The date was June 21, 2009. The Summer Solstice. The longest day of the year.
Lord's Cricket Ground was not just a stadium today; it was a cauldron of history, politics, and raw, unbridled emotion. The sky was a piercing blue, the sun bathing the hallowed turf in a golden glow that seemed almost divine. The stands were a sea of vibrant color—the deep ocean blue of India clashing against the forest green of Pakistan.
Flags waved in a frenzy that blurred the vision. The noise was a physical wall, a constant, thrumming roar that vibrated through the soles of the players' boots.
Up in the commentary box, the glass windows were shaking.
"Good afternoon, world!" Ravi Shastri's voice, deep and resonant, cut through the static of a billion television sets. "It does not get bigger than this. It does not get louder than this. The ICC World T20 Final. India versus Pakistan. Lord's. The history books are open, the pen is poised, and two nations hold their breath."
"Absolutely, Ravi," Nasser Hussain joined in, his voice tight with the tension of the occasion. "You can feel the electricity. It's heavy. It's oppressive. This isn't just a game of cricket; it's a statement. The Defending Champions against the Cornered Tigers."
"And let's not forget the backdrop," Ramiz Raja added, his tone somber yet hopeful. "The emotions are raw. But today, cricket must do the talking. Younis Khan against MS Dhoni. Let the battle begin."
---
The two teams walked out, lining up on the red carpet. The noise dipped, replaced by a respectful, heavy silence.
First, the national anthem of Pakistan. Pak Sarzamin Shad Bad. The green jerseys stood tall, hands on hearts, eyes closed.
Then, India.
Jana Gana Mana...
Siddanth Deva stood between Yuvraj Singh and Rohit Sharma. As the first notes played, he looked up at the Indian tricolor fluttering atop the Lord's pavilion. He thought of the Taj Hotel. He thought of the smoke in Mumbai. He thought of the helplessness he had felt in that hotel room in Jaipur.
His chest swelled. He didn't sing; he vowed.
Beside him, Dhoni's face was stone.
When the anthem ended, the roar that erupted could have been heard in Delhi.
---
MS Dhoni and Younis Khan stood in the middle.
Younis flipped the coin.
"Tails," Dhoni called.
Heads.
"We will bowl first," Younis Khan said, a confident smile on his face. "The wicket has some moisture. We have Umar Gul, we have Amir. We want to put them under pressure early."
Dhoni shrugged. "We would have batted. It's a final. Runs on the board. We are ready."
The teams dispersed. The Indian team returned to the dressing room, except for the openers.
Gautam Gambhir and Rohit Sharma walked out.
---
First Over
Mohammad Amir, the teenage prodigy, took the new ball. He was fast, he was swing, he was dangerous.
Ball 1: 145kph. Swing and a miss from Rohit.
Ball 2: Single to third man.
Ball 3: Gautam Gambhir on strike.
Amir ran in. He bowled a perfect, late-swinging yorker.
Gambhir, feet stuck in the crease, tried to dig it out. He was late.
The ball crashed into the base of the off-stump.
WICKET 1: G. Gambhir b. Amir 0 (1).
The Pakistani section of the crowd exploded. Green flags waved frantically.
India: 1 for 1 (0.3 Overs).
In the dugout, Siddanth Deva stood up.
He didn't look at the field. He closed his eyes.
He accessed the System.
[INVENTORY]
[ITEM SELECTED: "100% FORM CARD"]
[DESCRIPTION: Grants the Host absolute "In The Zone" status. Reflexes, Timing, Power, and Decision Making boosted to S++ Rank. Duration: 1 Match.]
[ACTIVATE?]
"Yes," Siddanth whispered.
[ACTIVATING...]
[SYNC RATE: 100%]
[ZONE ENTERED.]
His eyes snapped open.
The world looked different. The colors were sharper. The noise of the crowd faded into a distant, rhythmic hum. He could see the stitching on the gloves of the player next to him. He could feel the grain of his bat handle like it was an extension of his own nerves.
The fear? Gone. The pressure? Gone.
There was only the ball. And the boundary.
He walked out. The Number 6 jersey.
The Indian crowd roared, desperate for a savior.
He marked his guard. He looked at Mohammad Amir.
To the normal eye, Amir was a terrifying fast bowler. To Siddanth, in this state, Amir looked like he was moving in slow motion.
---
Over 1 (Amir continues)
Ball 4: Siddanth on strike. First ball.
Amir, tails up, bowled a bouncer. 148kph.
Siddanth didn't sway. He didn't hook.
He stepped inside the line and, with a vertical bat, punched it off the back foot.
The timing was supernatural. The ball flew over the keeper's head, flat and hard.
It hit the sightscreen.
SIX.
"WHAT A START!" Shastri roared. "First ball! He has punched a bouncer for six! That is arrogance! That is class!"
Ball 5: Amir, rattled, overpitched.
Siddanth leaned forward. A classic cover drive.
But he hit it so hard the fielder at cover didn't even move.
FOUR.
Ball 6: Amir went for the yorker.
Siddanth's bat came down like a guillotine. He opened the face at the last millisecond. The ball raced past the gully.
FOUR.
Siddanth: 14 off 3 balls.
Over 2 (Sohail Tanvir)
Ball 1: Rohit takes a single.
Ball 2: Siddanth on strike. Tanvir bowls his wrong-footed inswinger.
Siddanth steps out. He turns it into a full toss. He flicks it over deep mid-wicket.
The sound off the bat was like a gunshot.
SIX.
Ball 3: Tanvir goes wide.
Siddanth switches his stance. Left-Handed.
He slaps it over cover.
SIX.
"OH MY GOODNESS!" David Lloyd screamed. "He's turned left-handed! In a World Cup Final! And he's hit it for six! This is not cricket, this is sorcery!"
Ball 4: Tanvir panics. Short ball.
Siddanth pulls. It lands on the roof of the Tavern Stand.
SIX.
Ball 5: Full toss.
Siddanth drives straight.
FOUR.
Ball 6: Yorker.
Siddanth scoops it over fine leg.
SIX.
29 runs off the over.
Siddanth was on 42 off 8 balls.
Over 3 (Umar Gul)
Gul, the reverse-swing king.
Ball 1: Rohit takes a single.
Ball 2: Siddanth on strike.
Gul bowls a length ball.
Siddanth lofts it over extra cover. One bounce.
FOUR.
Ball 3: Gul bowls straight.
Siddanth flicks it over square leg.
SIX.
FIFTY.
52 runs off 11 balls.
The fastest fifty in the history of international cricket. Yuvraj Singh's record of 12 balls was broken.
The stadium was in shock. The noise was deafening, a continuous, rolling thunder.
In the Indian dugout, Yuvraj Singh had fallen off his chair. He was sitting on the ground, laughing hysterically, slapping his thighs.
Harbhajan Singh was holding his head.
MS Dhoni, usually stone-faced, was standing up, clapping, a wide, disbelief-filled grin on his face.
---
In a crowded bar in Mumbai, strangers were hugging. A waiter dropped a tray of drinks, and nobody cared. They were chanting, "DE-VA! DE-VA!"
In Hyderabad, at the community hall, Vikram Deva was standing on his chair. "DID YOU SEE THAT? DID YOU SEE THAT SWITCH HIT? THAT IS MY BLOOD!"
Arjun was live-blogging on his laptop, his fingers flying. "HE IS A GOD! HE IS A CHEAT CODE!"
---
Rohit Sharma realized he was watching history. He simply took singles, giving the strike to the hurricane.
Siddanth didn't stop. The 100% Form Card meant he couldn't miss. Every ball looked like a football. Every gap looked like a highway.
He hit Shahid Afridi for three consecutive sixes in the 6th over—one over long-off, one over deep mid-wicket, and one that went out of the ground over deep square leg.
Over 9: Saeed Ajmal.
Ball 1: Rohit single.
Ball 2: Siddanth on strike. He was on 94.
Ajmal bowled the doosra.
Siddanth picked it from the hand. He stepped out. He didn't look to hit it hard. He just lofted it with pure timing straight back over the bowler's head.
It sailed into the Media Center.
SIX.
CENTURY.
100 runs off 31 balls.
The stadium erupted. The noise was physical.
Siddanth stopped.
He took off his helmet. He took off his gloves.
He placed them on the pitch.
He stood tall. He looked towards the Indian flag fluttering high above the Pavilion.
He snapped a sharp, military-style salute.
For Mumbai. For the fallen. For the country.
"Look at that!" Sunil Gavaskar's voice broke with emotion. "A century in 31 balls! In a World Cup Final! And look at the salute! That is for every Indian watching! That is for the pride of the nation! We are witnessing the greatest innings ever played!"
In the studio, Kapil Dev had tears in his eyes. "I have seen Viv Richards. I have seen Sachin. But this... this is something else. This boy is not playing cricket. He is painting a masterpiece with fire."
---
Siddanth put his helmet back on. He wasn't done.
The score was 135 for 1 in 9.2 overs.
He had scored 100 of them.
---
Rohit Sharma finally got out, trying to keep up with the rate. He holed out to long-off.
WICKET 2: R. Sharma c. Malik b. Afridi 32 (17 balls).
Yuvraj Singh walked in.
"Just give me the strike, Yuvi-paji," Siddanth said. His eyes were burning with a cold, blue intensity.
Siddanth went into Overdrive.
He hit Umar Gul for four consecutive boundaries—a reverse sweep, a ramp, a cover drive, and a pull.
He hit Yasir Arafat for a six that landed on the roof of the Mound Stand.
He reached 150 in 45 balls.
The Pakistani players looked broken. Younis Khan was changing fields every ball, but it didn't matter. Siddanth was hitting the ball where the fielders weren't.
If fine-leg was back, he hit over cover. If cover was back, he scooped.
Over 15: Mohammad Amir returns.
Siddanth was on 170.
Ball 1: 145kph Yorker.
Siddanth played the Helicopter Shot.
The wrists snapped. The bat blurred.
The ball flew over mid-wicket. SIX.
"He's borrowed that from the Captain!" Shastri yelled. "The Helicopter has taken off at Lord's! This is humiliating for the bowlers!"
Ball 2: Bouncer.
Siddanth uppercut it over third man. SIX.
Ball 3: Wide yorker.
Siddanth sliced it. FOUR.
He moved to 186.
Two runs needed for the highest T20 score ever (imagined).
Ball 4: He drove to long-off. They ran two.
188.
He was finally out.
He tried to hit Amir out of London. He got a top edge. The ball went so high it almost brought rain down.
Shoaib Malik waited at long-on. He took the catch.
Siddanth Deva: 188 (58 balls).
22 Sixes. 10 Fours.
Strike Rate: 324.1.
The entire stadium—Indian fans, English neutrals, and even the Pakistani fans—rose as one. It was a standing ovation that lasted for three minutes. The Pakistani players ran to him to shake his hand. Younis Khan patted his back.
Siddanth walked off, raising his bat to all corners. He looked at the dugout.
Dhoni was waiting at the boundary rope. He hugged him and patted him on the back.
---
India: 240 for 2 in 16 overs.
Yuvraj Singh and MS Dhoni were at the crease.
The platform was laid for a total never seen before.
Yuvraj Singh went berserk. He smashed three sixes in the 19th over.
Yuvraj Singh: 41 (20 balls).
MS Dhoni finished the 20th over with a flurry of boundaries.
MS Dhoni: 40 (22 balls).
The innings ended.
India finished on 305 for 3.
The first-ever 300+ score in a T20 International.
Total: 305/3.
---
The Mid-Innings Show
The camera cut to the commentary box. Ravi Shastri was standing, looking down at the pitch, shaking his head.
Beside him, Nasser Hussain looked shell-shocked.
Hussain: "I... I don't have words, Ravi. I have played this game all my life. I have watched Lara, Tendulkar, Ponting. I have never seen anything like that. 188 runs in a T20? It's a video game score. It's absurd."
Shastri looked into the camera. His face was deadly serious.
"We call Sachin the God of Cricket. We call Dravid the Wall. But today... today we saw something else."
Shastri paused for effect.
"He was ruthless. He was destructive. He had no mercy. He looked at the history, he looked at the opposition, and he laughed."
Shastri leaned in, delivering the line that would be printed on t-shirts the next day.
"Ladies and gentlemen, Siddanth Deva is not just a player. Today, he was The Devil of Cricket. He tormented them. He tortured them. And he did it with a smile. 305 runs. Pakistan needs a miracle, but I think the Devil has already stolen their souls."
Studio Reaction:
Sidhu: "OHO! Ravi is right! The Devil! The Asura! He came, he saw, he obliterated! The Pakistan bowling attack is not an attack anymore; it is a crime scene! The police should be called! Siddanth Deva has committed a butchery in broad daylight at Lord's!"
Kapil Dev: "The technique... did you see the switch hits? He changed his grip before the bowler released. That is not just power; that is a computer brain working at light speed."
The Indian Dugout
Inside the dressing room, Siddanth sat on the chair. He was soaked in sweat, his chest heaving.
The team was going wild around him. Yuvraj was dancing. Harbhajan was hugging everyone.
But Rohith Sharma sat next to Siddanth, just staring at him.
"You're an alien," Rohit whispered. "Check your blood. It's probably green or blue."
Siddanth laughed, pouring a bottle of water over his head. "Just felt good today, Yar. Just felt good."
"Good?" Yuvraj shouted from the massage table. "You scored 188! You almost scored a double hundred in a T20! You're going to be banned for bullying!"
Dhoni walked in. He looked at the scoreboard: 305/3.
He looked at Siddanth.
"Sid," Dhoni said.
"Yeah, Skipper?"
"You're fielding at slip. I don't want you running for at least 10 overs. Save your legs."
"I'm fine, Mahi-bhai. I can bowl."
"No," Dhoni smiled. "You've done enough damage for one day. Let the others have some fun."
Siddanth leaned back. 305 runs.
The 2007 ghosts were buried. The 26/11 anger had been answered, not with violence, but with excellence.
He looked at his hands. They were trembling slightly from the adrenaline.