Date: October 14th, 2011.
Location: Rajiv Gandhi International Stadium, Uppal, Hyderabad.
Event: 1st ODI, India vs England.
Time: 1:30 PM.
The afternoon sun blazed down on the canopy of the Rajiv Gandhi International Stadium, turning the concrete bowl into a shimmering mirage of heat and noise. Hyderabad was hosting its favorite son, and the city had turned up in force.
The roads leading to Uppal were a sea of blue. Traffic had been snarled since 10 AM. Vendors were selling everything from national flags to face masks of Siddanth Deva. The air smelled of popcorn, sweat, and the distinct, dusty heat of the Deccan plateau.
Inside the stadium, the ground staff were giving the pitch a final roll. The DJ was blasting Tollywood mass beats, whipping the crowd into a frenzy hours before the first ball.
Siddanth Deva sat in the team bus as it snaked its way through the security cordon. He looked out the window. He saw a giant hoarding of himself holding the World Cup trophy.
"Home sweet home," Virat Kohli said from the seat behind him. "Though I think they love you more than Biryani now."
"Impossible," Deva laughed. "Biryani is religion. I'm just a prophet."
He checked his secret phone one last time before switching it off and locking it in his kit bag.
Me: The package is at Gate 1. Look for a guy in a grey suit. Name is Rahul. Don't be late.
Headache: I am never late for cricket. Just make sure your friend isn't a creep. See you at the match.
---
Outside Gate 1, the chaos was palpable. Fans were jostling for entry, waving tickets and screaming chants.
Standing calmly near the VIP entry lane was Rahul, the new Personal Assistant that Arjun had hired. He was young, sharp, dressed in a professional grey suit that looked entirely too warm for the weather, holding a large envelope. He checked his watch.
A purple Scooty Pep+ pulled up to the curb. Two girls hopped off, followed by another scooty with two more girls.
Krithika took off her helmet, shaking out her hair. She was wearing a Team India jersey (the official Nike one, not a knockoff) and jeans. She looked ready for war.
She scanned the crowd and spotted the grey suit. She walked up to him, confident as ever.
"Rahul?" she asked.
Rahul looked up. "Ms. Krithika?"
"That's me," she nodded. "And this is the entourage. My sister Anjali, and the useless twins, Riya and Kavya."
"Nice to meet you," Rahul smiled politely. "Siddarth asked me to give you these."
He handed over the envelope. Krithika opened it.
Four Passes. North Stand. Ground Level. Row A.
"Whoa," Riya whispered, looking at the tickets. "These are... these are the expensive ones."
"Siddarth came through," Krithika grinned. "Maybe he isn't such a useless friend after all."
"He also asked me to give you this," Rahul handed her a small lanyard. "All Access pass for the post-match zone. He said he might... run into you later."
Krithika's eyes went wide. "Post-match? Near the players?"
"Yes, Ma'am," Rahul said smoothly. "Enjoy the game."
Rahul walked away, disappearing into the stadium complex. Krithika looked at the passes, then at her friends.
"Okay," she declared, pulling a large, rolled-up chart paper from her bag. "We have the location. We have the passes. Now, we execute the plan."
"Are you sure about the sign, Krithi?" her sister Anjali asked nervously. "It's national TV."
"That's the point," Krithika said, unfurling the chart paper slightly. Bold neon letters peeked out. "Let's go find the Devil."
---
Inside the stadium, the atmosphere was electric. The Indian team trotted out for their warm-ups. They were wearing their training kits—dark blue shorts and light blue jerseys.
The crowd erupted. "DE-VA! DE-VA! DHO-NI! DHO-NI!"
Deva jogged a lap with Kohli and Raina. He stretched his hamstrings near the boundary rope. He scanned the North Stand.
It was the stand right next to the Indian dugout. The seats were so close to the ground that a fielder at long-on could practically shake hands with the front row.
He saw them.
Four girls finding their seats in the front row. He recognized her easily. She was arguing with her sister about her chart paper.
He saw her sit down. He saw her looking for him.
"Sid!" Fielding Coach Trevor Penney shouted, hitting high catches. "Focus!"
Deva snapped his attention back to the ball. He ran, judged the high ball perfectly, and took it reverse-cup.
In the stands, Krithika grabbed Anjali's arm. "That's him! That's Deva! He's right there!"
She stood up, waving her arms frantically. "DEVA! DEVA! LOOK HERE!"
Riya and Kavya joined in, cupping their mouths. "DEVA!"
Deva heard them. His [Predator's Focus] could pick out a single voice in a riot. He knew exactly where she was. He knew she was waving.
But the Devil had a plan.
He didn't turn. He didn't smile. He threw the ball back to Penney and jogged towards Kohli, keeping his back strictly turned to the North Stand.
"He didn't see us," Krithika frowned, sitting back down. "He's too focused."
"He's right there, Krithi," Riya laughed. "He's looking everywhere except here. Maybe your voice isn't loud enough."
"Shut up," she snapped. "Just wait. He'll look."
---
The warm-up concluded. The teams walked back towards the dressing rooms to change into match jerseys.
As Deva walked up the stairs of the pavilion, he had to pass right by the North Stand enclosure. He was ten feet away from them.
"This is it," Krithika said, jumping up. She unfurled the chart paper slightly. "DEVA! HYDERABAD LOVES YOU!"
The scream was piercing. Even Dhoni looked up and waved.
Deva kept his head straight. He adjusted his sunglasses. He looked at the tunnel. He looked at the sky. He looked at his shoes.
He walked right past them without breaking stride. Not a nod. Not a glance. Stone cold.
Krithika stood there, her hand frozen mid-wave.
"Ouch," Kavya winced. "That was... cold."
"He didn't even look," Anjali whispered. "He looked right through you."
"That sign was a waste of money," Riya laughed, poking the rolled-up paper. "500 rupees for neon paint, and he treats you like a pillar. Siddarth has better connections than you, Krithi. At least he got us the tickets. Deva doesn't even know we exist."
Krithika rolled up the sign, her face burning. "He's just... in the zone. It's a big match. Stop laughing!"
Inside the dressing room, Deva sat down at his locker. He peeled off his training jersey. A wicked grin spread across his face.
"You okay, Sid?" MS Dhoni asked. "You ignored a very loud group of fans back there. Usually, you wave."
"Focus, Skipper," Deva lied effortlessly, pulling on the official India jersey with DEVA 6 on the back. "Laser focus."
Let her sweat, Deva thought. Let her think the Devil is untouchable.
---
The Toss:
MS Dhoni flipped the coin. Alastair Cook called Tails.
It was Heads.
Dhoni: "We will bat first. It's a flat track, good for batting. We want to put pressure on them."
Openers: Parthiv Patel and Ajinkya Rahane.
Bowler: Tim Bresnan.
The innings began with a stutter. Bresnan found movement in the air early on.
Over 3: Bresnan to Parthiv Patel
Parthiv looked to slash a wide delivery. The ball swung away late.
Edge. Caught at second slip by Swann.
Commentary (Sunil Gavaskar): "Poor shot! No need for that so early in the innings. Bresnan invites the drive and Parthiv falls for the trap. India lose their first wicket cheaply!"
WICKET (Parthiv 4).
Score: 12/1.
Virat Kohli walked out at No. 3 (1 down). He looked focused. He punched his first ball through covers for four.
But the tremors weren't over.
Over 8: Steven Finn to Rahane
Rahane tried to pull a short ball. It got big on him. The extra bounce of Finn surprised him.
Top edge. The ball ballooned to mid-on.
Commentary (Ravi Shastri): "And another one bites the dust! The extra bounce does the trick! Rahane was in no position to play that pull shot. A simple catch for Cook. India are wobbling here at home!"
WICKET (Rahane 15).
Score: 40/2.
Overs: 7.4.
The crowd went silent. Two wickets down inside the Powerplay. The England bowlers were pumped.
Enter The Devil.
Siddanth Deva walked out at No. 4. The roar was deafening.
In the stands, Krithika jumped up again. "Okay, now he plays. Now he sees us."
Deva met Kohli in the middle. He took guard. He looked around the field. He looked at Fine Leg. He looked at Third Man. He didn't look at the North Stand.
Deva took guard.
Over 8: First ball. Bouncer.
Deva pulled it to deep square leg. 1 Run.
For the next 20 overs, Kohli and Deva put on a masterclass in accumulation. They didn't take risks. They ran hard. They punished the bad balls.
Over 15 (Graeme Swann):
Deva stepped out. He drove Swann inside-out over cover.
Commentary (Laxman Sivaramakrishnan): "Inside out! That is the shot of the day! Against the spin, over the infield. Deva is looking ominous now!"
FOUR.
The crowd cheered.
It was the 22nd Over. Deva was on 46.
He smashed Samit Patel for a boundary. 50.
The Celebration:
Deva took off his helmet. He raised his bat to the dressing room. He raised his bat to the East Stand. He raised his bat to the West Stand.
In the North Stand, Krithika held up the sign.
MARRY ME DEVA.
It was huge. It was neon. It was impossible to miss.
"LOOK HERE!" she screamed.
Deva turned towards the North Stand.
He looked.
He adjusted his gloves.
He turned his back and marked his guard again.
"Oh my god," Kavya buried her face in her hands. "He literally turned his back on you. That is brutal."
"Maybe he can't read?" Anjali suggested helpfully.
Krithika lowered the sign slowly. She looked furious. "He saw it. I know he saw it. He is doing this on purpose. Arrogant... just like Siddarth said."
With the fifty done, Deva changed gears. Kohli got out for 65. Raina came in.
Deva unleashed the beast.
With the fifty done, the shackles were off. Deva, who had been playing the anchor, suddenly remembered he was the Devil.
Over 25: Samit Patel to Deva
Deva was on 54. Patel tossed it up.
Deva danced down. He didn't look to hit it hard; he looked to place it.
He whipped it against the spin, bisecting long-on and deep mid-wicket.
FOUR.
Commentary (Gavaskar): "Placement! He has found the gap like a surgeon. He is moving through the gears now."
The partnership with Kohli flourished. They ran the English fielders ragged, turning ones into twos. The humidity was sapping the bowlers, but Deva and Kohli, the fitness freaks of the team, were just getting started.
Over 29: Graeme Swann to Deva
Deva on 68. Swann tried to fire it in flat to cramp him.
Deva went back in his crease. He waited.
He cut it late, almost taking the ball off the stumps.
It raced past backward point.
FOUR.
The crowd was rhythmic now. De-va! De-va!
But then, against the run of play, the partnership broke.
Over 34:Virat Kohli tried to clear long-on off Swann. He didn't get the elevation. Caught by Bresnan on the boundary.
WICKET (Kohli 65).
Score: 160/3.
Suresh Raina walked in. The left-hander joined Deva.
"Keep going," Deva told Raina. "I'm seeing it like a football."
Deva moved into the 80s with a series of brutal pull shots off Tim Bresnan.
Over 38: Jade Dernbach
Deva was on 82.
Dernbach tried his back-of-the-hand slower ball.
Deva spotted it early.
He waited. He adjusted his grip.
He lofted it over the bowler's head. One bounce into the sight screen.
FOUR.
(Deva 86).
Next ball. Full toss.
Deva flicked it. The wrists of Hyderabad.
It flew over square leg.
SIX.
(Deva 92).
He was in the nineties. The nervous nineties? Not for Deva.
Over 39: Steven Finn
Deva on 92.
Finn bowled short.
Deva swiveled. A controlled pull to deep square leg.
2 Runs.
(Deva 94).
Finn went full, searching for the yorker.
Deva cleared his front leg. He drilled it through extra cover.
FOUR.
(Deva 98).
He was on 98. The crowd was on its feet. Krithika was standing, holding her breath, her sign forgotten on the floor.
Next ball. Short.
Deva pulled. Went of to the North Stand.
The ball landed ten feet away from Krithika.
SIX.
HUNDRED FOR SIDDANTH DEVA.
The crowd went berserk. Krithika forgot her anger. She was jumping, screaming, grabbing the ball that bounced near her.
"I TOUCHED IT! I TOUCHED THE BALL!"
Deva removed his helmet and raised his bat.
He looked at the crowd. He scanned the North Stand.
He saw the sign again.
He looked blankly at it, as if it were a blank wall, and put his helmet back on.
"Okay," Krithika sat down, deflated but happy. "He hates me. But he scored a hundred. I'll take it."
Deva wasn't done. 100 was just a milestone. 150 was the target. But Raina wasn't just watching; he was hitting too.
Raina smashed a quickfire 45 runs off 28 balls, hitting two sixes and four boundaries.
Over 46: Raina tried to clear long-off against Dernbach. He mistimed it. Caught on the boundary.
WICKET (Raina 45).
Score: 245/4.
Overs: 45.4.
The Captain walked out with 26 balls remaining. Deva was on 130.
"Finish it, Sid," Dhoni said. "I'll give you strike."
But Dhoni did more than give strike. He smashed a six off his second ball.
Over 47: Tim Bresnan.
Deva went berserk.
46.1: SIX over covers.
46.2: FOUR to third man.
46.3: SIX over long-on.
Deva moved to 146.
Over 48: Dernbach.
Deva took a single. Dhoni hit a four.
Deva hit a SIX. 153.
150 FOR SIDDANTH DEVA.
Over 50: Steven Finn
Deva was on 168. Dhoni on 30.
49.1: Deva hit a flat six over point.
Commentary (Gavaskar): "Flat! Hard! Six! He just slapped that over the ropes!"
49.2: Deva hit a straight drive for four.
Commentary (Gavaskar): "And now the grace! Straight down the ground. Four more."
49.3: Deva tried to scoop but got hit on the body. Leg bye (1).
49.4: Dhoni on strike. Helicopter shot. FOUR.
49.5: Dhoni takes single.
49.6: Deva faces the last ball. He shuffles across. Scoop shot. FOUR.
Final Score:
India: 358/4 (50 Overs).
Siddanth Deva: 179* (110 balls) - 18 Fours, 9 Sixes.
Virat Kohli: 65.
Suresh Raina: 45.
MS Dhoni: 35* (13 balls).
Extras: 15.
The players walked off. The English bowlers looked shell-shocked.
Deva walked off, bat raised. He walked past the North Stand.
Krithika leaned over the railing, waving the sign one last time, desperate.
"DEVA!"
Deva didn't stop. He didn't look. He walked into the tunnel, his face a mask of professional detachment.
But inside the tunnel, out of sight of the cameras and the crowd, Deva leaned against the wall and laughed. He laughed until his sides hurt.
She looked so mad, he thought. Wait till she finds out.
He checked his secret phone.
Headache:I hate him. I love him, but I hate him. He is blind. He is arrogant. And he just scored 179 runs. I am confused. Meet me at the post-match area. I need to yell at someone, and since I can't yell at him, I'll yell at you.
Deva grinned.
Me:I'm in the queue. See you there.
The game was won. But the real match was just beginning.