuel the global expansion."
The negotiation was short. We didn't need the money, and they knew it. That gave us all the leverage.
Valuation:$100 Billion (USD).
I signed the digital contract. "Welcome to the future, gentlemen," I said.
The screen went black.
I turned to my father. He was sitting quietly, looking at the spreadsheet on his laptop. He refreshed the page.
"Aarav," Dad said, his voice trembling slightly.
"Yes, Dad?"
"Do you know what you just did?"
"I diluted 10% of the company to get strategic partners," I shrugged.
"No," Dad stood up, walking over to the window that overlooked the Mumbai skyline. "You transferred your shares to me last year. You kept a minority stake, but the bulk... the holding company... it's in my name."
He turned around. He looked shell-shocked.
"The Pathak Group's legacy valuation - construction, real state, PatMart, Pathak Entertainment, renergy, textiles and others was sitting at $37 Billion. It took a hit during Covid from $54 Billion. But Astra... Astra is now worth $100 Billion. And we own 90% of it."
He did the math aloud. "$37 billion from Pathak Group. Astra Stake (86% of $100B): $86 Billion."
"Total Net Worth," Dad whispered. "$120 to $127 Billion."
I pulled up the Forbes Real-Time Billionaires List on my phone.
1. Jeff Bezos: $177 Billion
2. Elon Musk: $151 Billion
3. Bernard Arnault: $150 Billion
4. Bill Gates: $124 Billion
5. Rajat Pathak: $120 Billion
"Congratulations, Dad," I grinned, walking over to hug him. "You are now the richest man in India. The richest man in Asia. And the 5th richest man on the planet."
My father, the man who had built his empire brick by brick, who had weathered storms and recessions, looked at me with tears in his eyes. He wasn't crying for the money. He was crying because his son, the cricketer, the boy who played in the dirt, had just handed him the world.
"Mukesh Ambani?" Dad asked, almost innocently.
"Number 11 or 12," I checked. "You're way ahead, Dad. You're in the Musk league now."
"This is... too much," he laughed, wiping his eyes. "What do I do with $120 Billion?"
"You build," I said. "You build schools. You build hospitals. You build the Gujarat Titans into a dynasty. And maybe... you buy me a nice watch."
We laughed. It was a good day.
FLASHBACK:
November 15, 2021. 3:00 AM. Dubai.(Post-World Cup Final Celebration)
I was lying in my bed in the team hotel, the adrenaline of the victory finally fading into a peaceful hum. The trophy was in Virat's room, but the glory was shared.
I closed my eyes.
"System," I whispered mentally. "I won. I conquered. Is there a reward?"
[System Active][Congratulations, Host. Achievement Unlocked: WORLD CHAMPION.][Performance Grade: SSS (Beyond Legendary)]
The blue screen shimmered.
[System]:You have altered the timeline significantly. India is now a triple-crown champion. The butterfly effect is massive. As a reward for this monumental shift, and to aid your future endeavors as a Captain and a Tycoon, you have two rewards waiting.
[Reward 1: THE VISIONARY (Best OTT Tech)]
Description: A proprietary compression algorithm and streaming architecture that is 5 years ahead of current standards (Netflix/YouTube).
Capabilities: 8K streaming at 4G speeds. Zero latency. Interactive viewing (multiple camera angles user-selectable).
Application: Perfect for launching a sports or entertainment platform. (Hint: IPL Rights are coming up).
[Reward 2: THE TACTICIAN (Captain's Mind of Strategy)]
Description: You have the physical skills. Now you get the brain.
Capabilities:
Pitch Analysis: Instantly read the soil composition, moisture content, and predict how the pitch will behave over 40 overs (Spin, Bounce, Swing).
Batsman Reader: Analyze a batsman's stance and grip in real-time to predict his shot selection with 65% accuracy.
Field General: An intuitive understanding of angles and gaps. You will know exactly where the ball is likely to go before it is bowled.
Application: Perfect for a Captain. Perfect for an All-Rounder who needs to outthink the opponent.
I stared at the screen.
The OTT Tech was a license to print money. With the IPL media rights auction coming up, this technology could disrupt the entire broadcast landscape. Imagine watching the IPL in 8K with zero lag on a mobile phone.
But the Captain's Mind... that was the jewel. To read a batsman? To predict the pitch? That wasn't just skill; that was unfair. It was the ability that Dhoni had honed over decades, gifted to me in an instant.
"I accept," I said.
[Integrating Rewards...][OTT Tech Blueprints: Uploaded to Astra Secure Server.][Captain's Mind: Neural Pathway Integration Complete.]
I felt a cool sensation wash over my brain, like a mental fog clearing. I looked at the replay of the match playing on the TV. Suddenly, I noticed things I hadn't before. I saw Williamson shifting his weight before the bowler released. I saw the dry patch on the good length area that Sodhi had exploited. It was like seeing the matrix code behind the game.
I smiled in the dark.
I was ready for Gujarat. I was ready for the Auction. And I was ready to lead.
[FLASHBACK ENDS]
Back to Present (November 2021)
I walked out of the Astra boardroom, leaving the billionaires to discuss the finer points of global domination.
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I just added this as side-line, now there would be no Business talks in the story, and money is not a problem for Aarav and also, Now Cricket and career development, slice of life and romance in the story.
Only the OTT, that too such that If I could increase the Indian streaming quality and hindi commentary in this fiction.
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December 15, 2021. Mumbai.The Pathak Residence. Time: 4:00 PM.
There is a specific category of friend that exists outside the laws of physics, social status, and net worth. They are the ones who knew you when your nose was running in the 4th grade, when you got out for a duck in a gully match, and when you cried because your crush borrowed a pen from someone else.
For me, that disaster of a human being was Abhishek Sharma.
We had grown up together in the junior circuits. We had shared kits, shared rooms, and shared the specific trauma of being yelled at by aggressive coaches. Now, he was a rising star for Sunrisers Hyderabad and Punjab, currently being tortured, I mean, trained—by Yuvraj Singh in Chandigarh.
The doorbell rang. Not the polite ding-dong of a guest. It was a frantic, continuous assault on the button, like Morse code for "OPEN THE DAMN DOOR OR I BREAK IT."
I sighed, put down the Maggie, and walked to the door. I checked the camera. A face was pressed right up against the lens, distorting the nose into a pig snout.
I opened the door.
Abhishek Sharma stood there, carrying a duffle bag that looked like it had survived a war zone. He was wearing a neon orange t-shirt that should have been illegal and sunglasses indoors.
"Oye, Mr. World Champion!" Abhishek shouted, dropping his bag and opening his arms wide. "Where is the red carpet? Where are the flower petals? Is this how you treat a celebrity guest?"
"You're not a celebrity, you're a nuisance," I grilled, hugging him. "And take off those glasses, you look like a rejected background dancer."
Abhishek walked in, pushing past me. "This is style, mere bhai. Yuvraj Paaji says attitude is 50% of the game. Also, wow."
I kicked him gently. "You, dramebaaz."
He jumped up, dusting off his knees, and threw himself onto the sofa. "Anyway, enough about your obscene wealth. Tell me about the World Cup. That six off Southee? Bro. I was watching with Yuvi Paaji. He spilled his protein shake. He said, 'That is a Punjabi shot played by a Mumbai boy'."
"High praise," I smiled, sitting opposite him. "How is training?"
"Brutal," Abhishek shuddered. "Yuvi Paaji doesn't believe in rest. He makes me run until I see my ancestors. But the bat swing is getting better."
We spent the next hour doing what we always did—talking absolute rubbish. We analyzed the World Cup, we roasted our teammates, we argued about which GTA game was the best. It was effortless. It was grounding.
Then, Abhishek checked his watch.
"So," he said, leaning forward, a mischievous glint in his eye. "You called me urgently. Said you have a 'surprise'. What is it? Did you buy an island? Are we going to Ibiza?"
I checked my own watch. 5:15 PM. Shradha was due any minute.
"No island," I said, trying to keep my face neutral. "I want you to meet someone."
Abhishek raised an eyebrow. "Someone? A girl?"
"Yes."
"Oho!" He clapped his hands. "Finally! The Prince has found a Princess? Who is she? Is she an actress? A model? Don't tell me it's that influencer who commented on your post yesterday?"
"No," I said nervously. "It's... well, you know her. Sort of."
"I know her?" Abhishek frowned. "Is it my ex? Because if it is, I will kill you."
"It is not your ex, you idiot."
Just then, the doorbell rang again. A polite, singular ring.
"That's her," I said, standing up. My heart rate spiked. This was the first time I was introducing her to the 'inner circle'.
Abhishek sat back, crossing his arms, judging. "Go on then. Let's see who captured the heart of my Man."
I walked to the door. I took a deep breath. I opened it.
Shradha stood there. She looked beautiful, simple, and terrifyingly famous. She was wearing blue jeans and a white kurti. She smiled at me, holding a box of sweets.
"Hi," she whispered.
"Hi," I smiled back. "Ready?"
"Nope," she giggled. "Let's do it."
I stepped aside. Shradha walked into the living room.
Abhishek was looking at his phone. He didn't look up immediately. "So, bhabhi ji," Abhishek said, still scrolling. "What is your name? I hope you like cricket because this guy is obsession-"
He looked up.
He stopped speaking. He stopped blinking. He might have stopped breathing.
His phone slipped from his hand. It hit the floor with a loud thud, but he didn't notice.
He stared at Shradha. Then he looked at me. Then he looked back at Shradha. Then he rubbed his eyes vigorously, as if checking if his eyes were hallucinating.
Shradha stood there, smiling politely, holding the box of ladoos.
"Hi, Abhishek," she said. Her voice was familiar. The face was familiar. The last name was the most familiar thing in the country.
Abhishek stood up slowly. His legs were shaking. He pointed a trembling finger at her.
"You..." he squeaked. His voice cracked. "You are..."
He turned to me, his eyes wide with genuine terror. "Aarav... why is Sachin Tendulkar's daughter in your living room?"
I put my arm around Shradha's waist. "Abhishek, meet Shradha. My fiancée."
The System Crash
If life was a cartoon, this would be the moment where Abhishek's jaw hit the floor with a metallic clang and steam came out of his ears. Since this was real life, he just did the next best thing.
He collapsed back onto the sofa.
"Fiancée?" he whispered. "Fiancé as in... Shaadi? Marriage?"
"Yes," Shradha nodded, trying to suppress a laugh.
Abhishek looked at the ceiling. "Bhagwan, utha le re deva. (God, take me now). Not him, take me."
He looked at me with a mix of awe and betrayal. "You... you dog! You scoundrel! You chupa rustam (hidden talent)!"
He jumped up again, pacing the room.
"Shradha Tendulkar! You are dating Shradha Tendulkar?! That's not a girlfriend, Aarav! That is royalty! That is the Kohinoor Diamond! Does her father know? Oh my god, does HE know?"
"He knows," I laughed. "He calls me 'Son'."
Abhishek grabbed his own hair. "He calls you 'Son'? Sachin Tendulkar calls you 'Son'? I can't breathe. I need water. No, I need something stronger. Do you have Rooh Afza?"
Shradha walked over and placed the sweet box on the table. "Abhishek, breathe. It's not that big a deal."
"Not a big deal?" Abhishek spun around. "Bhabhi ji... sorry, Shradha ji... sorry, Ma'am... do you know who your father is? In this country, dating you is like dating the daughter of Zeus! One wrong move and thunderbolt! Aarav, are you crazy? How do you sleep at night? If I had to have dinner with Sachin Sir, I would faint into the soup!"
"It was scary at first," I admitted. "But he's chill."
"Chill," Abhishek repeated, deadpan. "The God of Cricket is 'chill'. Okay. Sure. And I am the Prime Minister of England."
He walked up to me and punched my arm. Hard. "Why didn't you tell me? We are childhood friends! I told you when I had a crush on the biology teacher! And you hide this?"
"I wanted to keep it private," I defended. "Until the World Cup."
"Private," Abhishek scoffed. "You are dating the First Daughter of Cricket and you kept it private. You are a ninja. A fucking ninja."
He turned to Shradha, suddenly very respectful. He folded his hands. "Namaste, Bhabhi ji. Welcome to the madness. Please forgive my friend. He is good at cricket but his brain is a little slow."
Shradha laughed, a warm, genuine sound. "I think he's doing okay. Nice to finally meet you, Abhishek. Aarav talks about you a lot."
"He does?" Abhishek beamed. Then his face fell. "Wait. Does... does your Dad know about me?"
"Yes," Shradha nodded mischievously. "Aarav told him about the time you tried to bowl fast and broke the window of the principal's office."
Abhishek turned pale. "My reputation is ruined. I can never play for India now. The selector is watching me."
We sat down. The initial shock had subsided, replaced by an intense interrogation session. Abhishek sat on the edge of the sofa, looking at us like a detective.
"So," Abhishek pointed a fry (we had ordered food) at me. "How? When? Where?"
"A few years ago," I said. "In New Zealand I met her."
"Cricket Tour?" Abhishek guessed.
"Yeah."
"And? You just walked up to her and said, 'Hey, I'm future star Aarav Pathak'?"
Shradha smiled at me. "And he didn't know who I was before. He treated me like a normal person. That was... nice."
"He didn't know who you were?" Abhishek looked at me with disdain. "Bro, do you live under a rock? How did you not know Shradha Tendulkar?"
"I was focused on cricket!" I protested.
"Lies," Abhishek dismissed. "Okay, continue. Then what?"
"Then we talked," I said. "Exchanged numbers. Texted. Met up for coffee. It just... happened."
"And the proposal?" Abhishek leaned in. "Did you do it on a yacht? Or in space? Since you can afford it."
"Not yet," I said. "But soon."
Abhishek looked at Shradha. "Bhabhi, you have to tell me. What is it like? Does Sachin Sir give batting tips at the dinner table? Does he sleep with his helmet on?"
Shradha chuckled. "He's just a normal dad, Abhishek. He scolds me if I don't eat my vegetables. He watches movies. He cracks bad jokes."
"Bad jokes?" Abhishek looked disappointed. "My idols are human. This is depressing."
Eventually, the conversation drifted back to cricket. It always does.
"So," Abhishek said, his demeanor changing. "IPL Mega Auction. Sunrisers are releasing me."
"I know," I said, sipping my coffee.
"I have offers," he said. "Punjab wants me back. Mumbai is sniffing around."
I looked at him. "Don't sign anything."
Abhishek paused. "Why?"
"Because," I leaned forward. "I'm building a team."
"A team?"
"The Gujarat Titans," I said. "I'm the Captain. And I need a Vice-Captain. Or at least, a core member who I can trust with my life. Someone who can hit sixes and bowl spin."
Abhishek's eyes widened. "You want... me?"
"I want my brother," I said. "I want us to build a dynasty. You and me. Left hand, Right hand. Yuvraj and Dhoni style."
Abhishek looked at Shradha. "Is he serious?"
"Dead serious," she nodded. "He's been planning this for months. He has a spreadsheet with your name highlighted in yellow."
Abhishek looked back at me. A slow grin spread across his face.
"Captain Aarav Pathak," he mused. "And Deputy Abhishek Sharma. It sounds... chaotic."
"It sounds like a trophy," I corrected.
"Okay," Abhishek said. "I'm in. But on one condition."
"What?"
"You have to get me an autograph from your Father-in-Law. On my bat."
"Done," I laughed. "I'll get you a bat signed by him."
"And," Abhishek added. "You have to promise me that if I get out for a duck, you won't tell Sachin Sir."
"I can't promise that," Shradha laughed. "Dad watches every match."
Abhishek groaned, putting his head in his hands. "The pressure! It's starting already!"
Around 8 PM, Abhishek stood up to leave. He picked up his bag.
"This was... a lot," he said, shaking his head. "I came for Maggie, and I got a celebrity Bhabhi, and a job offer."
He hugged Shradha. "Nice to meet you, Bhabhi. Take care of this idiot. He thinks he's a King, but he still forgets to put the cap on the toothpaste."
"I've noticed," she smiled.
He hugged me. "Proud of you, brother. Really. World Cup, 100 Million followers... it's all great. But seeing you happy? That's the best part."
"Thanks, Abhi."
"See you at the auction," he winked. "Don't be cheap."
I deadpanned. "I'll buy you and your entire village."
He laughed and walked out the door.
I closed it, turning back to Shradha. The house was quiet again.
"He's nice," Shradha said. "Crazy, but nice."
"He's family," I said.
I walked over to the window, looking out at the Mumbai lights. The secret circle was expanding. The team was forming.
"Gujarat Titans," I whispered. "It has a nice ring to it."
"It does," Shradha agreed, standing beside me. "But 'Captain Aarav' sounds better."
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December 26, 2021. SuperSport Park, Centurion.1st Test: India vs South Africa.Day 1. Morning Session.
The transition from the pyrotechnics of Dubai to the serene, menacing beauty of Centurion is one of the starkest shifts in world cricket. Gone were the ring of fire floodlights, the DJ blasting music between overs, and the flat, dew-slicked pitches.
In their place stood the open, grassy banks of SuperSport Park, where spectators barbecued braai under the African sun. The air here was thinner, the altitude high, and the pitch... the pitch was a lush, green strip that promised pace, bounce, and a stern examination of technique.
This was the "Final Frontier." India had conquered Australia. We had conquered England. But a Test series victory in South Africa remained elusive, a gap in the trophy cabinet that gnawed at Virat Kohli.
walked out in his blazer, looking every inch the Test captain. He called correctly. "We'll bat first," Virat said. "Runs on the board are crucial here. The pitch will quicken up, but we back our openers to see off the new ball."
Dean Elgar, the gritty South African skipper, didn't look too disappointed. "We would have bowled. There's moisture. We have Rabada, Ngidi, and a tall debutant in Marco Jansen. We'll test them."
The first session was a masterclass in abstinence.
KL Rahul and Mayank Agarwal, childhood friends from Karnataka, walked out to face the music. Kagiso Rabada and Lungi Ngidi steamed in, hitting the deck hard. The ball hissed past the outside edge, jagged back in, and climbed towards the throat.
But the openers were resolute. They left well. They defended with soft hands. They didn't go chasing glory; they chased survival.
I sat in the dressing room, pads on, watching intently. The 'King's Aura' from the T20 World Cup had been packed away. Test cricket demanded a different kind of respect. Here, you couldn't stare down the bowler if your technique was loose. The red ball would find you out.
Lunch came and went. India was 83/0. A perfect start.
Post-Lunch Session.
The sun beat down harder. Mayank Agarwal, who had been watchful, started to flow. He reached his fifty with a glorious drive through covers. KL Rahul was a statue of concentration, moving towards his own milestone.
Sunil Gavaskar (Comms): "In South Africa, the new ball is the biggest threat. These two have blunted it. They have forced Elgar to go to his change bowlers. Wiaan Mulder is trying to dry up the runs, but the damage is done."
Hashim Amla (Comms): "Patience is key here, Sunny. The Kookaburra ball softens after 40 overs. If India doesn't lose a wicket now, they can look at 400. But one wicket... one wicket changes the mood quickly at Centurion."
Over 40. The partnership was 117. Mayank was on 60. KL Rahul was on 47. Lungi Ngidi, the big fast bowler, came back for a new spell. He looked frustrated.
Ball 40.1: Dot.
Ball 40.2: Ngidi hit a good length. It wasn't a half-volley, nor was it short. It was that awkward length that slides on. Mayank was caught deep in the crease. He tried to push at it with a straight bat, anticipating the ball to hold its line. But the ball nipped back in sharply. He was beaten on the inside edge.
Thud.
It hit him high on the knee roll, right in front of leg stump. "HOWZAT!" Ngidi screamed. De Kock screamed. The slip cordon went up.
The umpire, Marais Erasmus, shook his head. Not Out. He probably thought it was too high or sliding down leg.
Dean Elgar gathered his troops. "It looked close, Dean," De Kock said. "Height is the issue." "I think it's hitting," Ngidi pleaded. "It straightened."
Elgar looked at the timer. 3 seconds left. He made the 'T' sign. Review.
Pommie Mbangwa (Comms): "Elgar reviews again! Once again, it may be a poor one. Let's take a look. This is good length, sliding in from a middle stump line and hitting Mayank on the knee roll in front of leg stump. He was caught deep in the crease. To the naked eye, this looks like it's missing leg. Bouncing over, maybe?"
The replay rolled. UltraEdge: No bat. Ball Tracking: Pitching: In Line. Impact: In Line. Wickets: CLIPPING.
The giant screen flashed OUT. Wait. Umpire's Call? No. The tracking showed it hitting the top of the leg stump firmly enough to overturn the decision. The on-field call was reversed.
Pommie Mbangwa (Comms): "Oh wait! Elgar's got it right! Apologies to him. And well done too, I suppose. Tracking has this clipping the top of leg! South Africa have the wicket they desperately needed!"
Sunil Gavaskar (Comms): "That is a huge moment against the run of play. Mayank is shaking his head aggressively as he walks off. He can't believe it. In the dressing room, look at him... hands on his hips, helmet still on. But the technology says out. India 117 for 1."
A hush fell over the ground. The deadlock was broken. The door was ajar. And through that door walked Aarav Pathak.
I adjusted my gloves as I crossed the boundary rope. The applause was polite, respectful. This wasn't the raucous cheer of the Wankhede; this was the knowledgeable appreciation of a Test crowd. They knew who I was. The T20 World Cup hero.
But red ball cricket has a way of resetting your ego.
I jogged to the middle. The air was thin, making my lungs work a little harder. KL Rahul met me halfway. "Unlucky for Mayank," KL muttered, tapping his bat. "But the ball is doing a bit now. Ngidi has found his rhythm. Watch the bounce."
"Got it," I said. "Play late. Leave early."
I took my guard. Middle stump. I marked the crease with my spikes. I looked up. The South African fielders were energized. Kagiso Rabada was at mid-on, staring at me. Marco Jansen, the tall debutant, was at gully.
Hashim Amla (Comms): "Here is the young man. Aarav Pathak. He has had a golden year. But South Africa... this is a different test. The bounce here at Centurion can surprise you. He plays with an open stance in white-ball cricket; let's see if he tightens up for the red ball."
Ball 40.3: Ngidi to Aarav. First ball. Ngidi ran in, tail up. He banged it in short of a good length, testing the new batsman immediately. I saw it early. The bounce was indeed true. I stood tall, rose with the ball, and defended it with a soft bottom hand. The ball dropped dead at my feet. "No run."
Ball 40.4: Ngidi went full, searching for the inswinger that got Mayank. I leaned forward. My head was right over the ball. Perfect technique. I pushed it to mid-off. Dot Ball.
Ball 40.5: Width. Ngidi offered a little room outside off. In T20, I would have slashed it over point. Here, I watched it all the way into De Kock's gloves. Left alone.
Sunil Gavaskar (Comms): "Good discipline. He isn't fishing. He knows he has all day. That T20 instinct to feel bat on ball... he has curbed it nicely."
Ball 40.6: Last ball of the over. Ngidi tried the heavy ball again, angling into the body. I worked it off my hips towards square leg. I wanted a single to get off the mark, but the fielder was sharp. "No, no," KL called. Dot Ball.
End of Over 40.India: 117/1.KL Rahul: 47.* Aarav Pathak: 0 (4).*
I walked down the pitch to tap it. The surface was hard. "Settle in," KL said. "This is going to be a grind."
I looked at the scoreboard. 117/1. A good platform. But I knew that in South Africa, a collapse is always one bad hour away.
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The wicket of Mayank Agarwal had given South Africa a sniff. The crowd on the grass banks was up, sensing an opening. Lungi Ngidi was steaming in, his tail up, the red Kookaburra ball still hard enough to talk.
I stood at the non-striker's end, watching KL Rahul. He was batting on 47. He tapped the pitch, his face a mask of concentration. He knew, and I knew, that the next hour was the most critical phase of the day. If we lost another wicket now, 117/1 could easily become 150/4.
Kagiso Rabada replaced Mulder. The premier fast bowler against the new man.
Over 42. Ball 1: Rabada to Aarav. He didn't give me a sighter. 146 kmph. Good length, just outside off, shaping away. The temptation to drive was there—the ball was full enough. But in England, I had learned to play late. In South Africa, you have to play even later because of the bounce. I resisted. I watched it all the way into Quinton de Kock's gloves. Left alone.
Sunil Gavaskar (Comms): "That is the test. The 'Fourth Stump' line. Rabada is inviting the drive. Aarav has to be disciplined. He cannot play on the rise here like he does in Dubai. The bounce will kill you."
I played out the over. A maiden. Rabada stared at me. I stared back, not with aggression, but with a calm, boring indifference. I have time.
For the next ten overs, we didn't play cricket; we played chess. Rahul reached his 50 with a patient push to mid-on. He raised his bat subtly. Job not done.
I was on 12 off 30 balls. Slow. Deliberate. Then, Marco Jansen, the tall left-armer, strayed in line. He bowled full on my pads. I didn't try to hit it hard. I just leaned into it, using my wrists to close the face of the bat at the last second. The ball raced through the gap between mid-on and mid-wicket. FOUR.
Hashim Amla (Comms): "Beautifully played. He waited for the ball to come to him. That's the key on the Highveld. You don't go searching for the ball. You let it arrive. Aarav looks very compact today."
The partnership began to build. We rotated the strike with obsessive precision. If Rabada bowled a good ball to me, I dropped it with soft hands to the off-side and called, "Run!" We sprinted. By the time the fielder swooped in, we were safe. It frustrated them. Fast bowlers hate singles. It messes up their rhythm. It forces them to change their line for different batsman.
Score at Tea: 157/1.KL Rahul: 68.* Aarav Pathak: 24.*
The final session. The shadows lengthened across the park. The South African bowlers looked tired. The altitude was getting to them. The intense heat of the day had baked the pitch, making it slightly better for batting.
Dean Elgar threw the ball to Keshav Maharaj, the spinner. "Spin?" I whispered to KL. "In Centurion on Day 1?" "They are tired," KL grinned, wiping sweat. "Let's cash in."
Over 64: Maharaj to Aarav. Maharaj tossed it up, trying to find drift. I saw the flight. I didn't need to slog. I danced down the track—just two quick steps to smother the spin. I drove it inside-out over extra cover. It wasn't a violent shot. It was a caress. The timing was so pure that the sound was barely audible. The ball sailed over the boundary rope. SIX!
Pommie Mbangwa (Comms): "Shot! That is pure class! He makes it look so easy. Maharaj tried to loop it, and Aarav just extended his arms. The balance, the poise... South Africa are running out of ideas here."
That shot opened the floodgates. Rabada returned, trying to bounce me out. He banged it in short. I got on top of the bounce. I rolled my wrists. The Pull Shot. Kept along the ground, dissecting deep square leg and fine leg. FOUR.
Then KL Rahul joined the party. He drove Ngidi straight down the ground—a shot that belonged in a museum.
The 200 came up. The partnership crossed 100 runs.
We were finding gaps that didn't exist. A backfoot punch by me through point for three runs—the outfield was lightning fast. A delicate late cut by KL past the slips for four.
We were running them ragged. The South African fielders were shoulders-slumped, chasing leather.
Over 78: I was on 68. Wiaan Mulder bowled a wide half-volley. I leaned into the drive. The weight transfer was perfect. My head was over the knee. The ball rocketed through covers. FOUR.
Sunil Gavaskar (Comms): "He is painting pictures now. That cover drive... you could frame it. Look at the position of the head. Still. Perfect. The South African bowlers are exhausted. They are feeding him width, and he is feasting."
As the sun began to dip below the horizon, the focus shifted to KL Rahul. He was on 96. He had batted all day. He had faced over 200 balls. He deserved this.
Over 84: Keshav Maharaj. Rahul on strike. Maharaj bowled a fuller one outside off. Rahul leaned back and cut it past point. It raced away. FOUR.
HUNDRED FOR KL RAHUL!
He took off his helmet. He closed his eyes, soaking in the applause. He raised his bat to the dressing room, then to the crowd. I ran up to him and engulfed him in a hug. "What an innings," I said. "Masterclass."
Hashim Amla (Comms): "A magnificent century. On a Day 1 pitch at Centurion, against this attack... this is one of the finest overseas hundreds by an Indian opener. He has been patient, he has been disciplined, and now he is reaping the rewards."
With the century done and the second new ball taken, we decided to ensure we didn't lose a wicket before stumps. But 'not losing a wicket' didn't mean 'not scoring'.
Kagiso Rabada took the second new ball. He was angry. He steamed in at me. Ball 86.3: Full, swinging in. I presented the full face of the bat. The Straight Drive. It beat mid-on. It raced away. FOUR.
Ball 86.5: Short and wide. I rose on my toes. Backfoot Punch. It pierced the gap between cover-point and gully. FOUR.
I moved into the 80s. I was catching up to KL.
Pommie Mbangwa (Comms): "They are making it look easy now! Rabada is bowling 145, but Aarav is punching him off the back foot like it's a net session. The body language of South Africa is gone. They are praying for the umpire to call stumps."
We played out the final few overs safely. No risks. Just solid defense and punishing the bad balls.
The umpire checked the light meter. He looked at his watch. He pulled the bails.
STUMPS, DAY 1.
India: 289/1.KL Rahul: 122 (248 balls).* Aarav Pathak: 88 (148 balls).*
The partnership was unbroken. 172 runs added since Mayank fell.
We walked off the field. The South African players looked shattered. They had toiled for 90 overs and taken only one wicket.
I put my arm around KL. "You tired?" I asked. "Exhausted," KL laughed. "But I could bat another day." "Good," I grinned. "Because we are batting tomorrow. I want my hundred or even higher."
We crossed the rope. The team was waiting, clapping. Virat Kohli was beaming. We had silenced the fortress on Day 1.
Sunil Gavaskar (Comms): "A dominant day for India. KL Rahul was the architect, but Aarav Pathak... the way he adapted from T20 mode to this gritty Test innings... that shows his class. 289 for 1. India has one hand on the Test match already."
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Author's Note: - 6400+ Words 😮😮{Long too long chapter...}
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