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The scoreboard read 6/2. The Dubai International Stadium was a cauldron of noise, but for the two men in the middle, the world had shrunk to a strip of turf 22 yards long.
I stood at the crease. The "King's Aura" was active, humming beneath my skin, but cricket is a game of physics, not just metaphysics. And right now, the physics were in Shaheen's favor.
Ball 2.2: Shaheen to Aarav Shaheen ran in, his hair flopping with the momentum. He didn't look for the swing; he went for the kill. A searing yorker, tailing in at 147 kmph. My bat came down just in time. I jammed it into the turf, digging the ball out. It rolled back to the bowler. Shaheen fielded it, feigning a throw at my head. I didn't flinch. I just chewed my gum.
Ian Bishop (Comms): "That is a serious examination. Shaheen is not giving him an inch. A toe-crusher first up to the new man. Aarav does well to keep it out."
Ball 2.3: Good length, shaping away just outside off. I watched it closely. Leave. I shouldered arms. The ball hissed past, carrying through to Rizwan at chest height.
Ball 2.4: Shaheen went wider on the crease, angling it in and getting it to straighten. I felt for it. Hard hands. Whoosh. The ball beat the outside edge by a coat of varnish. The Pakistani slip cordon went up in a collective gasp. "OOOOH!"
Bazid Khan (Comms): "He is all over him! Aarav Pathak is looking at sea here. This is high-quality bowling. Pakistan can smell blood."
Ball 2.5: Finally, a delivery on the pads. I tucked it off my hips, a nervous little deflection. We scampered for two runs. India 8/2. I was off the mark.
Ball 2.6: Solid defense.
Over 3: Imad Wasim.
Babar Azam brought on the left-arm spinner immediately. Imad Wasim isn't a big turner of the ball; he is a dart-thrower. He fires it in, cramping the batsman for room.
Virat and I met in the middle. "Don't panic," Virat said, though his eyes were darting at the scoreboard. "We build. Just singles. Take the match deep"
It was a suffocating over. Imad darted them in. I punched to long-on. Virat pushed to cover. We were scrambling, just trying to survive the new ball storm. Four singles. Score: 12/2.
Over 4: Shaheen Afridi.
The Eagle returned. He sensed the pressure building. India was crawling at 4 runs an over.
Ball 4.1: Shaheen overpitched slightly. Just a fraction full outside off. I saw the opportunity. The release of pressure. I leaned into the drive. It wasn't fully timed—the bat turned slightly in my hand, but the intent was there. The ball raced through extra cover, beating the diving fielder.
FOUR.
The Indian fans finally found their voice. A roar of relief.
Shane Watson (Comms): "Shot! That will release some tension. Not perfectly timed, but he found the gap. Aarav Pathak finally gets a boundary."
Shaheen didn't like that. He walked back to his mark, scuffing the turf, his face a mask of fury.
Ball 4.2: He ran in harder. He didn't bowl full. He banged it in. 146 kmph. Bouncer. It rose sharply off the deck. I was on the front foot, expecting the fuller ball. I tried to sway, but it followed me.
CLANG.
The ball smashed into the side of my helmet grille. The sound echoed around the stadium.
I stumbled back a step. The helmet absorbed the shock, but my ears were ringing.
Shaheen didn't apologize. He walked down the pitch, staring at me. He stopped three feet away, muttering something in Urdu, his eyes aggressive.
I adjusted my helmet. I checked the grille. Then, I looked up. [System Alert: Aura Spike.]
I didn't say a word. I just stared back. I chewed my gum, tilted my head, and held his gaze. I didn't blink. I didn't look away. I let the silence stretch until it became uncomfortable. Is that all you have? my eyes asked.
Shaheen eventually turned around, chuntering.
Murali Kartik (Comms): "Ooh, that has rattled the cage! A vicious bouncer from Shaheen, right on the badge! And look at the stares being exchanged! No love lost here. This is a battle of egos now."
Score: 19/2.
The pressure was relentless. We were barely scoring.
Over 5: Imad Wasim. Another tight over. Just 5 runs. Virat and I were running hard, stealing singles, diving into the crease. Score: 24/2.
Over 6: Haris Rauf.
Babar turned to pure pace. Haris Rauf, the speed demon. He steamed in, clocking 150 kmph first ball.
Virat Kohli was on strike. Rauf bowled a length ball on the pads—a gift. Virat whipped his wrists. That trademark, bottom-handed flick that defies physics. The ball rocketed through mid-wicket for FOUR.
"KOHLI! KOHLI!"
But Rauf corrected his line immediately. Fast, back of a length, cramping us up. We played out the rest of the over cautiously. Survival was the priority.
End of Powerplay.
I walked to the hydration station. I looked at the giant screen.
India: 31/2 (6 Overs).Required Run Rate: 9.07.
We had survived the burst, but we were miles behind the game.
Virat wiped sweat from his face. "We are behind," he stated the obvious. "But we have wickets in hand now. The spinners are coming. We attack the spin."
I nodded, gripping my bat. The aura was there, the confidence was there, but the runs weren't. Yet.
"Time to switch gears, Skip," I whispered.
The stick cricket mode hadn't activated yet. But the System was humming. The calibration was complete.
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[Score: 31/2 after 6 Overs]
The Powerplay was done. The field spread out. The suffocating ring of fielders inside the circle dispersed, but the pressure didn't release; it merely changed shape.
Virat and I rotated the strike. We ran hard—ones turned into twos, pushes turned into frantic scrambles. By the end of the 7th over, the partnership had reached 45 runs. It looked stable. It looked like we were absorbing the blow.
Over 7: Shadab Khan.
Babar brought on his premier leg-spinner. Shadab was tossing it up, inviting the drive, daring us to hit against the turn on a sticky wicket.
Ball 7.3: Virat Kohli was on 18 off 21 balls. The run rate was climbing. He felt the need to impose himself. Shadab bowled a googly, slower through the air. Virat read it, but he tried to force it against the spin over mid-wicket. He didn't get to the pitch of the ball. The bat turned in his hand. The ball ballooned high into the night sky. Hasan Ali at deep mid-wicket settled under it, took a few steps back, and pouched it safely.
Virat Kohli c Hasan b Shadab 18 (22)India: 48/3
The stadium erupted in green noise. The anchor was gone.
Suryakumar Yadav (SKY) walked out. The man with the 360-degree game. But Pakistan had done their homework.
Overs 8 & 9:Mohammad Hafeez and Shadab Khan The Professor, came in. A right-arm off-spinner against a right-handed batter? Usually, that's a matchup win for the batter. But Hafeez was clever. He bowled flat, into the pitch, taking the pace off. SKY swept him once for FOUR, a brilliant shot behind square, but he looked jittery. He was twitching, trying to find angles that weren't there. Score: 60/3.
Over 10: Haris Rauf.
Pace returned. And it returned with vengeance.
Ball 10.2: Rauf banged it in. A heavy ball, rising chest high. SKY, still thinking about the slow spin, was late on the adjustment. He went for the pull, but he was cramped. Top edge. The ball went straight up. Mohammad Rizwan, the keeper, didn't even have to move. He just waited for gravity to do its job.
Suryakumar Yadav c Rizwan b Rauf 10 (9)India: 65/4
We were sinking.
Rishabh Pant walked in. The X-factor. Babar Azam didn't hesitate. He brought Mohammad Hafeez back instantly. Off-spin against the left-hander. The classic matchup.
Over 11: Pant survived three balls. He looked restless. He wanted to hit his way out of trouble.
Ball 11.4: Hafeez slowed it down even more. floated it wide outside off. Pant's eyes lit up. Slog sweep. He dragged it. He reached out, lost his shape, and dragged the ball from outside off stump onto his leg stump.
Clatter.
Rishabh Pant b Hafeez 4 (5)India: 71/5
Half the side was back in the hut. We needed 87 runs to win. We had only 5 wickets left. And the only recognized batsman left was Aarav.
Hardik Pandya walked out. He looked confident.
I stood at the non-striker's end, watching the procession. My partners were leaving me one by one. The Required Run Rate had touched 10.0.
The Pakistani fielders were chirping. Shadab Khan walked past me, smiling. "Pressure, bhai? Big pressure."
I looked at the scoreboard. 71/5.
[System Alert][Status: Alone.][Viv Richards Aura: Engage Manual Override.]
Over 13: Hasan Ali.
I needed to break the shackles. I couldn't wait for the death overs. I walked up to Hardik. "Give me the strike. Just give me the strike."
Hardik took a single. I was on.
Ball 12.2: Hasan Ali ran in. I didn't wait for the ball to arrive. I walked down the pitch. One step. Two steps. I met the ball on the half-volley. I didn't look at where I was hitting. I knew where the fielders were. With a snap of my wrists—pure, unadulterated power—I whipped it over long-off.
SIX!
The crowd roared. I didn't look at the ball. I looked at Hasan Ali. I adjusted my helmet.
Ball 12.3: Hasan went wide. I stayed back. I waited until the ball was past me, then used my wrists to steer it through point. A late cut played with the force of a slash.
FOUR.
[Milestone Unlocked: Half-Century]Aarav Pathak: 50 (41 balls).
It wasn't my fastest fifty. It was a fifty forged in fire. A fifty scored while the palace crumbled around me.
I raised my bat. Just once. A short, sharp acknowledgment. Then I turned to the Pakistani fielders. I stared at Babar. I stared at Shadab. The message was clear: I am still here.
Over 14. Hardik struggled. He couldn't time the ball on the sticky surface. He swung and missed. He got a lucky inside edge for a single.
I calculated the equation in my head before the over ended. Score: 98/5.Target: 158.Need: 60 runs.Balls: 36.
10 runs an over.
I walked to the center of the pitch, chewing my gum, spinning the bat in my hand like a baton. I looked at Hardik. "Don't worry about hitting," I said, my voice calm, cutting through the noise. "Just stay there. I will do the hitting."
I turned to face the next bowler. My cap sat low. My aura filled the stadium.
The game was on.
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[Equation: 60 runs needed off 36 balls]
I stood at the non-striker's end, wearing my Blue cap, watching Hardik Pandya take strike against Shadab Khan. Hardik was the finisher, the man built for these moments. But today, the pitch was sticky, and his timing was off.
Over 15: Shadab Khan.
Hardik swung and missed. He blocked. The required rate ticked over 10.5. Pressure does funny things to muscle memory.
Ball 15.2: Shadab tossed it up, brave bowling. A googly, floating wide. Hardik saw the glory shot. He didn't wait. He launched himself into a lofted drive down the ground, aiming for the sightscreen. But he got more height than distance. The bat twisted in his hands. The ball soared high, hanging in the night sky for an eternity. Babar Azam at long-on settled under it, took a few steps back, and swallowed it.
Hardik Pandya c Babar b Shadab 8 (11)India: 104/6
Hardik punched his bat in frustration. I didn't say a word. I just walked to the striker's end, tapping the pitch. Ravindra Jadeja walked out. The sword-wielder. We needed a partnership.
I looked at the equation. 54 off 28.I need to maximize this over.
I faced the two balls of Shadab. I used my feet, turning ones into twos, pushing the fielders to the brink of panic.
End of Over 15.Score: 108/6.Equation: 50 needed off 30 balls.
Over 16: Haris Rauf.
Babar brought his speedster back. Haris Rauf was steaming in, the veins in his neck popping. He knew if he got me, the game was over.
I signaled for my helmet. Facing 152 kmph in a cap is brave; facing it when you are the last hope of a billion people is reckless. I strapped it on, the grille locking me into a cage of focus.
Ball 16.1:152 kmph. A thunderbolt on off-stump. I backed away and slashed. Missed. Rauf stared at me. "Ab kya karega?" (What will you do now?)
Ball 16.2: He went shorter. Targeting the head. I anticipated it. I didn't hook. I dropped my wrists, arched my back, and opened the face of the bat at the very last second. The Ramp Shot. I used his 150 kmph pace against him. The ball flew over the keeper's head, sailing into the fine leg boundary. FOUR.
Ian Bishop (Comms): "Delicate! He has picked the pocket of the fastest bowler in the match! Haris Rauf provides the pace, Aarav Pathak provides the direction. That is genius batting!"
We scrambled single on the next balls. The tension was suffocating.
Ball 16.5: Jadeja was on strike. Rauf bowled a slower ball. Jadeja tapped it to mid-off. I saw a single. I called loud. "YES! TWO!" I sprinted. I was running for my life. Jadeja hesitated. He stuttered. He looked at the fielder, then at me. By the time he committed, it was too late.
Fakhar Zaman at mid-off swooped like a hawk. He picked up and threw in one motion. A direct hit at the bowler's end.
CRASH.
Jadeja was miles out.
Ravindra Jadeja run out (Fakhar Zaman) 2 (3)India: 114/7
I stood at the non-striker's end, chest heaving. Jadeja didn't look at me. He just walked off, head bowed. It was a disaster. A self-inflicted wound.
Bhuvneshwar Kumar walked out. He can bat, but he isn't a power hitter.
I walked up to Bhuvi. I grabbed his shoulder. "Don't worry about runs," I said, my voice low and dangerous. "Just give me the strike. If you get out, you get out. But do not waste balls."
Over 17: Hasan Ali.
Equation: 44 needed off 24 balls.
Hasan Ali had the ball. He had been expensive earlier. He looked nervous. I did the math in my head. Hasan Ali: Weak link. I need 15 from this over. Minimum.Shaheen has one over left. Rauf has one.I have to kill the game here.
Ball 17.1: Hasan bowled a length ball. I pushed it to long-on. There was an easy single. Bhuvi took a step. I put up my hand. "NO!" I sent him back. The crowd gasped. Refusing a single when 44 are needed?
Bazid Khan (Comms): "He has refused the single! He is backing himself to clear the boundary. That is confidence bordering on arrogance!"
Ball 17.2: Hasan Ali took it personally. He tried to bowl the heavy ball. Bouncer. But at 135 kmph, it sat up. I was waiting. I swiveled. I didn't just pull it; I mauled it. SIX! It landed deep into the square leg stands.
Ball 17.3: Hasan panicked. He overcorrected. Full and wide. I reached out. My wrists snapped like a whip. I drove it past the diving cover fielder. FOUR.
10 runs in 2 balls. The pressure shifted instantly. Hasan Ali was sweating. Babar Azam ran over to calm him down.
I stood there, adjusting my helmet, chewing my gum. I looked at Hasan. I tilted my head. Where are you going to bowl now?
Ball 17.4: Single. (I had to take it).
Ball 17.5: Bhuvi swung and missed. Dot.
Ball 17.6: Bhuvi on strike. Last ball of the over. Hasan bowled a slower ball outside off. Bhuvi threw his hands at it. Edge. It flew to the keeper. Rizwan took it cleanly.
Bhuvneshwar Kumar c Rizwan b Hasan 1 (2)India: 126/8
End of Over 17.
I stood at the non-striker's end, watching Bhuvi walk back. 8 wickets down.Score: 126/8.Target: 158.
Equation: 32 needed off 18 balls.
I looked at the tunnel. Jasprit Bumrah was walking out. My bowling partner. A man with a heart of a lion but the batting technique of a tail-ender.
I walked to the middle of the pitch to meet him. The stadium was deafening. INDIA! INDIA!
Bumrah looked at me. "What's the plan?"
I looked at the scoreboard. Then I looked at the Pakistani team celebrating.
"Jassi," I said, my eyes burning with the King's Aura. "Just survive. Do not get out. I will finish this."
32 runs.18 balls.2 wickets in hand.
The war was entering its final, bloodiest phase.
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[Equation: 32 runs needed off 18 balls]
The air in the Dubai International Stadium was thin, sucked out by the collective inhalation of 25,000 people. The noise had transcended cheering; it was now a wall of white noise, a sonic boom of anxiety and desperation.
I stood at the striker's end. 72 not out. My jersey was soaked, clinging to my back. My forearms glistened with sweat under the ring of fire (floodlights).
Shaheen Shah Afridi, the architect of India's top-order destruction, had the ball for the 18th over. He looked tired but dangerous. He knew that one wicket here—specifically my wicket—would end the contest.
I looked at Jasprit Bumrah at the non-striker's end. He was leaning on his bat, watching me. He didn't need to say anything. Get me off strike.
Over 18: Shaheen Afridi.
Ball 18.1: Shaheen steamed in, aiming for the toes. I saw the line early. It was wide of off-stump. I didn't try to be a hero. I opened the face and punched it to deep cover. 1 Run.
The crowd groaned. They wanted a boundary. But I knew the math. I needed Bumrah to survive one ball to get me back on strike for the next over. It was a gamble.
Ball 18.2: Bumrah on strike. Shaheen sensed blood. 146 kmph. Yorker. Bumrah jammed his bat down. He missed. The ball missed the off-stump by a coat of varnish. Dot ball. The Pakistani fielders roared. One ball away.
Ball 18.3: Shaheen went for the kill again. Full, swinging in. Bumrah swung blindly, more out of self-preservation than technique. Inside edge. The ball rolled to square leg. They scampered. A frantic, ugly single. 1 Run.
I was back on strike. 30 needed off 15 balls. I looked at Shaheen. I adjusted my helmet. [System]:Calculated Aggression Required.
Ball 18.4: Shaheen tried to follow me. He bowled full on leg stump. I didn't back away. I moved across the stumps, exposing all three sticks. I dropped to one knee. The Paddle Scoop. Against a left-arm pacer bowling 145kmph. I used his pace. I flicked it over the fine leg fielder inside the circle. It landed just inside the rope. FOUR!
Ian Bishop (Comms): "Audacious! That is absolutely audacious! He has walked across his stumps to the premier fast bowler and scooped him like he's playing in the backyard! Aarav Pathak has ice in his veins!"
Ball 18.5: Shaheen corrected. Wide yorker. I reached out and squeezed it to wide long-off. "TWO! TWO!" I screamed. I ran the first one hard. I turned. Bumrah was struggling, but he pushed. We made it. 2 Runs.
Ball 18.6: Last ball of the over. Shaheen was under pressure. He tried the yorker again. He missed. Full Toss. Waist high. I didn't try to hit it too hard. I just used the shape of the bat and hammered it through mid-wicket. The fielder in the deep dived, but the ball won the race. FOUR!
12 runs off the over.Score: 138/8.Equation: 20 needed off 12 balls.
The 19th Over. Usually, this is where the game is won or lost. Babar Azam tossed the ball to Haris Rauf. Rauf was the fastest bowler on the night. He had been expensive against me earlier, but he was a wicket-taker.
The stadium was shaking. The Indian dugout was a scene of nervous chaos. I looked towards the boundary line. Virat Kohli was standing outside the dugout. He wasn't sitting. He was pacing, his face a mask of torture. He looked like a man who was watching his legacy hang by a thread.
Our eyes locked for a split second. I saw the fear in his eyes.
I stopped chewing my gum. I tapped my chest with my gloved hand. Then, I moved my head in a sharp, confident nod. A gesture that said: 'It's okay.' I pointed to myself, then to the pitch, and made a calming motion with my hand. I am here. I will finish this.
Virat stopped pacing. He took a deep breath and nodded back. A transfer of faith.
Shane Watson (Comms): "Did you see that? Aarav Pathak just signaled to his captain. He's telling Kohli to calm down. Can you believe the confidence of this 21-year-old? 20 runs needed in a World Cup game against Pakistan, and he is reassuring the skipper!"
Over 19: Haris Rauf.
Ball 19.1: Rauf started with a change of pace. Back of the hand slower ball. I was waiting for the express pace. I swung too early. Miss. The ball bounced over the stumps. Dot Ball.
Equation: 20 off 11.
Ball 19.2: Rauf saw me step out. He banged it in short. 151 kmph. It was too high to pull. I had to duck. Dot Ball.
Equation: 20 off 10.
The pressure skyrocketed. Two dots in the 19th over. The Pakistani crowd was going berserk. Rauf was staring at me, screaming. "Ab maar! Maar na!" (Hit now! Hit it!)
I stood up. I dusted off my jersey. I walked to the middle of the pitch to tap it down. I looked at the giant screen. 20 off 10.Two big hits. Just two.
[System Alert][Viv Richards Aura: CRITICAL SPIKE.][Zone: Locked.]
I went back to the crease. I didn't take a stance. I stood upright.
Ball 19.3: Rauf ran in. He backed his pace. Back of a length, on off stump. The ball that is impossible to hit. I didn't move my feet forward or back. I just stood tall on my toes. I punched it. It wasn't a slog. It was a straight punch, right back over the bowler's head. The timing was divine. The ball soared into the night sky, traveling straight as an arrow. It cleared the sightscreen.
SIX!
Ian Bishop (Comms): "THAT IS THE SHOT OF THE TOURNAMENT! Stand and deliver! He has punched a 150kph delivery back over the bowler's head for six! The crowd has erupted! This shot gave hope to Indians Fans."
Equation: 14 off 9.
Ball 19.4: Rauf rattled. He went short again. Predictable. I was waiting. weight back. I swiveled. The hook shot. I didn't keep it down. I hit it with disdain. It flew over fine leg. Into the second tier.
SIX!
Bazid Khan (Comms): "INTO THE STANDS! Back-to-back sixes! Aarav Pathak is dismantling Pakistan single-handedly! Rauf has nowhere to hide! The equation is melting away!"
Equation: 8 off 8.
Ball 19.5: Rauf went wide and full. I reached out. I wanted the boundary to kill the game. But the fielder at deep point was wide. I sliced it. It went to the sweeper. I wanted two. But Bumrah... Bumrah is not a sprinter. We settled for 1 Run.
Equation: 7 off 7.
I was off strike. I looked at Bumrah. "Jassi! Block it! Just block it!" I screamed.
Ball 19.6: Rauf to Bumrah. Rauf knew this was his chance. He didn't bowl a slower ball. He didn't bowl a bouncer. He bowled the perfect yorker. 150 kmph. Base of off stump.
Bumrah tried. He really tried. He brought his bat down. But the pace was too much. The ball crashed into the base of the off-stump.
CRASH.
Jasprit Bumrah b Rauf 1 (4)India: 151/9
End of Over 19.
The stadium went silent again. The twist in the tale. 7 runs needed off 6 balls. 1 wicket in hand.
And the last man walking out was Varun Chakravarthy. A man who had barely held a bat in international cricket.
I stood there, helmet in hand, wiping sweat from my forehead. I looked at Varun walking out, looking terrified.
The final over awaited.
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[Equation: 7 runs needed off 6 balls]
The 19th over had been a fever dream of violence and tragedy. Two sixes. A wicket. And now, the dust settled to reveal the final, cruel tableau.
India: 151/9. Target: 158. Seven runs. Six balls. One wicket.
Varun Chakravarthy, the mystery spinner who looked like he'd rather be anywhere else in the universe, stood at the non-striker's end.
Babar Azam had no pacers left. Shaheen was done. Rauf was done. Hasan was done. He tossed the ball to Imad Wasim. The left-arm spinner. The man with the dart.
The stadium was in a state of cardiac arrest. The noise had died down to a low, terrified murmur.
Harsha Bhogle (Comms): "So it comes down to this. The oldest rivalry in the game, distilled into six deliveries. Seven runs to get. One wicket in hand. A spinner bowling the final over. And the young Prince, Aarav Pathak, on 90. He is the only thing standing between Pakistan and victory."
I tapped the pitch. I looked at Imad. He looked nervous. He was wiping his hands on his trousers repeatedly.
Ball 20.1: Imad ran in flat and fast. He fired it into the pads, cramping me for room. I tried to sweep. I wanted to find the gap behind square. I missed. Thud. The ball hit the pad in line with the stumps. "HOWZAT!" Imad screamed. Rizwan screamed. The whole Pakistan team went up. The umpire... shook his head. Not Out.
"Review!" Babar yelled instantly. [DRS Initiated]
The seconds ticked by like hours. I stood there, chewing my gum, looking at the big screen. UltraEdge: No bat. Ball Tracking: Pitching in line. Impact in line. Wickets... MISSING. The ball was sliding down leg.
Ian Smith (Comms): "MISSING! IT'S MISSING! The angle saves him! Aarav Pathak survives by the barest of margins! The drama! The tension! You could cut the air with a knife!"
Equation: 7 runs off 5 balls.
Ball 20.2: Imad adjusted. He bowled flatter, on off stump. I couldn't get under it. I defended it back to the bowler. Dot Ball.
Ian Bishop (Comms): "Gold dust! Absolute gold dust from Imad Wasim! A dot ball in the final over! The pressure is ratcheting up! Aarav cannot find the boundary!"
Equation: 7 runs off 4 balls.
I walked away from the crease. I took a deep breath. Stay calm. One hit.
Ball 20.3: Imad fired it wide outside off. He saw me stepping out. I reached for it. I tried to cut it past point. I timed it well, but... straight to the fielder. Shadab Khan at point fielded it cleanly. No run. I wanted a single, but Varun wasn't backing up. I sent him back.
Dot Ball.
Harsha Bhogle (Comms): "Another dot! Can you believe it? Pakistan are believing now! They are hugging each other! Three balls, seven runs. Aarav Pathak is stranded! He needs a boundary, or this is over!"
Equation: 7 runs off 3 balls.
The Indian dugout was a picture of despair. Rohit had his face in his hands. Virat was staring at the ground, unblinking.
Ball 20.4: I had to manufacture something. Imad ran in. I stepped out. I turned it into a full toss. I drove it hard to long-off. It wasn't a boundary. It was going straight to the fielder on the rope. "TWO! TWO! TWO!" I screamed, sprinting like a maniac. Varun ran. I touched the crease at the non-striker's end and turned. Varun was struggling. The throw came in flat and hard from the deep. It was going to the bowler's end. Imad collected it. He whipped the bails off.
"RUN OUT?" Replay showed Varun's bat slide in just inches before the stumps broke. NOT OUT. Two runs completed.
Equation: 5 runs off 2 balls.
Ian Smith (Comms): "He's safe! He's safe! Varun Chakravarthy runs the race of his life! Two runs added. Five to win. Four to tie. A Super Over is on the cards! But India needs a boundary!"
Ball 20.5: Imad knew I would try something crazy. He bowled it slower, into the pitch. I went for the Reverse Sweep. I pre-meditated it. I missed. The ball hit my back pad. It rolled to the off side. Imad appealed half-heartedly, but I was outside the line. Dot Ball.
The crowd went silent. Dead silent. Pakistan started celebrating. They thought they had won. 5 runs off 1 ball. A boundary would only tie. A six was needed to win.
Equation: 5 runs needed off 1 ball. (To win).
Ian Bishop (Comms): "It has come down to this. One ball. Five runs to win. Four for a Super Over. Imad Wasim has the ball. Aarav Pathak has the hopes of a billion people resting on his bat. If he hits a four, we go to a Super Over. If he hits a six, India wins. If he misses, Pakistan makes history."
I walked to the middle of the pitch. I looked at the sky. I wasn't panicking. [System Alert][Viv Richards Aura: ABSOLUTE.][Zone: Time Dilation Active.]
I looked at Imad. He was smiling. He thought he had me. He thought the game was done.
I went back to the crease. I tapped the bat hard. I took a deep stance.
Ball 20.6: THE FINAL BALL.
Imad ran in. The crowd roared one last, desperate time. Imad saw me deep in the crease. He didn't want to bowl full. He dragged the length back slightly, aiming for a skidder that I would mistime to long-on.
I read it. I saw the release. I saw the trajectory. I didn't step out. I waited. I waited for the ball to come into my arc.
Wait... Wait... NOW.
I cleared my front leg. I swung with every ounce of strength the Brett Lee mechanics and the Viv Richards soul could muster.
CRACK!
The sound was like a gunshot in a library. I connected. Sweet, sweet middle of the bat.
The ball soared. It flew over Deep Extra Cover. It kept going. It went high into the Dubai night sky, a white comet against the black void.
Imad turned to look. Babar turned to look. The fielder on the boundary didn't even jump. He just watched it sail over his head.
SIX!
Ian Bishop (Comms): "PATHAK HAS HIT IT! HE HAS HIT IT INTO ORBIT! UNBELIEVABLE! INDIA WINS! INDIA WINS! FROM THE DEPTHS OF DESPAIR, THE PRINCE HAS RISEN! REMEMBER HIS NAME! THE TORCH CARRIER! AARAV PATHAK!"
The ball landed twenty rows back.
INDIA WINS BY 1 WICKET.
The stadium exploded. A noise that could be heard in Abu Dhabi.
I didn't run. I dropped the bat on the crease. I tilted my head back and let out a roar—a primal, animalistic roar of release.
Then, silence returned to my mind. I stood upright. I spit my chewing gum onto the ground near the popping crease. I didn't run around like a madman. I turned my head towards the VIP box. To the world, it looked like I was looking at Sachin Tendulkar, who was standing with his arms raised. But I was looking at the girl sitting next to him. Shradha. She was crying, her hands over her mouth and jumping like everyone.
I looked at her. I gave a single, slow Thumbs Up.
Then, I turned to the crowd. I bowed. deeply. Theatrical. Kingly.
Before I could straighten up, Virat Kohli hit me like a linebacker. Then Rohit. Then the whole team. I was buried under a pile of blue jerseys, screams of joy, and tears of relief.
India: 160/9 (20.0 Overs) Target: 158 Result: India won by 1 wicket. Player of the Match: Aarav Pathak 98* (60 balls) - 6 Fours, 5 Sixes.
Harsha Bhogle (Comms): "I have seen many things in cricket. I have seen miracles. But this... this was something else. From 6 for 2. From 151 for 9. To a last-ball six. He didn't just carry the team; he carried the nation. Aarav Pathak is not the future anymore; he is the present. And the present is glorious."
I lay at the bottom of the pile, gasping for air, looking at the floodlights through the tangle of limbs. I closed my eyes and smiled.
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Author's Note: - 5600+ Words 😮😮
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