Date: August 14, 2013
Location: The Deva Farmhouse, Shamshabad, Hyderabad
The rhythmic, mechanical whir of the Bola bowling machine was the only sound cutting through the quiet, humid morning air of the Shamshabad estate.
It was 6:30 AM. Inside the custom-built, enclosed practice nets located at the far edge of the farmhouse property, Siddanth Deva was already deep into his daily grind. He was wearing a sweat-soaked grey t-shirt and track pants, fully padded up, his helmet securely strapped on.
Twenty-two yards away, standing behind the heavy protective netting of the machine, a trusted estate worker named Ramu was methodically feeding worn, red leather cricket balls into the feeder tube.
"Increase the speed to 155, Ramu," Siddanth called out, his voice echoing slightly in the enclosed space. "And angle it back into the body."
Ramu nodded, since Deva had already shown him how to do it, turning the analog dials on the machine. He fed the next ball.
The machine whirred, spitting the red cherry out with terrifying velocity. It skidded off the synthetic turf, angling sharply toward Siddanth's ribcage. Siddanth didn't flinch. Utilizing his Perfect Rhythm and elite hand-eye coordination, he rocked onto his back foot, swiveled his hips, and pulled the ball forcefully into the side netting with a sharp crack.
He wasn't practicing for a specific match. He was simply maintaining his muscle memory. The international calendar was currently in a brief lull following the Zimbabwe tour, but Siddanth knew better than to let his physical edge dull.
He batted for another forty-five minutes, flawlessly executing cover drives, defensive blocks, and aggressive pull shots against the relentless, tireless machine.
"Alright, that's enough for today," Siddanth finally announced, stepping out of his stance and pulling off his helmet. He ran a hand through his damp hair. "Good session. Take a break."
"Yes, Anna," Ramu smiled, powering down the machine and beginning to collect the scattered balls.
Siddanth unstrapped his batting pads and picked up his kitbag. As he walked across the lawn toward the main villa, his phone vibrated in his pocket.
He pulled it out. It was a call from Rahul, his personal executive assistant.
Siddanth swiped to answer. "Morning, Rahul. What is it?"
"Good morning, sir," Rahul's professional, even voice came through the speaker. "I apologize for calling so early, but I just received an inquiry from the production team at India TV. They want to know if you are interested in appearing as a guest on Aap Ki Adalat with Rajat Sharma."
Siddanth paused his walking, his mind immediately processing the request.
Aap Ki Adalat was not a standard, polite sports talk show. It was a cultural institution in India. The format involved the guest sitting in a mock courtroom witness box while the veteran journalist, Rajat Sharma, politely but aggressively interrogated them on every single controversy, rumor, and professional decision of their career.
For a normal twenty-two-year-old cricketer, walking into that crossfire would be a PR nightmare. But Siddanth wasn't normal. As Rahul mentioned the show, Siddanth's mind immediately generated the exact "charges" Rajat Sharma would inevitably hurl at him.
"Tell them I agree to attend," Siddanth said, resuming his walk toward the house.
"Understood, sir," Rahul replied, not sounding entirely surprised by the decision. "I will speak to their representatives today and coordinate a date that fits around your schedule."
"Perfect. Let me know when it's locked in," Siddanth said. "I have to get ready for the office. I'll see you in an hour."
"Yes, sir."
Siddanth ended the call and walked into the quiet villa. He headed straight upstairs to his room, tossing his sweaty training gear into the laundry basket. He took a quick, cold shower to lower his core temperature, dressing sharply in a dark navy blue button-down shirt and well-fitted dark trousers. He rolled his sleeves up to his forearms—his standard, understated uniform for the NEXUS boardroom.
He was strapping on his watch when his phone vibrated again.
He picked it up. It was Rahul again.
"Did India TV already give you a date?" Siddanth asked, picking up his wallet and keys from the nightstand.
"No, sir. This is regarding something else," Rahul said. There was a rare, noticeable shift in the tone. The usual flat professionalism was replaced by a distinct, genuine warmth. "I just received an official communication from the Ministry of Youth Affairs and Sports in New Delhi."
Siddanth stopped near his bedroom door. "And?"
"The selection committee has finalized the list, sir," Rahul announced. "You are going to be awarded the Arjuna Award for outstanding achievement in sports this year. The official ceremony at Rashtrapati Bhavan will take place later this month."
Siddanth let out a slow, quiet breath.
The Arjuna Award was the second-highest sporting honor in the country. To receive it at the age of twenty-two, usually reserved for athletes at the twilight of their long careers, was a massive testament to the absolute devastation he had unleashed on global cricket over the last four years.
A genuine smile broke across Siddanth's face.
"Thank you for letting me know, Rahul," Siddanth said, his voice softening with sincere appreciation.
"Congratulations, sir. You've more than earned it," Rahul replied respectfully.
Siddanth ended the call. He slipped the phone into his pocket and walked downstairs to the ground floor.
The smell of freshly brewed filter coffee and warm idlis wafted from the kitchen. His parents, Vikram and Sesikala, were sitting at the large wooden dining table, enjoying their quiet morning breakfast routine. Vikram was reading the Telugu daily newspaper, while Sesikala was serving a spoonful of coconut chutney onto his plate.
"You took a long time in the nets today, Siddu," Sesikala noted as he pulled out a chair and sat down. "Eat while it's hot."
Siddanth took a piece of idli, dipping it into the chutney. He looked at his parents. They had supported him when he was playing local division cricket with a battered bat, long before the billions and the fame.
"I just got a call from the Sports Ministry in Delhi," Siddanth said casually, keeping his tone entirely conversational.
Vikram lowered his newspaper, peering over his reading glasses. "The Ministry? Do they want you to do an advertisement for a government scheme?"
"No, Nanna," Siddanth smiled, leaning his elbows on the table. "They called to inform me that I have been selected for the Arjuna Award this year."
The dining room went completely still.
Vikram slowly took his reading glasses off, placing them on the folded newspaper. He stared at his son, the sheer magnitude of the honor sinking in. For a traditional Indian father, national awards bestowed by the President carried an undeniable prestige that money could simply never buy.
"The Arjuna Award?" Vikram repeated, his voice thick with a sudden, overwhelming sense of pride. He looked at Siddanth, a wide, genuine smile breaking across his face. "At twenty-two? Siddu, that is... that is an incredible honor. I don't even know what to say. I am so proud of you."
The immense pride was evident on Sesikala's face too. She walked quickly around the table, grabbed Siddanth by the shoulders, and pressed a firm, affectionate kiss to the top of his head.
"I knew it," Sesikala said, her eyes shining with unshed, happy tears. "I knew all those hours you spent bowling in the sun would bring you here. We have to go to the temple today. I am arranging a special pooja."
"Amma, I have to go to the office—"
"The office can wait," she ordered with absolute maternal authority, though she was smiling widely. "The President of India is giving you an award. We are giving thanks first."
Siddanth chuckled, raising his hands in surrender. "Okay, okay. Temple first."
After finishing his breakfast and promising his mother he would accompany them to the temple that evening, Siddanth walked out to the garage and got into his car.
As he pulled out of the estate and merged onto the highway toward Hi-Tec City, he connected his phone to the car's Bluetooth system and dialed Krithika's number.
She picked up on the third ring. "Hey, Sid. Good morning."
"Morning, Krithi," Siddanth smiled, smoothly shifting gears as the V10 engine roared onto the open stretch of road. "Are you on your way to college?"
"Just getting ready to leave," she replied. "What's going on? You usually don't call this early unless it's important."
"The Sports Ministry called my assistant this morning," Siddanth said, keeping his eyes on the morning traffic. "I'm getting the Arjuna Award."
There was a sharp gasp on the other end of the line.
"Sid! Oh my god!" Krithika's voice spiked with genuine excitement. "Are you serious?! The Arjuna Award? That's massive! I am so proud of you!"
"Thank you," Siddanth said warmly, the pride in her voice making the achievement feel even more real.
For the next twenty minutes, as Siddanth navigated the bustling Hyderabad traffic, they simply talked. They talked about Ronny's new habit of chewing on her textbooks, her upcoming exams, and his mother's sudden determination to organize a massive pooja at the local temple. It was a comfortable, grounding conversation that made the commute fly by.
As he turned into the final stretch approaching Hi-Tec City, Siddanth glanced at the dashboard clock.
"I'm pulling up to the NEXUS headquarters," Siddanth said. "I'm hanging up, I have to go now. Arjun is probably waiting for me."
"Okay," Krithika said softly. "Call me at night when you are free."
"I will. Bye, Krithi."
Two minutes later, Siddanth pulled his Audi into the reserved underground parking bay of the towering NEXUS Headquarters in Hi-Tec City. He took the private elevator straight to the top-floor executive suite.
The moment the elevator doors chimed open, Arjun Reddy was standing there waiting for him, holding a tablet.
Before Siddanth could even step fully into the hallway, Arjun stepped forward and pulled him into a massive, tight bear hug.
"The Arjuna Award!" Arjun laughed loudly, clapping Siddanth on the back. "Rahul just told me! Bro, you are officially national royalty now. Congratulations!"
"Thanks, Arjun," Siddanth smiled, patting his best friend on the back and stepping out of the elevator. "It's been a good morning. But we have a company to run. Walk with me."
They headed into Siddanth's sprawling, minimalist office. Siddanth tossed his keys onto the desk and sat down in his high-backed chair.
"Tell me about the infrastructure," Siddanth ordered, instantly transitioning from the awarded cricketer to the calculating CEO. "Is the groundwork for the fabless semiconductor design company finished?"
Arjun sat in the chair opposite him, unlocking his tablet and pulling up the highly classified legal documents.
"It is almost entirely complete, Sid," Arjun reported, his tone shifting to pure business. "The shell companies in Singapore have successfully routed the algorithm's funds. We have officially incorporated NEXUS Silicon as a separate entity. The architectural blueprints for the R&D campus are finalized, and we have scouted a massive, three-hundred-acre parcel of land near the ORR."
"And the acquisition of the land?" Siddanth asked, leaning forward.
"That's where we are stalled," Arjun sighed, setting the tablet down. "We can't move forward with purchasing land of that magnitude without state government approval and industrial tax subsidies. Right now, the political situation in Andhra Pradesh is completely paralyzed. The protests for a separate Telangana state have brought the bureaucracy to a standstill. Nobody in the secretariat is signing off on massive industrial projects because no one knows who is going to be in charge next year. All we need is a stable government for the process to finish."
Siddanth leaned back in his chair, steepling his fingers. He looked out the floor-to-ceiling windows at the Hyderabad skyline.
"The general elections are next year, in 2014," Arjun noted, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. "It's a three-way war here. The Congress party is currently in power, the TDP has a massive historical foothold, and the TRS is riding the entire statehood agitation wave. Who do you honestly think is going to win, Sid? Because we need to align our corporate lobbying efforts now."
Siddanth didn't need to guess. His memory held the precise, unalterable trajectory of Indian political history.
"It's going to be the TRS," Siddanth stated with absolute, chilling certainty. "Congress is passing the bill too late. The people of this region won't see it as a gift from Delhi; they will see it as a victory forced by the TRS. The TDP is viewed heavily as a Seemandhra party, which immediately disqualifies them in the new state. When the state officially splits next year, the TRS will sweep the assembly elections."
"So KCR becomes the first Chief Minister of Telangana," Arjun summarized.
"Yes," Siddanth confirmed. "And when he takes office, he is going to have a massive problem. He will need to prove to the entire world that Hyderabad is still a safe, lucrative hub for global IT and manufacturing, despite the chaotic split from Andhra Pradesh. He will be desperate for a flagship corporate investment to legitimize his new government. That is exactly when we walk into his office with a multi-billion dollar semiconductor project. He won't just approve the land acquisition; he will practically give it to us for free, along with ten years of tax holidays."
Arjun nodded slowly, absorbing the political calculus. He didn't look panicked, but as a responsible CEO, he analyzed the risk factors.
"It's a sound theory, Sid. A brilliant geopolitical leverage," Arjun conceded cautiously. "But betting our entire corporate lobbying effort on just one regional party is a massive risk. If your political math is wrong and Congress somehow stays in power, they will bury NEXUS in tax audits for a decade for funding the opposition. Are you absolutely certain we shouldn't hedge our bets?"
Siddanth leaned back, perfectly relaxed, his eyes locking onto his best friend. "Remember Bitcoin?"
Arjun blinked, momentarily thrown by the pivot. "The cryptocurrency?"
"When I first told you to mine them a few years ago, you laughed," Siddanth reminded him smoothly. "You asked me what invisible digital money was actually worth. Today, it sits at nearly a thousand dollars a coin. So, believe me when my math says the TRS wins this election."
Arjun smiled wryly, conceding the point with a respectful nod. "Fair enough. The crypto mining was worth it. I'll see what I can do to quietly get close to the key players in the TRS leadership. I'll make a few substantial, highly compliant corporate donations to their campaign funds through our legal channels this week."
"Good," Siddanth said, standing up from his desk. "Now, let's go check on the products that are actually making us money today."
For the rest of the day, Siddanth abandoned the executive suite and walked down to the bustling, open-plan engineering floors of the NEXUS building.
His first stop was the software development wing.
He stood behind the lead developers, reviewing the live user engagement metrics. The app had practically monopolized the Indian smartphone market since the Bolt launch.
"The text delivery is flawless, but we are lagging behind global standards on security," Siddanth instructed the lead engineer, looking at the code structure on the monitor. "I want end-to-end encryption baked into the fundamental architecture by the next update. No one, not even us, should be able to read user messages. And begin the foundational coding for Voice-over-IP (VoIP). If we can introduce free, high-quality voice calls over 2G and 3G networks before our competitor does, we lock in the entire telecom sector."
The engineers scrambled to take notes, energized by the clear, ambitious directives.
Next, Siddanth moved to the team handling Vibe, their photo-sharing and ephemeral stories application.
"The user interface is clean, but the content discovery algorithm is too rigid," Siddanth noted, engaging his Architect's Mind to analyze the predictive models. "Users are only seeing posts from people they follow. I want an 'Explore' page integrated. Alter the algorithm to analyze the meta-tags of the photos they engage with the most, and feed them similar content from users they don't follow. It increases retention time and gives us prime real estate for native, non-intrusive advertising."
Finally, Siddanth walked into the darkened, neon-lit floor of the Gaming Studio.
He sat down with the lead game designers who were currently managing the cash cow, Candy Crush Saga, and overseeing the development of Project Battlegrounds (PUBG), which was being aggressively prepped for an exclusive reveal at the upcoming E3 convention in Los Angeles.
"Candy Crush is generating steady revenue, but we need to optimize the micro-transactions," Siddanth advised, looking at the monetization graphs. "Don't just offer extra lives. Offer localized, culturally relevant power-ups during Indian and Global festivals at a discounted rate. Volume over high margins."
He then turned to a massive monitor displaying a raw, unpolished build of the PUBG alpha running on a high-end PC. A developer was moving a highly detailed, tactical character across a sprawling island map.
"The ballistic physics feel too arcade-like," Siddanth critiqued, leaning closer to the screen. "We want absolute realism. Introduce bullet drop and travel time for the sniper rifles. Make the recoil on the assault rifles completely unpredictable unless the player is prone or crouched."
"Sir, won't that make the game too difficult for the average casual gamer?" the lead designer asked hesitantly.
"Difficulty breeds competition," Siddanth countered smoothly. "If the game is too easy, they get bored. If it requires actual skill and tactical positioning, it becomes a global e-sport. Oh, and make sure you keep the cast-iron frying pan in the final build. Make it capable of deflecting bullets."
The designer blinked, typing the bizarre request into his notes. "Deflecting bullets with a frying pan. Understood, sir."
Siddanth spent the remaining hours of the afternoon moving from desk to desk, reviewing UI wireframes, optimizing server loads, and ensuring his vision was flawlessly executed across every division of the company.
By the time he finally left the building as the sun set over Hyderabad, the news of his Arjuna Award had saturated the evening news cycles. But for Siddanth Deva, the award was simply a reflection of the past.
His eyes were firmly fixed on the future.