By the time Arjun was twelve, word had spread quietly through the cricket circles of Andhra Pradesh. "The boy from Guntur" was different. Not explosive. Not brash. Not loud. But the way he read a game—like a map he'd memorized before stepping onto it—made him a problem most captains didn't want to deal with.
The state selection committee didn't like problems. They preferred players who fit predictable molds, who swung hard, ran faster, and asked few questions. They certainly didn't like players who corrected fields before bowlers even realized the gaps.
When Arjun's name appeared on the list for under-14 trials in Vijayawada, whispers had already traveled ahead of him. Some coaches scoffed: Too thin, too quiet, too young to matter. Others were uneasy, sensing the danger he represented—control, not talent.
During the trials, Arjun noticed everything. Not just the wickets, but the committee members' tendencies. One selector tapped his foot whenever someone hit a boundary. Another whispered notes only when a bowler overstepped. He memorized the order in which the committee would vote.
When it came time for a fielding drill, the captain assigned him at cover. Arjun noticed the bowler was nervous and expected an edge. He positioned himself a step wider, a step forward, knowing exactly where the ball would ricochet. He caught it cleanly.
A few committee members blinked.
The senior captain, proud of his five-foot-six frame and aggressive shots, glared. "Lucky," he muttered.
Arjun didn't react. He wasn't lucky. He was prepared. And the more the senior captain tried to intimidate him, the more precise Arjun became.
At the end of the day, the committee huddled. Murmurs ran like currents in water. Some wanted to select him outright. Others warned: Too strange. Might disrupt team harmony.
When the votes were counted, Arjun's name topped the list. Quietly. Not a word from him. No celebration. Just a nod, as if acknowledging the inevitability of what had already been written.
He returned home to Guntur that evening, rain glinting off the red soil streets, and felt a strange satisfaction. The first system had bent—without anyone noticing who bent it.