A/N: Made changes in the previous chapter, nothing major, just a para about the first three matches with South Africa.
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The frantic energy of international cricket had paused for a brief breath. The rigorous South Africa series was over—India taking the ODIs 2-1, though the loss in the final dead rubber had stung slightly. But there was no time for post-mortems. The jerseys changed from the Bleed Blue of India to the silver and blue of the Deccan Chargers.
It was March 2010. The IPL circus was back in town.
The Deccan Chargers were the defending champions. They walked with a swagger. But before they could defend their title on the pitch, they had to fulfill the most grueling obligation of the IPL: The Commercial Shoot Day.
Scene 1:
Location: Mehboob Studios, Mumbai.
Set: A constructed luxury bathroom with three sinks and a large mirror.
The studio was freezing, the air conditioning blasting to counteract the heat of the heavy production lights.
Siddanth Deva stood at the center sink. To his left was Adam Gilchrist, the legendary captain. To his right was Rohit Sharma.
They were dressed in full match kits—silver pads, blue jerseys, helmets resting on the counter.
The Director, a frantic man with a ponytail and a loudhailer, yelled, "Okay, gentlemen! The concept is simple. You are washing up after a match. Gilly starts singing the anthem. He sings it badly. You correct him. Then the dance. Simple? Action!"
The clapboard snapped.
Clack.
Deva turned on the tap (which wasn't connected to water, so he just mimed washing his hands).
Gilchrist, looking at himself in the mirror, began to sing.
"Ooh... Lay... Lay... La... Lay... Ooh?"
It sounded like a dying walrus trying to communicate with a satellite.
Deva froze. He was supposed to look annoyed, but the sheer butchery of the iconic tune caught him off guard.
He turned to Gilly. "Stop, stop. Gilly, what is that?"
Gilchrist looked at him, staying in character. "It's the song, mate. The Good Times song."
Rohit Sharma, on the right, leaned in. "That's not the song. That's a noise complaint."
Gilchrist looked confused. "Show me then."
Rohit cleared his throat. He sang the melody perfectly. "Oo La La La Le O!"
Gilchrist nodded, looking determined. He took a deep breath.
"OOO LAA LAA LAA LAYYY OOO!"
He hit a note so high and so off-key that the boom mic operator visibly flinched.
Deva bit his lip. He was a professional. He had faced Dale Steyn bouncers without blinking. But this? This was torture.
He looked at Gilly's earnest face. The Australian legend was acting his heart out, his eyes wide, his mouth forming a perfect 'O'.
Deva snorted.
It started as a small puff of air through his nose.
Then Rohit saw Deva crack. Rohit's shoulders started shaking.
Gilchrist looked at them. "Was that better?"
That was the breaking point.
Deva burst out laughing. He doubled over, clutching the sink.
"I can't!" Deva gasped. "Gilly, you sound like a goat in a blender!"
Rohit collapsed onto the floor, laughing hysterically. "Layyy Ooo! Layyy Ooo!" he mimicked.
"Cut! Cut!" The Director yelled, though he was grinning too. "Focus, guys! We need the shot!"
Take 2:
"Action!"
Gilly: "Oo La La..."
Deva looked at him. He tried to say his line ("Stop, stop").
Instead, he just looked at Gilly's face and dissolved into giggles.
"Sorry!" Deva wiped his eyes. "He looks so serious!"
Take 3:
Deva: "Stop. That's wrong."
Rohit: "You are not singing it right."
Rohit started to sing the correct version, but his voice cracked on the high note.
Gilly burst out laughing. "Who's the goat now, Ro?"
Cut.
Take 4:
Everyone was laughing before the director even called action. Andrew Symonds, watching from behind the camera, threw a towel at them. "Get it done, you muppets! Lunch is waiting!"
Take 7:
The Director looked desperate. "Please, guys. One good one."
"Action!"
Gilly washed his hands. He looked in the mirror.
"Ooh... La... La... La... Le... O?" (Perfectly bad).
Deva slammed his hand on the counter. "Stop! What are you doing?"
Gilly blinked. "Singing the anthem, mate."
Rohit shook his head, looking disgusted. "That's not the anthem. Listen."
Rohit sang: "Oo La La La Le O!"
Gilly frowned. He tried again. "Oo La La La Le O!" (Still bad, but rhythmic).
Deva sighed. He put an arm around Gilly. "Not like that, Skipper. Like this."
Deva sang it.
Then, the beat dropped. The speakers blasted the heavy bass remix of the Kingfisher song.
The three of them looked at the camera.
They broke into the synchronized dance—the hand wave, the hip shake.
It was cheesy. It was ridiculous. But they nailed the timing.
"And... CUT! Beautiful! Print it!"
The moment the director yelled cut, the three of them collapsed against each other, high-fiving.
"I think I pulled a muscle laughing," Rohit wiped tears from his eyes.
"I think I have a future in opera," Gilly said, deadpan.
Scene 2:
Lunch was served in the green room. The entire squad was there—Andrew Symonds, Herschelle Gibbs, Pragyan Ojha, RP Singh.
The vibe was electric. This wasn't just a team; it was a fraternity.
Andrew Symonds—'Roy'—was sitting with a plate of Chicken Tikka, looking skeptical at a bowl of green chutney.
Deva walked over, grabbing a bottle of water.
"It's mint, Roy. It's not poison."
Symonds looked at Deva. "Mate, last time Ojha gave me something green, I spent three hours in the toilet. 'Spicy Paan', he called it."
Pragyan Ojha, sitting nearby, giggled.
"Trust me," Deva grinned. "This is safe. By the way, the director wants you for a solo shot later. You have to wear a traditional Indian turban."
Symonds groaned. "A turban? With my dreads? It's going to look like a mushroom cloud."
"That's the look they want," Deva lied smoothly. "The 'Explosive Mushroom'."
Herschelle Gibbs choked on his pasta laughing. "I'd pay to see that."
Scene 3
Time: 8:00 PM.
Set: A romantic candlelight dinner setting.
The concept was classic comedy. Adam Gilchrist was on a "date" with a stunning girl. He was supposed to be charming her in Hindi.
The twist? He didn't know Hindi.
The Solution? His "Yaars" (Friends)—Deva, Rohit, Symonds, and Gibbs—were sitting at a table directly behind the girl, holding up placards with phonetically written Hindi dialogues for Gilly to read.
The actress, Priya, sat with her back to the boys.
Gilly sat facing her, looking nervous.
The Director whispered, "Action. Gilly, look deep into her eyes. Boys, cues up!"
Take 1:
Gilly cleared his throat. He looked over Priya's shoulder.
Deva held up the first card.
It read: AAP BAHUT SUNDAR HO (You are very beautiful).
Gilly squinted. "Aap... Ba-hoot... Soon-dar... Ho."
Priya blushed (acting). "Oh, Adam. That's so sweet."
The boys silently cheered behind her back, giving thumbs up.
Take 2:
Next line. Rohit held up a card.
MERA DIL AAPKE PAAS HAI (My heart is with you).
Gilly struggled. "Mera... Dill... Aap-kay... Pass... Hay."
Priya giggled. "You are so poetic."
The Prank:
Before the third take, Deva winked at Symonds. He quickly swapped the third cue card with a dummy card they had scribbled on earlier with a marker.
The script was supposed to be: KYA HUM DANCE KAREN? (Shall we dance?)
The Director called "Action!"
Gilly looked at Priya lovingly. Then he looked over her shoulder for the line.
Deva held up the card with a straight face.
The card read: MUJHE POTTY AAYI HAI (I need to poop).
Gilly, innocent and trusting, read it with immense passion and romance.
"Moo-jay... Pot-ty... Aaa-yee... Hay."
There was a split second of silence.
Priya's eyes went wide. She bit her lip, her face turning red as she tried to stay in character.
Behind her, Rohit Sharma had his face buried in the tablecloth, his shoulders shaking violently.
Symonds was biting his fist.
Deva looked absolutely serious, nodding encouragingly at Gilly to repeat it with more feeling.
Gilly thought he hadn't been clear. He leaned in, grabbed Priya's hand, and whispered seductively, "Mujhe... Potty... Aayi Hai."
"CUT!" The Director screamed, throwing his script in the air.
The set exploded.
Priya burst out laughing. "Oh my god, Adam sir!"
The boys at the back table howled. Rohit fell off his chair.
"What?" Gilly asked, looking around, confused. "Did I say it wrong? Is my accent that bad?"
Deva walked over, wiping tears from his eyes. "No, Gilly. Your accent was perfect. It's just... you told her you need to go to the toilet with deep romantic intent."
Gilly's jaw dropped. He looked at the card. Then he looked at Deva.
"You... you little mongrel!" Gilly grabbed a bread roll and threw it at Deva.
Deva dodged, laughing. "No. 1 Yaari, Skipper! Friends help friends express their true needs!"
Scene 4:
Time: 11:00 PM.
The team was tired, but the energy was hysterical. It was the "slap-happy" phase of a long shoot.
The photographer wanted "heroic" shots of the players with their hair blowing in the wind.
They brought out a massive industrial fan.
T. Suman went first. He looked cool. The wind blew his hair back. Click. Click.
Rohit Sharma went next. He posed with the bat. Click.
Then, it was Andrew Symonds' turn.
Symonds had his famous dreadlocks and white zinc cream on his lips.
"Okay, Roy! Look fierce!" the photographer yelled.
They turned the fan to 'High'.
The wind hit Symonds.
His dreadlocks didn't flow like movie star hair. They whipped around like angry snakes. One dreadlock slapped him directly in the eye.
"AH! My eye!" Symonds yelled, dropping the bat.
The zinc cream smeared across his cheek.
He looked less like a cricket hero and more like a pirate who had walked into a hurricane.
"Turn it off! Turn it off!" Deva yelled, laughing as he ran to help.
They turned the fan off.
Symonds stood there, hair standing in every direction, one eye closed.
"I look like a startled palm tree," Symonds grumbled.
Herschelle Gibbs was on the floor laughing. "That's the billboard! That's the one! 'Deccan Chargers: We will blind you with our style!'"
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It was 2:00 AM when the shoot finally wrapped.
The studio was littered with empty water bottles, makeup wipes, and discarded props.
The team sat in a circle on the studio floor, eating food prepared for them.
Gilly wiped the makeup off his face. "I hate shoots. I'd rather face Kumble on a turning track."
"But the dance was good," Rohit mumbled while eating. "We should do that dance when we take a wicket."
"If we do that dance on the field," Symonds said, "I will retire immediately."
"Hey Sid," Gilly asked. "What did that card actually mean? The one before the toilet one?"
"Which one?"
"The one Rohit held. 'Mera Dil Aapke Paas Hai'."
"It means 'My heart is with you'," Deva translated.
Gilly smiled. He looked around the group.
"Well. That one is true. Good bunch of lads. Even if you made me tell a girl I need to poop."
"It's a bonding experience, Skipper," Deva grinned. "Now, pass the garlic bread."
The laughter echoed in the empty studio. The cameras were off. The lights were dimmed.
But the chemistry?
That was 100% real.
And the IPL 2010 wasn't ready for the Deccan Chargers.