Aarav's preparations for the Ranji Trophy camp weren't confined solely to his bowling. He understood that first-class cricket, especially in multi-day formats, demanded a more complete cricketer. While his primary role would be with the ball, his experience in the IPL final, where he had defied expectations with the bat, served as a powerful reminder: a fast bowler who could also contribute with the bat, who could defend resolutely and frustrate the opposition, was an invaluable asset. He couldn't afford to be a simple tail-ender, a quick wicket for a tired bowler.
"In Ranji," Coach Reddy explained, watching Aarav bat for extended periods in the nets, "your runs might not always be quick, but your time at the crease can be priceless. You might need to bat for an hour to save a session, or just stick with a set batsman when the main batters are out. That's where your defensive game truly shines."
Aarav took this to heart. His batting practice, which had initially been about simply not getting out, now evolved into a deliberate refinement of solid defensive technique. He spent hours facing throw-downs and net bowlers, focusing intently on presenting a full, straight bat, getting his head directly over the line of the ball, and ensuring his weight transfer was precise. He honed his forward defensive push and his backward defensive punch, making sure his technique was repeatable and robust against both pace and spin. He worked on soft hands, allowing the ball to die beneath his bat rather than offering catches.
The goal was clear: he needed to be an unbreakable wall, capable of frustrating bowlers who had just toiled for hours against the top order and were now looking for a quick, morale-boosting wicket from the lower order. He imagined a fast bowler, tired after a long spell, looking at him at number 8 or 9 and thinking, easy wicket. Aarav's mission was to disabuse them of that notion, to turn their hopeful aggression into weary frustration.
Beyond mere defense, he meticulously refined his ability to rotate the strike. He practiced nudging singles into vacant areas, running hard between the wickets, and dropping the ball for quick twos, constantly keeping the scoreboard ticking over and, crucially, getting the better batsman back on strike. He drilled the art of working the ball into gaps without taking undue risks, focusing on placement rather than power. It was about smart cricket, about understanding the field and denying the bowler an easy target.
Coach Reddy pushed him on this. "You deny them the wicket, you take away their rhythm, and you force them to bowl to the other end. That's not just holding up an end; that's building pressure in a different way."
Aarav even practiced against reverse-swinging older balls, a common challenge in multi-day cricket, learning to play them late and close to his body. He honed his temperament, cultivating an even deeper sense of calm than he had for the IPL, knowing that in Ranji, a moment of rashness could lead to a collapse.
His dedication to this dual development was unwavering. The "Cricket Fire" now encompassed not just the aggressive pursuit of wickets, but also the gritty, unglamorous art of frustrating the opposition with the bat. He was preparing to be the complete package, ready to meet the diverse demands of first-class cricket.