March 26, 2015Sydney Cricket Ground.
The stadium roared as Steve Smith raised his bat, calm and unshakable. Australia had posted a daunting 328 for 7. a tough target to chase. Aaron Finch had quietly held his ground, scoring a gritty 81. He wasn't flashy that day, but steady, wearing down India's bowlers and giving Smith the perfect platform to shine.
In India, thought the total looked daunting the hopes were still alive because it had openers like Shikhar Dhawan, Rohit Sharma. Chase master Virat Kohli and finisher like MS Dhoni who brought India home in the last world cup
Back in Hyderabad, in a cramped hostel room, 20-year-old Aarav Reddy sat glued to the TV. Around him, his friends' faces were tense, eyes fixed on every ball. At first, hope flickered as Rohit Sharma and Shikhar Dhawan got things going with some quick runs.
But then things started to fall apart.
Dhawan was out for 45, and a hush fell over the room. Then, shock—Virat Kohli, the guy everyone expected to carry the chase, was caught behind for just one run.
A heavy silence settled over Aarav and his friends as they felt like their hopes were getting crused
Wickets kept tumbling. Ajinkya Rahane tried to keep things steady with a solid 44, but the pressure was crushing. When Suresh Raina went, the mood in the room darkened even more, but they held on to hope because the finisher MS Dhoni was still on the crease.
And then came the moment nobody wanted to see.
MS Dhoni—India's calm captain and finisher—was run out for 65. A perfect throw from Glenn Maxwell sealed the deal. India's dream of another World Cup was gone.
His friends erupted in frustration—some shouted, others just sat with their heads in their hands. But Aarav? He stayed quiet. Furious, but silent.
This wasn't just a game lost.
A fierce fire burned inside him—a passion for cricket inherited from childhood, fueled by memories of Sourav Ganguly's aggressive captaincy and unyielding spirit. But tonight, that fire was mixed with frustration. India had lacked the cutting edge, especially in bowling. No one could claim Smith's wicket early, and that failure gnawed at Aarav's mind.
The days after the match, the college campus buzzed with talk of cricket's collapse. Aarav found himself drawn into heated conversations in the mess hall and corridors.
One evening, sitting with friends over chai, the subject came up again.
"They should've had a bowler like Zaheer Khan," said Raghav, slumping back in his chair. "Remember his spell in the 2011 World Cup final? He could've made Smith nervous early on."
Aarav shook his head, eyes narrowed. "It's not just Zaheer. We don't have any bowler who can consistently strike fear. Look at Smith—he bats like he owns the crease. If you don't get him early, it's over."
Raghav chuckled and nudged him. "Well then, why don't you take a shot? You've got the fitness. Maybe you're the fast bowler we're missing."
Aarav blinked, surprised by the suggestion. He laughed it off. "Me? Come on. I'm just an engineering student. I don't even know how to hold a cricket ball properly."
Raghav grinned. "Doesn't mean you can't learn. All the greats started somewhere."
The table fell silent for a moment. Aarav's mind drifted to the cracked nets at the edge of campus, the old bat gathering dust in his room. The idea, once dismissed, began to settle like a seed in fertile soil.
That night, lying awake in his room, Aarav's thoughts refused to quiet.
Could I really do it?Could I be the one who takes wickets when it matters?Maybe I'm too late… but what if I'm not?
The fire inside him was no longer just frustration. It was a challenge.
And for the first time in weeks, Aarav felt something new—a fierce determination to try.