The morning sun reflected off the glass façade of the NEXUS building in Hi-Tec City, Hyderabad.
Siddanth Deva stepped out of his car. He wasn't wearing his India jersey or his training kit. He was dressed in a charcoal grey polo shirt, dark jeans, and loafers. He looked like a young startup founder, which he was.
The guard snapped a salute so sharp it could have cut glass. "Good morning, Sir! Jai Hind!"
Deva smiled, returning the salute casually. "Good morning, Ramu kaka. Everything quiet?"
"Quiet?" the guard laughed, opening the gate. "Sir, since yesterday, people have been stopping outside just to take selfies with the building logo because they know you own it. You made us famous!"
Deva walked into the lobby. The air conditioning hit him, a cool relief from the Hyderabad heat.
The reaction inside was a muted version of the hotel lobby in Mumbai. The receptionists stood up. A group of developers near the elevator stopped talking. But NEXUS had a culture of discipline. They knew Deva didn't want a fanfare every time he walked in. They settled for wide grins and thumbs-ups.
Arjun was waiting by the elevator. He looked tired but electric, holding a tablet.
"Welcome back, Champion," Arjun said, punching Deva's arm. "You're late. The daily stand-up finished ten minutes ago."
"I was busy saving Indian cricket," Deva deadpanned, stepping into the elevator. "Cut me some slack."
"Excuses," Arjun grinned. "Come on. The 'War Room' is ready. The Alpha is live."
---
The 'War Room' was a soundproof glass cabin on the top floor. It was filled with high-end gaming rigs, server racks, and whiteboards covered in complex flowcharts.
Five lead developers sat nervously. They were the architects of 'Project Battlegrounds'.
"Okay," Deva said, sitting in the central gaming chair. He cracked his knuckles. "Show me what you have."
The Lead Developer, Karthik, loaded the build. "It's rough around the edges, Boss. The textures are low-resolution, and the map is currently only 4x4 km. But the core loop is there. Drop, loot, survive."
Deva put on the headset. The screen flickered to life.
He was in a plane. He pressed 'F' to jump.
As his character freefell, Deva's [Predator's Focus] kicked in subconsciously. He saw the render lag. He saw the texture pop-in on the trees.
He landed. He sprinted into a building.
"Movement is clunky," Deva muttered, his fingers flying over the keyboard. "I feel like I'm running in molasses. We need to increase the base sprint speed by 10%. And add a vaulting mechanic. If I see a fence, I should be able to jump over it, not walk around it."
He found a gun. An AKM.
He spotted a bot in the distance. He aimed. He fired.
The recoil sent his crosshair flying into the sky.
Deva paused the game. He turned to Karthik.
"Realism is good, Karthik. But this is too real. If the gun kicks like a mule, casual players will quit in five minutes. We need a pattern. A learnable recoil pattern. Make it hard, but predictable. Skill ceiling, not frustration ceiling."
He played for another twenty minutes. He drove a buggy (which flipped over twice due to physics bugs), he swam (too slow), and he sniped a target from 300 meters.
"The Blue Zone," Deva said, taking off the headset. "It moves too fast in the mid-game. Players need time to fight, not just run. Slow down the third circle. Force engagements, don't force marathons."
"Noted," Karthik said, typing furiously.
"And one more thing," Deva added, a mischievous glint in his eye. "Melee weapons. I want a frying pan."
The room went silent.
"A... frying pan, sir?"
"Yes. A cast-iron frying pan. And make it bulletproof. If someone shoots me in the butt and hits the pan, it should deflect the bullet with a loud CLANG sound."
Arjun burst out laughing. "That's ridiculous."
"It's iconic," Deva corrected. "Trust me. Do it."
---
They moved to the conference room for the product review of their existing apps.
First up was Vibe (the Instagram alternative). It had launched six months ago and was gaining traction in colleges.
"User growth is steady," the Product Manager reported. "But retention is flattening. People post a photo, get likes, and leave. There is no reason to stay on the app for long."
Deva leaned forward. He knew exactly what was missing. He knew the feature that would define social media for the next decade.
"Stories," Deva said.
"Stories?"
"Ephemeral content," Deva explained, sketching on the whiteboard. "Photos or videos that disappear after 24 hours. No likes. No pressure to be perfect. Just raw, unfiltered glimpses of daily life. 'I am eating a burger'. 'I am at the gym'. Put it at the top of the feed. Circles. Not squares."
Arjun looked at the sketch. "That changes the fundamental philosophy. Vibe is about aesthetic galleries."
"Aesthetics are boring," Deva countered. "People are narcissists. They want to show you their life in real-time without cluttering their profile. Give them Stories, and they will open the app ten times a day just to clear the notifications."
Next was Flash Messenger (the WhatsApp rival).
"It crashed last night," the Lead Engineer admitted sheepishly.
"I know," Deva smiled. "Good problem to have. But we need features. Two things. First: Voice Notes. Typing is hard when you're walking or driving. Let people record audio."
"And second?"
"Read receipts," Deva said. "Two ticks for delivered. And... turn them Blue when read."
"Blue?" Arjun asked. "Why?"
"Psychology," Deva tapped his temple. "If I know you read my message and didn't reply, I get anxious. I message again. Engagement goes up. It creates social pressure. It's toxic, but it's addictive. Build it."
The room looked at him with a mix of fear and admiration. They realized their boss wasn't just a cricketer; he was a behavioral scientist.
---
Finally, the CFO walked in with the financial report for 'Candy Crush Saga'.
Deva had insisted on developing this simple match-3 game eight months ago. Arjun had hated it. He called it "a game for moms."
The CFO placed a sheet of paper on the table.
Revenue (Last Month): $12 Million.
"It's viral," the CFO said, shaking his head in disbelief. "The 'freemium' model is working. People get stuck on Level 29, and they pay $0.99 for extra lives. We have users who have spent $500 on virtual candy."
Deva sat back, satisfied. "See? Moms play games too. And moms have credit cards."
"This funds everything," Arjun realized, staring at the sheet. "This funds PUBG. This funds the server expansion. Sid, you're a genius."
"I just know what people want," Deva shrugged. "They want distraction. Colorful, sweet distraction."
---
The meeting ended. Deva and Arjun walked into the CEO's cabin—a corner office overlooking the tech park. Arjun closed the blinds.
"Okay," Arjun said, sitting on his desk. "We have cash. A lot of cash. Where do we put it?"
Deva walked to the window. He looked at the horizon. He knew the future. He was aware of the trends that were emerging.
"Gaming is just starting, Arjun," Deva said. "We have the shooter (PUBG). We have the puzzle (Candy Crush). Now we need a strategy game. Something about building a village, training troops, and attacking others. Clans."
"Like Age of Empires?"
"Simpler. Mobile first. Touch controls. Let's call it... Clash of Clans." (Deva decided to keep the name; why fix what isn't broken?). "And an endless runner. A kid running on subway tracks, dodging trains. Subway Surfers."
Arjun took notes furiously. "Okay. Concepts noted. What about the stock market?"
Deva turned. "Nvidia."
"The graphics card company?" Arjun frowned. "They are niche. Gamers use them. That's it."
"Buy them," Deva said intensely. "Buy as much as we can without triggering a regulatory alarm. Every spare rupee goes into Nvidia."
"Why? Are you betting on PC gaming?"
"I'm betting on the brain," Deva said cryptically. "Chips are going to run the world, Arjun. Not just games. AI. Cars. Everything. NVIDIA is going to be the most valuable company on earth one day. Trust me."
Arjun looked at Deva. He had learned not to question Deva's "gut feeling".
"Fine. Nvidia. Long-term hold."
"And land," Deva added. "Shamshabad."
"You already have the farmhouse."
"I want more. The plots adjacent to the farm. The empty lands towards the airport road. Buy them all."
"Real estate play?"
"Expansion play," Deva corrected. "I told my parents I want animals. Horses. Cows. But bigger picture... I want to build a Sports City there one day. An academy. A stadium. A place where the next Deva is made. But for now... just secure the land."
Arjun nodded. "My assistant will handle it. The land prices there are still low. We can sweep it up."
Deva checked his watch. 6:00 PM.
"Business hours over," Deva declared. "Now, the real work begins."
"What work?"
"The party. Your house. Tonight."
---
Arjun's house in Jubilee Hills was a sprawling mansion. Tonight, the terrace wasn't hosting a high-society gala. It was hosting four boys who had grown up sharing a single bat.
Deva drove his Swift Dzire into the driveway. Sameer and Feroz were already there, waiting by the porch.
Sameer ran up to the car. "The King arrives! Do we bow? Do we touch your feet?"
Deva got out and put him in a headlock. "Shut up, idiot. Did you bring the biryani from Shadab?"
"Of course," Feroz grinned, holding up huge packets. "And the double ka meetha."
They walked inside. Arjun's parents, Mr. and Mrs. Reddy, were in the living room. They were elegant, soft-spoken people who had watched Deva grow from a scruffy kid into a national icon.
When they saw him, they stood up.
"Siddanth," Mrs. Reddy said, her eyes shining.
Deva walked over and touched their feet.
"Ayyo, don't do that," Mr. Reddy laughed, pulling him up. "You are a World Champion."
"I'm still the kid who broke your window with a cricket ball, Uncle," Deva smiled.
"You broke three windows," Mrs. Reddy corrected gently. "But we forgive you now. That century... it was beautiful, son. We were screaming so loud the neighbors called to check on us."
They chatted for a while—polite, warm conversation about his parents, the match, the exhaustion. Then, Mrs. Reddy shooed them away.
"Go upstairs. Have your fun. We will send the food up."
---
The terrace was lit by fairy lights. A cool breeze blew over the hills of Hyderabad. They sat on bean bags, beers in hand (Deva stuck to a protein shake, mindful of the IPL fitness test), looking out at the city lights.
"To the World Cup," Arjun toasted, raising his glass.
"To the World Cup," they echoed.
Then they asked Siddanth for the photos of the World Cup which he showed.
"So," Sameer leaned in, a wicked grin on his face. "Tell us the truth. The photo with the trophy in bed. Did you kiss it?"
Deva laughed. "It was cold metal, Sam. Not exactly romantic."
"Dhoni doing it was the best part," Feroz noted. "How did you convince Captain Cool to pose like a sleeping baby?"
"Blackmail," Deva winked. "I told him I wouldn't leave his room until he did it."
They talked about the match. Not the stats, but the moments. The fear when Sehwag got out. The silence when Sachin walked. The explosion when the six was hit.
"You know," Sameer said, looking at Deva. "When you did the Calma... I got goosebumps. But I also thought... 'If he gets out next ball, he is going to look like such an idiot'."
Deva chuckled. "That thought crossed my mind, too. But I knew Murali. I knew he was going to bowl the doosra."
"And the exams?" Arjun asked, changing the topic to reality. "Final year B.Com. Cost Accounting is waiting."
Deva groaned, throwing his head back. "Don't remind me. My mom already lectured me. I have to study on the flight to Chennai."
"Imagine sitting in the exam hall," Feroz laughed. "Invigilator asks for ID card. You show the World Cup medal."
"I'll probably fail," Deva sighed. "But at least I'll fail as a champion."
They sat in silence for a moment, the camaraderie washing over them. These were the friends who didn't care about his batting average. They cared about him.
"Sid," Arjun said quietly. "We are proud of you. Not just the cricket. But... everything. NEXUS. The farm. You're building an empire."
"We are building it, Arjun," Deva corrected. "I just hit the ball. You run the ship."
"We have come a long way from playing cricket for 10 rupees bet," Sameer mused.
"Long way to go," Deva said, looking at the stars. "IPL is next. Then the West Indies tour. Then the England Tour."
"Greedy," Feroz shook his head. "Enjoy the night."
"I am," Deva smiled.
"Okay," Deva stood up. "Music. Who has the playlist? I want to dance. And no Bhangra. I've done enough Bhangra for a lifetime."
"Tollywood it is," Sameer grinned, connecting his phone to the speakers.
As the beat of a mass number kicked in, the four friends started dancing on the terrace, under the Hyderabad sky, young, victorious, and infinite.