The stadium didn't just cheer. It exploded.
Fireworks—stored for this exact moment—lit up the Karachi sky.
Sourav Ganguly punched the air, screaming in joy. He was mobbed by his teammates—Pakistani boys hugging their Indian captain.
But the real magic happened at the presentation ceremony.
The Presentation
Rameez Raja stood with the microphone.
"Ladies and Gentlemen, the winning captain... Sourav Ganguly!"
Ganguly walked up to the podium. He looked exhausted, sweat dripping from his face.
He took the trophy—a golden trophy shaped like the Sub-Continent.
Rameez asked the question that everyone was thinking.
"Sourav, you just beat Wasim Akram in Karachi. You denied the Sultan a victory in his home. Were you worried the crowd would turn on you?"
Ganguly took the mic. He looked at the 40,000 people who were still screaming his name.
"Worried?" Ganguly smiled, that crooked, confident smile.
"I am a Bengali. We are emotional people. But tonight..."
He paused, lifting the trophy high.
"Tonight, I realized something. When I wear blue for India, I fight you. But when I wear blue for Karachi... you fight for me."
He pointed to the crowd.
"Thank you, Karachi! This is for you!"
The roar was so loud it surely registered on seismographs in Mumbai.
The Aftermath: The VIP Box
I sat back, exhaling a breath I didn't know I was holding.
It was done. The experiment was a success.
Aditya Kaul had taken the most toxic rivalry in the world and turned it into a franchise model.
"Sir," General Mahmood said, looking at the screen where Ganguly was doing a lap of honor with a Pakistani flag draped over one shoulder and the Karachi flag over the other.
"We can never invade India now," Mahmood said, sounding dazed.
"Why?" I asked, sipping my water.
"Because," Mahmood pointed at the screen. "Half of Karachi just fell in love with their captain. If we declare war tomorrow, the people will ask... 'But what about the title defense next year?'"
I smirked.
"Exactly, Mahmood. You can't bomb your own shareholders."
The Ledger
I opened my diary.
Date: October 28, 2000.
Asset Acquired: The Public Imagination.
Status: The hostility has been monetized.
I looked at the Generals. They were already arguing about who would buy the franchise rights for the "Rawalpindi Rockets" next year.
They were hooked on the cash. The public was hooked on the glory.
The East was secure. The "Indian Front" was now a "Business Partner."
I checked the calendar.
November 2000.
I had ten months left.
Ten months before the towers fell in New York.
Ten months before the Americans came looking for blood.
"Enjoy the cricket, gentlemen," I whispered to the empty room as the Generals left for the buffet.
"Because the party is over. Now, we have to prepare for the storm."
I picked up the secure phone.
"Get me the file on Afghanistan," I ordered. "And get me Mullah Omar's private number."
Aditya Kaul was done playing games.
The Golden Age was built. Now, I had to build the Fortress.
Author's Note
The Psychological Pivot:
This match represents the final nail in the coffin of the "Old Animosity." By having an Indian captain win the trophy for a Pakistani city, Aditya creates a conflicting memory structure.
In the future, when a demagogue tries to say "All Indians are enemies," a Karachi taxi driver will remember, "But Ganguly won us the cup."
Nuance is the enemy of extremism. Aditya just flooded the market with nuance.
Next Chapter:
The focus shifts West. The timeline is closing in on 9/11.
Aditya has pacified the East (India). Now he must deal with the chaos in the West (Afghanistan).
He cannot stop 9/11 (some events are fixed points in history, or perhaps too far away to influence). But he can change how Pakistan reacts to it.
But first... he has to deal with the "Guest" who is currently living in Kandahar. Osama Bin Laden.