The morning sun of Hyderabad filtered through the curtains of the Deva household, but the temperature inside the living room was already rising—not from the heat, but from the sheer, restless energy of Vikram Deva.
It was June 25, 2009. The day of the State Felicitation.
Vikram sat on the sofa, dressed impeccably in a crisp, cream-colored formal shirt and dark trousers, his hair combed with military precision. He had been ready since 8:00 AM. It was now 9:30 AM. The ceremony wasn't until 11:00 AM.
He stared at the TV, where a local Telugu news channel was already running a ticker: "CM YSR to felicitate World Cup Hero Siddanth Deva at LB Stadium today."
Arjun walked in, wearing a sharp semi-formal shirt, looking every bit the budding manager.
"Good morning, Uncle!" Arjun beamed. "Ready for the big day?"
Vikram pointed a remote at the TV to mute it, a scowl on his face that didn't quite reach his eyes. "I have been ready, Arjun. I am ready. But apparently, in this house, time is just a suggestion."
Arjun sat down next to him, suppressing a grin. "Where are they? Aunty and Sid?"
"In the Bermuda Triangle," Vikram grumbled, gesturing towards the hallway. "They went into their rooms an hour ago. No sound since. I suspect they have escaped through a window."
He checked his watch for the fiftieth time. "It is 9:35. Traffic at Lakdikapul will be terrible. We will be late. The Chief Minister will be waiting, and we will be stuck behind an RTC bus."
Arjun chuckled. "Uncle, it's the CM. The police will clear the traffic for Sid. Don't worry."
"Discipline, Arjun. Discipline is key. Whether it is cricket or a function. Go, tell them. If I go, I will start shouting."
"On it, Uncle."
Arjun walked down the hallway to Siddanth's room. The door was ajar.
Siddanth was standing in front of the mirror, adjusting the collar of his blazer. He looked sharp.
"Hey, Mr. Hollywood," Arjun said, leaning against the doorframe.
Siddanth turned, smiling. "Hey. Dad sent you?"
"He's about to explode," Arjun laughed. "He's counting seconds out there. He says he's been ready since sunrise."
Siddanth chuckled, shaking his head. "I heard him grumbling. He woke up at 6 AM, shaved twice, and ironed a shirt that was already ironed. I told him the event starts at 11, and it's a twenty-minute drive, but... you know him."
"He's excited," Arjun said. "It's a big deal. YSR is coming."
"I know. I'm ready." Siddanth picked up his sunglasses. "Let's go save the roof from being blown off."
They walked back into the living room.
"Finally!" Vikram threw his hands up. "The Prince emerges!"
"I was ready ten minutes ago, Nanna," Siddanth said calmly. "I was just waiting for Amma."
"Sesi!" Vikram shouted towards the bedroom door. "Come out! The boy is ready! The car is ready! Even the government is probably ready!"
The bedroom door clicked open.
Sesikala stepped out.
She looked radiant. She was wearing a heavy Kanjeevaram silk saree in a deep royal blue—matching the India team colours—with a gold border. Her hair was neatly tied back with jasmine flowers, and she wore the gold necklace Siddanth had bought her with his first IPL check.
She looked at Vikram, her expression calm and imperious.
"Why are you shouting?" she asked, adjusting her pallu.
"We are late!" Vikram sputtered. "I have been sitting here for two hours!"
Sesikala walked to the centre of the room. "Yes, you have been sitting. Because you woke up, drank the coffee I made, ate the idlis I steamed, and put on the clothes I washed and ironed yesterday. Meanwhile, I cleaned the house, did the puja for your son's safety, cooked lunch so we don't starve when we come back, and then got ready."
She raised an eyebrow.
"Beauty takes time, Vikram. And running a house takes even more time. So sit down and drink some water."
The room went silent.
Siddanth bit his lip, turning away to hide his laughter. Arjun stared at the ceiling, his shoulders shaking.
Vikram opened his mouth to argue, closed it, and then slumped back onto the sofa.
"Okay," he muttered. "Okay. You look... very nice, Sesi."
"Thank you," she said regally. "Now we can go."
Siddanth caught Arjun's eye. Mom: 1, Dad: 0.
Vikram saw them smirking. He glared at them with mock ferocity. "Don't laugh. You wait until you are married. Then we will see."
They wiped the smiles off their faces instantly. "Yes, Nanna. Serious face."
---
They piled into the car.
Arjun took the wheel. Siddanth sat beside him, sunglasses on. Vikram and Sesikala sat in the back.
"Stop at Sameer's house," Siddanth said. "The boys are waiting."
They drove two streets over. A second car, a Scorpio, was waiting there. Ravi, Sameer, and Feroz were leaning against it, dressed in their best clothes.
They waved as Siddanth's car passed. They jumped into the Scorpio and fell in behind.
A two-car convoy rolling out of Mehdipatnam.
The drive to Lal Bahadur Shastri Stadium was smooth.
As they approached the stadium gates, crowds were already gathering. People waved at the cars. The security guards snapped to attention, opening the heavy iron gates.
---
The car stopped at the VIP entrance.
Siddanth stepped out. The flashbulbs started immediately.
He helped his mother out.
Waiting to receive them were the State Sports Minister and several local dignitaries.
"Welcome, Siddanth garu. Welcome," the Minister said, shaking his hand.
They walked into the stadium complex. It wasn't on the field; it was in the indoor auditorium, which was packed to the rafters.
Siddanth was ushered to the front row.
Sitting there, looking cool in a black shirt and jeans, was Venkatesh Daggubati. The Tollywood superstar.
Venkatesh stood up immediately, his famous smile wide.
"Hey! Champion!" Venkatesh boomed, grabbing Siddanth's hand.
"Hello, sir," Siddanth smiled. "Big fan."
"No, no, I am the fan today!" Venkatesh laughed. "That 188? Madness! I was jumping on my sofa! You made us all proud, man. Hyderabad pride!"
They chatted for a few minutes about cricket. Venkatesh knew his stats. He asked about the pitch at Lord's, about the pressure. It was a genuine interaction between two stars who respected each other's craft.
Then, the hush descended. Security tightened.
Dr. Y.S. Rajasekhara Reddy (YSR), the Chief Minister of Andhra Pradesh, entered the hall.
He walked with his signature swagger, wearing his white shirt and dhoti, a smile on his face that charmed millions.
He walked straight to Siddanth.
Siddanth stood up to touch his feet, but YSR stopped him and pulled him into a hug.
"You did it, babu," YSR said, his voice booming. "You beat Pakistan. That is what we wanted."
The ceremony began.
Speeches were made. The Sports Minister spoke about infrastructure. Venkatesh spoke about passion.
Then YSR took the podium.
"Today," YSR began, "Andhra Pradesh stands tall. A boy from our soil went to England and conquered the world."
The crowd cheered.
"Siddanth Deva has shown that talent and hard work have no boundaries. He is an inspiration to every youth in this state. Don't just study engineering; play sports! Bring glory to the nation!"
He paused, looking at Siddanth.
"But the job is not done. 2011. The World Cup is coming to India. Siddanth, I want you to win that one too. I want to see you lift the trophy."
Siddanth nodded firmly from his seat.
"To honor his achievement," YSR announced, "The Government of Andhra Pradesh is pleased to award a cash prize of 50 Lakh Rupees."
Applause.
"And," YSR continued, "We are allotting 2 Acres of land in Shamshabad, near the new International Airport."
The crowd went wild.
Siddanth kept his face composed, but his mind did a somersault.
Shamshabad.
In 2009, it was developing. In his timeline, that land was gold dust. It was the future IT corridor, the logistics hub. Two acres there would be worth hundreds of crores in the future.
It was a generational wealth gift.
Siddanth walked up to the stage. He accepted the giant cheque and the land documents.
He took the microphone.
"Thank you, Chief Minister, sir. Thank you to the government. This support means everything."
He looked at his parents in the front row.
"I wouldn't be here without my parents. My father, who taught me discipline. My mother, who..." he smiled, "removes the evil eye and feeds me kheer. And my friends, who treated me like a star even when I was nobody. This is for Hyderabad. Jai Hind."
---
The ceremony concluded with a high tea. Siddanth shook a thousand hands.
By 2:00 PM, they managed to extract themselves. They drove to the Taj Krishna in Banjara Hills, where Arjun had booked a small conference room for the private reception and the business meeting.
The family relaxed in the suite, eating a late lunch.
"Shamshabad," Vikram said, looking at the documents. "It is far, Siddu. Rocky land. Maybe we sell it later?"
"No, Nanna," Siddanth said, sipping water. "We keep it. Trust me. We build a fence, we plant some trees, and we wait. That land is our future."
At 3:00 PM, there was a knock on the door.
Arjun stood up, buttoning his blazer. "Showtime."
Two men walked in. Dressed in sharp suits, carrying leather briefcases.
They were from Deccan Cements, one of the biggest industrial conglomerates in South India.
"Mr. Deva," the senior executive said. "Mr. Arjun. Thank you for meeting us."
They sat down.
"We won't beat around the bush," the executive said. "We want Siddanth Deva. You are the face of strength. You bowl fast, you hit hard. Our tagline is 'Stronger than Time'. It fits."
Arjun took the lead. He looked calm, professional.
"The brand fit is good," Arjun said. "Deccan is a legacy brand. Siddanth is a legacy player in the making. But let's talk about the commitment. Siddanth's schedule is tight. We can offer 3 days of shooting per year, plus social media rights."
"We want 5 days," the executive countered. "And billboard rights across South India."
"3 days," Siddanth interjected smoothly. "I need to train. If I don't train, I don't play. If I don't play, your billboards are useless."
The executive paused, then nodded. "Fair point. 3 days."
"Now, the commercials," Arjun said, sliding a piece of paper across the table.
The executive looked at the number. He blinked.
"This is... significantly higher than what we pay movie stars."
"Siddanth isn't a movie star," Arjun said, leaning forward. "Movie stars act like heroes. Siddanth is a hero. He just won a World Cup with a hat-trick against Pakistan. That emotion? You can't buy that with a movie ticket. You are buying a piece of history."
The executive looked at his colleague. They whispered.
Siddanth sat back, checking his watch, calmness radiating off him. He didn't need the money, and that gave him all the leverage.
"Okay," the executive said. "We agree to the base fee. 2 Crores for 2 years. But we want a performance clause. If you win the 2011 World Cup, we will extend for another 2 years at double the rate."
Siddanth smiled. He extended his hand.
"You better start printing the new contract now, sir. Because we are winning that Cup."
They shook hands.
The deal was signed.
2 Crores.
Added to the BCCI rewards and the land.
Siddanth Deva was now not just a cricketing powerhouse; he was a financial entity
As the executives left, Arjun collapsed onto the sofa, loosening his tie.
"Dude. My heart was beating so fast. Did I do good?"
"You did great, Mr. Manager," Siddanth laughed. "Two crores. Not bad for a day's work."
Siddanth walked to the window, looking out at the Hussain Sagar lake shimmering in the distance.
The land in Shamshabad. The stocks in the market. The contract with Deccan.
The foundation was laid.
Now, he could focus on what mattered.
Cricket.
And the road to Wankhede, 2011.