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Perspective: The Match (Third Person)
The 17th Over:
Sanju Samson looked at his options. 40 needed off 24. It was crunch time. He tossed the ball to his most experienced pacer, Trent Boult. The Kiwi left-armer had started well, taking Gill's wicket early. He was the man for the crisis.
Aarav Pathak stood at the crease. He wasn't marking his guard anymore; he was just standing there, bat resting on his shoulder, chewing his gum. The "Viv Richards Aura" was almost visible, a shimmering heat haze of confidence.
Ball 1: Boult started with a wide yorker, trying to keep it away from Aarav's hitting arc. Aarav reached for it but decided not to risk the slice. He let it go to the keeper. Dot Ball.
Sanju Samson clapped. "One down! Five more like that, Trent!" The crowd groaned. 40 off 23.
Ball 2: Boult tried to execute the same delivery—wide and full. But this time, Aarav moved. He didn't just step out; he dragged his back foot across, planted his front leg, and went down on one knee. It was a shot usually played against spinners. The Slog Sweep. Against 140 kmph pace. He fetched the ball from outside off and swatted it. BOOM. The ball flew flat and hard over the deep mid-wicket boundary. It hit the advertising boards with a thud. SIX!
Ravi Shastri: "He has fetched that from the 6th stump line! A slog sweep against Trent Boult? That is dismissive! That is angry! He is not just hitting the ball; he is hurting it!"
Ball 3: Boult, rattled, decided to follow the batsman. He saw Aarav shuffling across again. But Aarav was playing 4D chess. As Boult released the ball aiming for the legs, Aarav suddenly changed direction. He stepped way outside the off-stump—almost near the wide line. He bent his knees, getting low, almost squatting. He used the pace of the ball, opened the face of the bat, and scooped-sliced it over the short third man fielder. The timing was so perfect that it didn't just go for four; it sailed all the way into the stands behind third man. SIX!
Ian Bishop: "What genius is this?! He went to the ball, bent down like he was picking up a coin, and ramped it over third man! Trent Boult has no idea where to bowl! The field is irrelevant!"
Ball 4: The equation was melting away. 28 off 21. Boult went for the safe option—a length ball on middle and leg, cramping the batter. Aarav stood tall. He didn't move his feet. He just used those magical wrists. He flicked it. It looked like a gentle shot, but the ball rocketed off the bat. It soared high over deep square leg, landing in the second tier. SIX!
Kevin Pietersen: "Three in a row! This is carnage! He is flicking sixes for fun now! Trent Boult is a world-class bowler, and he is being treated like a club cricketer! Aarav Pathak is in a mood tonight!"
Ball 5: Boult, face pale, tried a bouncer. It didn't rise enough. Aarav waited on the back foot and swatted it—a tennis forehand smash—past the bowler. Mid-off was up in the circle. It raced away. FOUR.
Ball 6: The crowd was delirious. Aarav had scored 22 runs in 4 balls. Boult bowled a slower ball, wide outside off. Aarav pushed it gently to deep cover. He jogged a single. He didn't even look at the bowler. 1 run.
End of Over 17.Runs: 23. Score: 187/5. Equation: 17 runs needed from 18 balls.
Perspective: The Fans (Stand D)
The scene in Stand D was absolute pandemonium. Raju had lost his blue wig. Jignesh was crying happy tears. Vikram was just standing there, shaking his head in disbelief.
"23 runs!" Raju screamed, his voice cracking. "He killed him! He killed Boult! Did you see that scoop? Who does that?"
"He's not human," Jignesh sobbed, wiping his face with his flag. "I was scared 5 minutes ago. Now I feel sorry for Rajasthan."
"17 off 18," Vikram said, smiling calmly. "It's over. We are going to Ahmedabad. The Prince has booked the tickets."
Perspective: The Commentary Box
Ravi Shastri: "This is one of the greatest overs I have seen in a chase! Trent Boult has gone for 23 runs! Aarav Pathak has turned this game on its head in the span of five minutes! 40 needed is now 17 needed. The Rajasthan Royals look deflated. Shoulders have dropped."
Sunil Gavaskar: "It is the range of shots, Ravi. Mid-wicket, third man, square leg, straight. Where do you set a field for a man who hits 360 degrees against pace? This is batting of the highest caliber."
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Batsmen: Aarav Pathak (98*) & Rahul Tewatia (19*) Bowler: Prasidh Krishna (Over 18) Commentators: Ravi Shastri, Ian Bishop, Harsha Bhogle, Sunil Gavaskar
Perspective: The Match (Third Person)
The 18th Over: The Coronation
The Eden Gardens was vibrating. The noise wasn't a roar anymore; it was a constant, deafening frequency that shook the camera lenses.
Sanju Samson handed the ball to Prasidh Krishna. The tall pacer looked nervous. He had been taken for 20 runs in his previous over by Aarav. Now, he had to defend 17 runs against a man batting on 98, who looked like he was in a video game with cheat codes enabled.
Aarav Pathak stood at the striker's end. He adjusted his gloves. He tapped the bat on the crease. The gum chewing continued—rhythmic, relentless.
Ball 1: The Century Shot Prasidh Krishna ran in hard, trying to bowl a heavy length ball to hit the splice of the bat. But Aarav was expecting it. He cleared his front leg, creating room. He didn't just hit it; he dismissed it. A flat-batted tennis slap down the ground. The sound was like a cannon shot. The ball rocketed over the sight screen, clearing the media box, clearing the roof, and disappearing into the Kolkata night.
Ravi Shastri (SCREAMING): "HUNDRED! A magnificent, belligerent, match-winning CENTURY for Aarav Pathak! He has smoked that out of the ground! 104 meters! He reaches three figures off just 43 balls! And he doesn't even smile! He just wants to finish it!"
Crowd:"AA-RAV! AA-RAV!"
Aarav didn't raise his bat. He didn't take off his helmet. He just punched gloves with Tewatia and walked back to his mark. 11 needed off 17.
Ball 2: Prasidh, visibly shaken, tried a yorker. He missed. It ended up being a low full toss outside off. Aarav reached for it. He sliced under the ball, carving it over deep cover. It wasn't a muscle shot; it was pure timing. The ball soared high, hanging in the air for an eternity before crashing into the advertising boards on the second tier. SIX!
Ian Bishop: "He is in a rush! He has a flight to catch to Ahmedabad! That is six more! 5 runs needed now! This is absolute destruction of a quality bowling attack!"
Ball 3: 5 runs to win. 16 balls remaining. Prasidh Krishna just wanted to bowl a legal delivery and go home. He ran in and banged it short—a final act of defiance. Aarav saw it early. He rocked back. The weight transfer was perfect. The Pull Shot. He swiveled and hammered it. The ball flew towards the deep square leg boundary—towards Stand D.
It sailed over the fielder. It sailed over the first few rows. And there, in the chaos of Stand D, a fan in a torn Gujarat Titans jersey leaped into the air. Jignesh stretched his hands out, tears streaming down his face, and caught the ball clean!
SIX!
Ravi Shastri: "GT WIN! GUJARAT TITANS ARE IN THE FINAL! Aarav Pathak finishes it with a monster hit into the stands! A chase of 204 chased down with 15 balls to spare! This is domination! This is annihilation! The Prince of Indian Cricket has conquered Eden Gardens!"
Perspective: The Chaos (Stand D)
"I CAUGHT IT! I CAUGHT IT!" Jignesh screamed, falling back into his seat, clutching the white ball to his chest like it was a diamond.
Raju and Vikram tackled him in a bear hug. The entire stand erupted. Strangers were hugging strangers. Popcorn was flying in the air.
"WE ARE IN THE FINAL!" Raju roared, his voice gone. "LOOK AT THE SCOREBOARD! LOOK AT HIM!"
On the field, the fireworks went off. The sky above Kolkata turned gold and blue.
Perspective: The Aftermath
On the Pitch
The winning runs were hit. The match was over.
Rahul Tewatia punched the air, screaming in delight. He ran towards Aarav to hug him. But Aarav just stood there. He watched the ball sail into the crowd. Then, calmly, he spit the chewing gum onto the turf. He took off his gloves. He walked straight to Sanju Samson, who looked shell-shocked.
Aarav extended his hand. "Well played, Sanju bhai," Aarav said, his voice void of emotion. Sanju blinked, shaking the hand. "You... you were something else today, Aarav. Unreal."
The Celebration (and lack thereof)
The Gujarat Titans dugout emptied onto the field. Rashid Khan was sprinting, jumping on Shubman Gill's back. David Miller was high-fiving Gary Kirsten. Ashish Nehra was hugging Abhishek.
But amidst the sea of jumping, screaming blue jerseys, two figures stood still.
Aarav Pathak walked towards the stumps, picked one up as a souvenir, and walked towards the boundary line. He looked drained. The anger from the run-out hadn't fully dissipated; it had just turned into a cold exhaustion.
And near the dugout, Rinku Singh sat on a kit bag. He wasn't celebrating. He had his head in his hands. The guilt of that run-out, the glare from his captain, it weighed on him heavier than the victory.
Rahul Tewatia ran up to Aarav. "Captain! We did it! Smile, man!" Aarav looked at Tewatia, gave a small, tired nod. "Good hitting, Rahul. We have one more game to go."
Harsha Bhogle: "Look at the scenes! Jubilation for the Titans! But look at the Captain. Not a smile. Just a handshake and a walk to the dugout. That is a man on a mission. He knows the job isn't done yet."
Sunil Gavaskar: "And spare a thought for the Rajasthan Royals. They scored 203. They thought they had enough. But they ran into a storm named Aarav Pathak. 116 not out. In a chase of 200. In a Qualifier. This innings will be talked about for years."
Final Scorecard
Gujarat Titans: 205/5 (17.3 Overs)
Aarav Pathak: 116* (45 balls) - 4s: 8, 6s: 9
Rahul Tewatia: 19* (7 balls) - 4s: 2, 6s: 1
David Miller: 21 (9)
Heinrich Klaasen: 7 (9)
Abhishek Sharma: 16 (10)
Shubman Gill: 6 (9)
Rinku Singh: 8 (11) - Run Out
Bowling Card (RR)
Trent Boult: 3-0-41-1
Prasidh Krishna: 2.3-0-45-0
Yuzvendra Chahal: 4-0-48-1
Ravichandran Ashwin: 4-0-31-1
Obed McCoy: 4-0-38-1
Post-Match Presentation
Harsha Bhogle: "Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome the Player of the Match. For a breathtaking 116 not out and 2 wickets with the ball... Aarav Pathak!"
The crowd roared as Aarav walked up to the podium. He accepted the trophy and the cheque.
Harsha: "Aarav, 204 to chase. Pressure game. You looked... angry out there. Especially after the run-out. What was going through your mind?"
Aarav: "Honest answer? I was furious. Not just at Rinku, but at the situation. We practice hard for these moments. Basic errors shouldn't happen. But... Rinku is a match-winner. He knows it. I was in the zone. I just wanted to finish the game."
Harsha: "You didn't celebrate your hundred. You didn't celebrate the win."
Aarav: "Job's not finished, Harsha. We came here for the trophy. This is just the ticket to the final. We celebrate on Sunday."
Harsha: "Well played. Go easy on Rinku."
Aarav cracked a very small smile. "He's buying dinner tonight."
As Aarav walked off, the camera panned to the dugout. Rinku Singh was still sitting there. Aarav walked past the celebrating team, went straight to Rinku, and extended a hand. Rinku looked up, eyes red. Aarav pulled him up into a hug. A short, firm hug. " Fielding practice tomorrow," Aarav whispered. Rinku nodded, finally cracking a smile. "Yes, Captain."
The Titans had booked their place in Ahmedabad. The Royals were heartbroken, heading to the Eliminator. And the legend of Aarav Pathak had just added its most explosive chapter yet.
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TENDULKAR POV:
The massive 85-inch television in the Tendulkar living room was the altar tonight. The air conditioning was humming, but the atmosphere was warmer than usual.
On the plush beige sofa, the God of Cricket, Sachin Tendulkar, sat with a bowl of popcorn, wearing a comfortable t-shirt and shorts. Next to him was Anjali, looking elegant even in loungewear, her hands clasped nervously.
On the floor, amidst a scatter of cushions, sat the "Next Gen". Sara Tendulkar, wearing a Gujarat Titans jersey with 'GILL 77' on the back. Arjun Tendulkar, stretching his long legs, holding a remote. And Shradha Tendulkar, the quietest of them all, wearing an oversized hoodie that definitely belonged to Aarav, clutching a pillow to her chest.
The match had just started. The score was 12/1. On screen, Shubman Gill was walking back to the pavilion, head down, after edging Trent Boult.
The room went silent. Sara let out a frustrated groan, burying her face in her hands. "No! He was looking so good! Why did he poke at that?"
Arjun, never missing a beat to annoy his sister, took a handful of popcorn. "Classic Boult setup. Late movement. Shubman should have left it alone. Rookie mistake."
"Shut up, Arjun," Sara snapped, throwing a cushion at him. "He scored 6 runs. That's 6 more than you would against Boult."
"Kids, stop," Anjali intervened gently. "It happens. It's a good ball."
Sachin nodded, his eyes fixed on the replay. "He committed to the front foot too early. Boult brought it back in. Unlucky. But now... here comes the main man."
On screen, the graphic flashed: AARAV PATHAK.
Shradha straightened up. Her heart did a little flip. Even though she saw him on video calls almost every day, seeing him walk out to bat at Eden Gardens with 66,000 people screaming his name was different. He looked like a gladiator.
"Look at that swag," Arjun whistled. "Walks in like he owns the place. Shradha, tell your fiancé to leave some aura for the rest of us."
Shradha blushed, hiding a smile behind her pillow. "He's focused. Look at his eyes. He's not smiling."
As the match progressed, the tension in the room fluctuated. When Aarav hit the 'Parking Lot Six' off Prasidh Krishna, the living room erupted.
"Shot!" Sachin clapped his hands instinctively. "High elbow, perfect balance. That reminded me of Viv."
"He hit it out of the ground, Dad!" Arjun exclaimed. "That ball is gone! I would hate to bowl to him in the nets."
But then came the 15th over. The run-out. The screen showed Rinku Singh hesitating, the stumps shattering, and then... The Death Stare. Aarav slamming his bat. The fury in his eyes.
The room went pin-drop silent.
"Whoa," Arjun whispered. "He is mad. That is scary."
Shradha gripped the pillow tighter. She knew that look. It wasn't just anger; it was disappointment. He hated mistakes. "He's going to be in a bad mood tonight," she murmured.
"He has every right to be," Sachin analyzed, his voice serious. "It was an easy two. In a chase like this, you can't give away wickets. That shows he cares. That shows passion."
"I hope he doesn't lose his concentration," Anjali prayed, fingers crossed. "He needs to stay calm."
Then came the shift. The Red Mist cleared, replaced by the Viv Richards Aura. When Tewatia started hitting Ashwin, Sara and Arjun were high-fiving. But when the 17th over started—Trent Boult vs Aarav—the Tendulkar household turned into a stadium.
Ball 2: The Slog Sweep Six. "OH MY GOD!" Sara screamed, jumping up. "Did you see that?!"
Ball 3: The Scoop Six. Sachin actually stood up. He walked closer to the TV. "How? How did he do that? He went to the wide line and ramped Boult? That is genius innovation."
Shradha was no longer sitting. She was standing on the sofa (much to Anjali's dismay, but Anjali was too busy cheering to scold her). "Go Aarav! Finish it!"
Ball 4: The Flick Six. "He's toying with them!" Arjun laughed, shaking his head in disbelief. "This is video game cricket! Cheat codes activated!"
17 runs needed. 18 balls. Prasidh Krishna to bowl.
"He's on 98," Sara checked her phone. "He needs 2 for a century. He needs 17 to win."
"He won't take a single," Shradha said confidently. "He wants to go home."
Ball 1: The Flat Six.CRACK. The sound on the TV was loud, but the scream in the living room was louder.
"CENTURY!" Anjali clapped enthusiastically. "What a player! What a knock!"
Sachin was beaming. A proud, fatherly smile. "Magnificent. Absolutely magnificent. 100 off 43 balls in a Qualifier. This boy is special, Shradha. You chose well."
Shradha was beaming, tears pricking her eyes. She felt a surge of overwhelming pride. That was her Aarav.
Ball 3: The Winning Shot. The moment Jignesh caught the ball in the stands, the Tendulkar living room dissolved into chaos.
Arjun tackled Sara onto the beanbag. Anjali hugged Sachin. Shradha stood there, hands over her mouth, watching the screen.
She saw Aarav not celebrating. She saw him spit the gum, shake hands calmly, and walk away.
"Why is he not smiling?" Sara asked, untangling herself from Arjun. "He just won the match single-handedly!"
"Because the job isn't done," Sachin said softly, sitting back down. "He has the Mamba Mentality. He wants the trophy. The century is just a step."
Shradha nodded, wiping a happy tear. "He's still thinking about the run-out. He's thinking about the final."
The TV showed the presentation ceremony. Aarav was accepting the Man of the Match award.
Arjun picked up his phone. "I'm texting him. 'Bro, you are an alien. Teach me that scoop shot.'"
Sara picked up hers. "I'm texting Shubman. 'Well played team. Tell your Captain he's a beast.'"
Sachin looked at Shradha. "Are you going to call him?"
"Not yet," Shradha smiled, sitting back down, watching Aarav speak on screen. "I'll let him cool down. I'll send him a picture of us watching. That will make him smile."
Anjali got up. "Well, that settles it. We are going to Ahmedabad for the final, right? I am not missing this live."
"Ahmedabad!" Arjun cheered.
Shradha looked at the TV screen, where Aarav was walking off, the "Prince of Cricket" caption flashing below him.
I'll be there, she thought. Front row.
It was a good night to be a Titan fan. It was a better night to be a Tendulkar. And it was the best night to be Shradha.
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The moment Aarav stepped across the boundary rope and into the sanctuary of the dugout, the 'Cold Captain' mask finally cracked.
He had walked off the field with a stone face, but as he entered the team area, he was ambushed. Rashid Khan and Shubman Gill were waiting with bottles of water (and likely some hidden energy drinks) to spray, but they stopped when they saw his expression.
Aarav looked at the frozen faces of his teammates—players who were deliriously happy but slightly terrified of his earlier anger.
He looked at Rinku Singh, who was standing in the corner near the kit bags, looking like a schoolboy waiting for detention. Rinku had his head down, still wearing his pads, unable to meet Aarav's eyes.
Aarav sighed, the tension leaving his shoulders. He walked straight to Rinku. The room went silent. Even Ashish Nehra stopped talking.
Aarav placed both hands on Rinku's shoulders and gave him a rough shake.
"Oye, Aligarh," Aarav said, his voice loud enough for everyone to hear. "Why is your face hanging like a wet sock? We won, didn't we?"
Rinku looked up, eyes shimmering. "Bhaiya, that run-out... I froze. I thought I cost us the match."
"You froze," Aarav nodded, his expression softening into a genuine grin. "And next time, you won't. Everyone makes mistakes, Rinku. Even I dropped a catch in the third match. Forget it. It's in the past. You are a match-winner. Never forget that."
He then slapped Rinku's helmet playfully. "Now take off these pads. You look ridiculous standing here while everyone else is celebrating."
The tension in the room snapped like a rubber band. A collective cheer erupted.
"HE SMILED!" Abhishek Sharma yelled, jumping onto a bench. "THE CAPTAIN SMILED! PARTY TIME!"
Aarav laughed, throwing his hands up. "Okay, okay! Listen up!"
He gathered the team in a huddle, coaches included. The adrenaline was still pumping, but he needed to set the tone.
"We are one step away," Aarav said, his eyes scanning the group. "Just one step. We have dominated the league. We conquered Kolkata. Now, we go home."
"To Patra City?" Miller asked, confused about the geography.
"To Gujarat," Aarav corrected, a glint in his eye. "To Ahmedabad. The final is on the 29th. That's five days from now. We have earned this break. No practice tomorrow. No meetings. Just sleep, recovery, and... dancing."
He looked at Rashid. "DJ Rashid, play the music."
Rashid Khan didn't need a second invitation. He connected his phone to the massive JBL speaker in the dressing room. The bass of 'Lungi Dance' shook the walls of Eden Gardens.
And then, the Prince of Cricket danced.
It wasn't the elegant footwork of the crease. It was chaotic, bhangra-infused madness. Aarav grabbed Rinku and spun him around. Ashish Nehra was doing his signature 'air-guitar' move. Gary Kirsten was clapping off-beat.
For that hour, they weren't the Titans. They were just a bunch of boys who had pulled off a heist.
Later that night, as the team boarded the bus back to the hotel, the reality of the schedule set in.
Today: May 24th. Final: May 29th.
They had a luxury rarely afforded in the IPL—a four-day gap. The Eliminator (RR vs RCB/LSG) and Qualifier 2 would happen while they rested.
Ashish Nehra sat next to Aarav on the bus. The music had died down, replaced by the hum of the AC.
"Ahmedabad will be different, Aarav," Nehra said, scrolling through the stadium specs on his tablet. "Narendra Modi Stadium. It's a coliseum. 130,000 capacity. It's never hosted an IPL match before. It's brand new turf for everyone."
"It's on Gujarat soil, Nehra ji," Aarav replied, looking out at the Kolkata streets. "That's all that matters. Technically, our home ground is the academy ground in Patra City, but Ahmedabad... that's our fortress by blood. The crowd will be 100% Blue."
"True," Nehra nodded. "But the pitch? It's red soil and black soil mix. We don't know how it behaves. Bounce? Spin? It's a mystery box."
"We adapt," Aarav shrugged, closing his eyes. "We always adapt. Besides, it's a level playing field. Rajasthan or whoever comes... they haven't played there either. It's a neutral ground with a home advantage in the stands."
"Five days is a long time," Nehra mused. "Momentum can drop."
"Not this team," Aarav murmured, drifting towards sleep. "We don't run on momentum, Coach. We run on hunger. And we are very, very hungry."
May 25: Travel to Ahmedabad. Check-in. Sleep.
May 26: Rest Day / Media Duties.
May 27: Light Training Session or rest.
May 28: Full Practice at Narendra Modi Stadium (First look at the pitch).
May 29: THE FINAL.
As the bus merged onto the highway, Aarav checked his phone."
The Titans were going to the Final. And the world wasn't ready for what was coming in Ahmedabad.
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While the Gujarat Titans slept in their hotel rooms in Kolkata, the rest of the IPL ecosystem was buzzing. The teams that had packed their bags—Mumbai, Chennai, Punjab—were watching from their homes, and the reaction was unanimous awe.
WhatsApp Group: "Team India Core"
Virat Kohli: "Did you see that bat swing? The scoop shot against Boult? That was ridiculous. 🤯"
Rohit Sharma: "The timing, yaar. He makes it look lazy. That 104m six... he didn't even muscle it."
Rishabh Pant: "Bhaiya, I thought I was the only one who played crazy shots. He is playing video games out there. Also, did you see him scare Rinku? 🤣 I would have cried."
Hardik Pandya: "He's built different, boys. The focus is scary. He didn't even smile after the hundred."
MS Dhoni (Private DM to Aarav): "Well played. Job not done yet. Keep the head down."
If the cricket world was impressed, the internet was broken. The "Aarav Pathak Phenomenon" had transcended sport and entered pop culture.
Twitter (X) Trending Topics:
#ThePrinceArrives
#AaravPathak
#RinkuSurvivalPrayers
#104Meters
#AuraFarming
The Reels:
The "Aura" Edit:
Visual: Slow-motion footage of Aarav walking out to bat, chewing gum.
Cut to: The "Death Stare" at Rinku Singh.
Cut to: The "No-Look" six off Prasidh Krishna.
Music: Slowed+Reverb Phonk music (Metamorphosis).
Caption: "Bro didn't choose the thug life, the thug life chose bro. 🥶👑"
The "Run-Out" Meme:
Image: Aarav slamming his bat.
Text: "My Mom when I forget to defrost the chicken."
Image: Rinku's scared face.
Text: "Me explaining I was playing PUBG."
The Comparison Edit:
A split-screen video. Top: Viv Richards walking without a helmet, chewing gum. Bottom: Aarav Pathak walking out at Eden Gardens.
Comment Section: "Reincarnation confirmed?" "The swagger is identical!"
The "Prince" Narrative: A viral tweet by a popular cricket statistician, Mufaddal Vohra, set the tone: "Virat Kohli is the King. But Aarav Pathak? He is the Conqueror. 116 (43) in a Qualifier. This is not a knock; this is a statement of ownership."*
The Media Circus: Aaj Tak 'Cricket Adda'
Time: 8:00 PM Prime Time Debate Show: "World Cup Ki Tayari Ya IPL Ka King?" (World Cup Prep or IPL King?) Anchor: Vikrant Gupta Panel: Sunil Gavaskar, Kapil Dev, Gautam Gambhir, Madan Lal.
Vikrant Gupta: "Swagat hai aapka. The question on everyone's lips today is not about who will win the final, but about the boy who made 204 look like 150. Aarav Pathak. Kapil Paaji, you have seen Viv Richards, you have seen Sachin. What did we see yesterday?"
Kapil Dev (Smiling): "Vikrant, I don't use these words lightly. But yesterday, I saw arrogance. And I mean good arrogance. The way he chewed that gum... it reminded me of the West Indies in the 70s. He wasn't playing against the bowler; he was playing against the ball. That scoop shot against Boult? In our time, the coach would have slapped us for trying that. But he hit it for six. He is fearless."
Vikrant Gupta: "Sunny Bhai, technique wise?"
Sunil Gavaskar: "Technically, he is compact. He doesn't have a high backlift like Yuvraj, but his wrists... my god, those Godly wrists. The way he flicked Prasidh Krishna over square leg... that is pure timing. But what impressed me most was the temperament. Rinku ran himself out. Aarav got angry. But he didn't throw his wicket away. He channeled that anger. That is maturity."
Vikrant Gupta: "Gautam, you are always critical of individual obsession. But this captaincy? 12 wins in league stage. Finals in first attempt."
Gautam Gambhir (Serious): "Look, I have always said, individuals don't win trophies, teams do. But Aarav has built a team culture. Why was he angry at Rinku? Not because he wanted the strike. But because a run-out is a 'soft' error. He demands excellence. That is what winning captains do. He reminds me of a young MS Dhoni in terms of calmness, but with the aggression of Virat. He is not there to make friends. He is there to win. And honestly? India needs that attitude for the World Cup."
Gautam Gambhir: "If you want to win the World Cup in Australia, you need someone who can hit 150 kmph bowlers for six over third man. Aarav is that guy. He should bat higher than 4, preferably at number 3."
As the debates raged on and the internet churned out content, the subject of it all was sitting in a window seat of the Titan Force aircraft.
Below him, the lights of Kolkata faded. Ahead lay the darkness of the night, and beyond that, the shimmering lights of Ahmedabad.
The Narendra Modi Stadium awaited. 130,000 empty seats were waiting to be filled. The stage was set for the biggest cricket match of the year.
The Prince was coming home. And he wasn't coming alone; he was bringing a storm with him.
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Date: 25th May 2022 Location: Sardar Vallabhbhai Patel International Airport, Ahmedabad
As the wheels of the Titan Force kissed the tarmac of the Ahmedabad airport, the pilot didn't need to make an announcement. The noise from outside was already seeping through the insulated cabin walls.
It wasn't just a crowd; it was a festival.
Thousands of fans clad in dark blue jerseys were lined up along the airport perimeter fence, waving flags that danced in the hot Gujarati wind. The moment the aircraft taxied to the private terminal, the roar was deafening.
"AA-RAV! AA-RAV!""G-T! G-T!"
Inside the plane, Abhishek Sharma looked out the window and whistled. "Bhai, I think half of Gujarat is here. Is there a public holiday today?"
Aarav unbuckled his seatbelt, putting on his sunglasses. "If we win on Sunday, every day will be a holiday. Let's go."
As the doors opened of airport exit and Aarav stepped out, the sound wave hit him physically. It was a wall of adoration. He waved, and the crowd went berserk. Drums beat in a frantic rhythm, and petals were showered from somewhere above the terminal exit.
The team bus—a double-decker beast wrapped in the Titans' logo—was waiting, but getting to it was a mission.
Security had created a barricade, but the fans were pressing against it, desperate for a glimpse of their heroes.
Aarav walked towards the bus, but he stopped when he saw a small boy, maybe seven years old, sitting on his father's shoulders, crying and waving a miniature bat. The boy was wearing a jersey that was three sizes too big, with 'PATHAK 4' taped onto the back.
Aarav signaled the security to let them through. He walked up to the kid. The boy froze, eyes wide. Aarav smiled, reached into his kit bag, and pulled out a white practice ball. He signed it quickly with a marker and handed it to the shaking hands of the child. "Don't cry, champ," Aarav said, ruffling the boy's hair. "Save the tears for the happy memories on Sunday."
The father looked like he was about to faint. "Thank you, Aarav! Thank you! Gujarat is with you!"
Further down the line, a group of girls were screaming at a pitch only dogs could hear. They were holding posters that read: "Gill is Cute but Aarav is Emotion" and "Marry Me Abhishek!"
Shubman Gill and Abhishek Sharma stopped to take selfies. "One photo, please!" they pleaded. Aarav joined them, leaning in for a group selfie. The girls shrieked in delight as the flash went off.
"You guys are enjoying this too much," Aarav teased Abhishek as they finally boarded the bus. "Hey, I have to maintain my fanbase too," Abhishek grinned, waving one last time. "You can't have all the girls."
The journey from the airport to the team hotel—the luxurious ITC Narmada—was a slow crawl. A convoy of bikes and cars followed the team bus, honking in rhythm. The streets of Ahmedabad were decked out in blue lights. Billboards featuring Aarav, Rashid, and Abhishek loomed over every intersection.
As they neared the Motera area, the colossal structure of the Narendra Modi Stadium came into view. Even from the outside, it was intimidating. The sheer scale of it—the largest cricket stadium in the world—was a reminder of the stage they were about to step onto.
Inside the bus, the mood shifted from celebratory to analytical as Ashish Nehra pointed out the stadium.
"Two matches left in the tournament," Nehra said, addressing the players. "Qualifier 2 and The Final. Both played right here."
"Who do we want in the final?" Miller asked.
"Doesn't matter," Aarav replied, looking at the stadium. "But Rajasthan has a slight advantage."
"Advantage?" Gill asked. "We beat them."
"They play Qualifier 2 here on Friday," Aarav explained. "They get a match on this pitch before the final. They will know how the black soil behaves. They will know the dew factor. We just practice. They play."
The equation was set. Qualifier 2: Rajasthan Royals vs. The Winner of the Eliminator (LSG vs RCB).
"If Rajasthan wins Q2," Nehra nodded, "they come into the final with momentum and pitch knowledge. If RCB or LSG win, they play two high-pressure games in three days. Either way, we have to be ready."
The bus finally pulled into the hotel driveway. The hotel staff welcomed them with traditional aarti and tilak. The lobby was a sanctuary of cool air and silence, a stark contrast to the chaos outside.
Aarav picked up his room key. "Recovery tonight, boys. Tomorrow, we sleep. Friday, we watch the game. Saturday, we train. Sunday... we hunt."
He walked towards the elevator, the noise of the Ahmedabadi crowd still ringing in his ears. They were home.
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Author's Note: - 5600+ Words
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