The Delhi team arrived like a storm—matching kits, private coaches, and a swagger that filled the stadium before the first ball was bowled. Their captain, Rudra Malhotra, was a name whispered across academies. A national academy prospect. Aggressive. Charismatic. Ruthless.
Nikhil watched from the boundary as Rudra warmed up—reverse sweeps, no-look flicks, and a bat branded with his initials. Cameras followed him. Coaches nodded. Selectors scribbled.
Coach Rameshwar gathered the UP squad. "Delhi plays loud. You play smart. Don't chase their noise. Chase the game."
Viraj leaned over. "Rudra's a showman."
"I'm not here for the show," Nikhil replied.
UP won the toss and chose to bowl. Arjun opened with fire, but Delhi countered with flair. Rudra walked in at 28 for 1 and immediately took control—dancing down the pitch, lofting spinners, gesturing to the crowd.
By the 20th over, Delhi was 124 for 2. Rudra had 46 off 30 balls.
Nikhil was placed at deep cover. He watched Rudra closely—not just his shots, but his rhythm. There was arrogance, yes. But also precision.
Then came a moment.
Rudra tried to reverse sweep a leg-spinner. The ball popped up. Nikhil sprinted in, dived, and caught it.
The umpire paused, then raised his finger.
Rudra stared at Nikhil, then smirked. "Nice hands, Chandpur."
Delhi finished at 178 for 7.
During the break, Coach Rameshwar approached Nikhil. "You'll bat at four. Play your game. Not Rudra's."
Nikhil nodded. "I know who I am."
UP's chase began cautiously. Viraj gave a steady start, but wickets fell around him. By the 15th over, UP was 72 for 3. Nikhil walked in.
The Delhi fielders were loud. "Let's see if the quiet boy can talk with his bat."
First ball: dot.
Second ball: single.
Third ball: short. Nikhil ducked.
Fourth ball: full. He drove—two runs.
He didn't respond to the noise. He responded to the ball.
The pitch was slowing. The required rate climbed. Nikhil began rotating strike, guiding the younger batters, absorbing pressure. No big shots. Just control.
By the 25th over, he had 29 off 35 balls. Then came a moment of instinct.
A wide delivery. Nikhil stepped out—not for glory, but for space—and chipped it over midwicket. Three runs.
The crowd stirred.
Last five overs: 38 needed.
Nikhil shifted gears—sweep, paddle, punch. He didn't dominate. He orchestrated.
Last over: 9 runs needed.
First ball: single.
Second ball: dot.
Third ball: two runs.
Fourth ball: wide.
Fourth ball(again): four—cut behind point.
Second Last ball: one needed.
Nikhil tapped Veer, took guard, and glanced at the field.
The bowler ran in. Full and fast.
Nikhil leaned forward, nudged it past mid-on.
Victory.
He finished with 47 off 44 balls, unbeaten.
After the match, Rudra approached him near the pavilion.
"You play like a monk," he said.
"I play like myself," Nikhil replied.
Rudra nodded. "Respect."
That night, Nikhil sat in the hotel corridor, notebook open, match ball beside him.
"Lesson: Noise fades. Impact stays. Fix: Don't mimic. Master. Goal: Be the player who shapes outcomes. Reminder: Style is optional. Substance isn't."
He looked at empty hotel corridor.
Tomorrow, the tournament would continue.
But tonight, they have silenced Delhi.