July 1, 2018 — London, United Kingdom
Team India Tour – 4 T20Is, 3 ODIs, 5 tests
🧳 Scene 1: Arrival at Heathrow
The runway lights blurred beneath the Airbus A320 as it descended into Heathrow. Rain tapped the fuselage, grey clouds hanging low—Britain in its eternal urban drizzle.
Ishaan Verma sat by the window, headphones on, yet he heard the hum of the cabin, the whispered breaths of fellow passengers, and his own heartbeat echoing in his ears.
Outside, the tarmac stretched under floodlights. Ground crew scurried. Flags of countries swung silently in the breeze. As the plane slowed to a halt, his thoughts drifted—slow and tangled.
"Last year… The Oval. One hundred nineteen not out. And still, nothing."
He didn't smile. He just exhaled.
Behind him, cricket teammates chattered, pumped fists, checked their bags. He stayed quiet.
🇮🇳 Scene 2: First Glimpse of Fanfare
At immigration, the signs read: WELCOME TO LONDON. In the terminal, a group of fans held scarves and phones, whispering his name.
Fan 1: "There he is — Ishaan Verma!"
He gave a small nod, not masking fatigue or relief—it was neither a statement nor an acknowledgment. Just presence.
Flashes went off as he passed the exit. Paparazzi had already dubbed him the "Face of Indian Cricket."
"Face of… Isn't there more behind eyes than a face can show?" he thought.
Outside, drizzle had turned to steady rain. Taxi windows steamed like muggy test match dressing rooms.
🌆 Scene 3: The Coach and The City
The team bus rolled through the night-shrouded streets of London. Red buses. Black cabs. Neon pubs. The river hid under clouds.
Eoin Morgan's face glowed on a bar's neon sign near Paddington.
Ishaan stared, then lowered his gaze.
He lay in bed that night, sleepless, cocooned from the city—but not from what lurked in his memory.
🕘 Scene 4: Morning in Notting Hill
The next morning, the sky was pale but clear. All four formats of balance: calm, cloud, chaos, clarity.
Some teammates went on city tours. Ishaan stepped out alone, hood up, walking through pastel houses, antique shops, and cafés.
He slipped into a quiet café—cream walls, wooden tables, toasters singing—and ordered Earl Grey.
As he stirred sugar, the door jangled and two women entered, chatting.
One of them laughed. A warm, soft sound that seemed familiar.
He looked up.
Emma Watson.
Black coat, auburn hair tied back, coffee in hand, bright eyes looking towards the menu.
She didn't see him. She didn't wave.
He stared for a moment longer than he should—and then looked away.
He picked up his phone, flipped through notifications:
"Verma arrives in London. Will he score or choke again?"
"Exclusive: 5 things England T20 bowlers must do to beat Verma."
He put the phone down.
"She doesn't know me. Not yet."
Emma sat nearby, reading. She looked up, caught his eyes—just for a second—and smiled softly.
He was frozen.
She turned back to her book.
Ishaan placed his mug down, stood, and walked out—without saying a word.
🏏 Scene 5: Dinner with Shadows
That evening, the team gathered at the hotel's dining hall. Mood brightened as they discussed strategies, pitches, powerplays. India would play the first T20I in Lord's—two days away.
Kohli approached Ishaan quietly.
Kohli: "You seen London yet?"
Ishaan: "A bit. No cricket. No quieter crowds."
Kohli: "It'll be louder soon. Just… stay inside yourself. The noise won't matter if you don't let it."
Ishaan nodded, but looked tired. Not physical; internal.
They exchanged no more words. Just a shared understanding.
🗣️ Scene 6: Media Storm Brewing
News outlets went to work.
The Guardian: "Verma returns to the crucible."
THE SUN: "Can this young man carry India's hopes again?"
ESPNcricinfo: "Player profile: Face of a new generation or hype without substance?"
Social Media:
"#VermaOrVanish," "#WillHeFinish," "#FaceOfIndia"
He scrolled through some of it. The negativity stung less than last time—but it still pricked.
He logged off.
🏆 Scene 7: First Training — Subtle Shadows
The morning nets at Lord's were open to a select press. The stadium echoed with drills.
Ishaan walked in, helmet on. He took guard in the middle on the famous slope.
Bowling machine whirred. Spin came, swing followed. Pace approached.
His technique held—shoulder alignment, bat balance, head still.
Cameras clicked.
"He looks sound," someone said.
He wasn't looking for approval.
He just breathed.
🎗️ Scene 8: Prologue to the First T20I
As the sun dipped behind the Pavilion, lordly shadows stretched.
Coach Shastri handed him a small card:
"Speak once you have something to say."
He didn't ask. He didn't reply.
Instead, he tucked it into his pocket.
🕯️ Final Scene: The Calm Before
That night, he walked near the Thames, quiet, staring at ripples and reflections.
No bat. No jersey. Just him and the city beneath the stars.
"England isn't an enemy. It's a mirror."
The tweet he posted later was short:
"Here to say something. Not just stand."
He hit send.
Ahead lay four short games. Four chances to find meaning.
And maybe reconnect with the face he couldn't forget.