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Kane Williamson stood at mid-off, his hands resting on his hips, his usually calm demeanor fractured by the smallest hint of a frown.
He had tried pace. Boult had taken out Rohit. He had tried spin. Santner had dismissed Kohli. But right now, the two twenty-something phenoms at the crease were entirely dismantling his perfectly calculated blueprints. Aarav Pathak had just violently shifted gears, taking thirty-three runs off two overs, and Wankhede Stadium was vibrating with a terrifying, rhythmic energy.
Williamson needed pace back. Not the swinging variety, but pure, unadulterated, bone-rattling pace. He signaled to Lockie Ferguson.
"Here comes the enforcer," Shane Watson noted on the VEO broadcast, the camera zooming in on Ferguson's thick mustache and intense eyes. "Kane Williamson is pulling the panic cord just a fraction. He's holding Trent Boult and Tim Southee for the death overs, which could be the right call. So, Lockie has to break this partnership now, before it gets mathematically impossible to chase."
Over 22.1: Ferguson steamed in, hitting the crease hard, and unleashed a 151 kmph thunderbolt aimed at the top of off-stump.
Shubman Gill was on strike. The young opener didn't try to match Aarav's brutal violence. Instead, he relied on pure, silken geometry. Gill leaned forward, opened the face of his bat at the absolute last microsecond, and guided the 151 kmph missile perfectly between backward point and short third man. It raced to the ropes for four.
"Oh, the class of the man!" Sunil Gavaskar purred into the microphone. "That is not power; that is just redirecting the pace. Lockie Ferguson brings the fire, and Shubman Gill just douses it with absolute elegance!"
22.2: Ferguson, frustrated, dug it in short. Gill rolled his wrists, pulled it firmly into the deep square leg region, and immediately called, "Two, Pathak! Two!"
Aarav was already halfway down the pitch. They sprinted, turning a comfortable single into a frantic double, putting immense pressure on the deep fielder.
"This is the phase that breaks fielding teams," Ricky Ponting analyzed. "It's not just the boundaries. It's the telepathic understanding between these two. They have grown up playing together from U-19 days. They know each other's stride lengths. They are turning ones into twos, completely messing with the bowler's rhythm."
For the next five overs, the Wankhede crowd was treated to a masterclass in modern ODI batting. It wasn't the blind, destructive slogging of a T20 match; it was the calculated, suffocating flow of two elite batters in complete control of their environment.
Williamson tried everything. He brought Mitchell Santner back from the Tata End to regain control. Aarav simply stepped out, neutralizing the spin, and drove him flawlessly along the carpet to long-off for a single, handing the strike back to Gill.
Gill, in turn, would rock back and punch the spinners through the covers, or gently tuck Lockie Ferguson off his hips for easy rotation.
Over 26.3: Williamson threw the ball to his part-timer, Glenn Phillips, hoping the golden arm would provide a miracle.
Phillips bowled a flat, quick off-break. Aarav, sitting beautifully on 78, didn't even bother hitting it in the air. He went deep into his crease and slapped it brutally hard through the extra cover region. The ball scorched the dry grass. Four runs.
26.4: Phillips tossed it up, inviting the big shot. Aarav obliged, but with immense control. He slog-swept it flat and hard. The ball cleared the deep mid-wicket boundary by just five meters, landing safely in the first tier for a six.
"He is playing with them now!" Ian Smith's voice echoed with sympathetic despair for his countrymen. "Glenn Phillips is just fodder for the Prince. The run rate has quietly crept over seven and a half. It's methodical carnage. They are boiling New Zealand alive like a frog in a pot."
Up in the VVIP suite, the atmosphere was euphoric.
Sara Tendulkar was no longer biting her nails. She was leaning over the glass barricade, cheering loudly every time Gill placed the ball into a gap. Beside her, Shradha was matching her energy, clapping enthusiastically as Aarav rotated the strike.
Priya Pathak sat gracefully, a serene smile on her face, occasionally exchanging words with Nita Ambani. She had seen her husband build a global empire through ruthless efficiency, and right now, she was watching her son apply that exact same philosophy on a cricket pitch.
"Two hundred comes up for India!" Harsha Bhogle announced as Gill flicked Ravindra for a single in the 28th over. "And look at the scoreboard, ladies and gentlemen. Two hundred for two in just the 28th over. The launchpad is not just built; it is gleaming with rocket fuel."
Over 29.0: Williamson, completely out of options for the middle overs, was forced to bring Tim Southee back earlier than he wanted. He couldn't wait for the death overs; he needed a wicket now.
Southee, the wily veteran, ran in to bowl the 29th over.
29.1: He bowled a brilliant, disguised slower cutter to Aarav. But Aarav was operating on a different wavelength. He waited an eternity for the ball to arrive, kept his shape, and lofted it majestically straight back over Southee's head. It wasn't a monstrous hit; it was purely timed. One bounce, over the ropes for four.
Aarav moves to 89.
29.2: Southee pushed it wide. Aarav slashed it to deep point for a single. Aarav moves to 90.
29.3: Gill on strike. Southee bowled a back-of-a-length delivery on the stumps. Gill executed his trademark, short-arm jab pull shot. The ball rocketed to the mid-wicket boundary. Four more.
Gill moves to 78.
"They are finding the boundary every single over," Ian Bishop noted, the awe unmistakable in his tone. "Southee is one of the smartest bowlers in the world, and he has absolutely nowhere to hide. This partnership is now worth 135 runs, and it has come in absolutely no time."
Over 30.0: The scoreboard read 219/2. Mitchell Santner was brought in to bowl his 8th over, looking exhausted. The heat and the relentless pressure were taking their toll on the Kiwis. Trent Boult was pacing on the boundary rope, waiting for his final spell.
30.1: Santner bowled a dart on the pads. Gill tucked it away for a quick single. Gill moves to 82.
The noise inside Wankhede instantly spiked by several decibels. The crowd knew exactly who was on strike, and they knew exactly what number he was on.
Aarav Pathak - 92.
"Listen to this crowd," Ravi Shastri's voice dropped to a dramatic rumble. "They know. The Prince is eight runs away from a World Cup semi-final century in his home city. The anticipation is so thick you could cut it with a knife."
30.2: Santner tossed it up, hoping to deceive Aarav in the flight. Aarav stepped out, his footwork incredibly light. He didn't try to clear the stadium. He played a breathtaking inside-out lofted drive over extra cover. The placement was sublime. It bounced once just inside the boundary cushion. Four runs.
"Glorious!" Gavaskar cheered. "Absolute perfection! He didn't use power; he just used the angles! Moves to 96!"
30.3: Santner, panicking slightly, bowled it flat and wide. Aarav punched it securely to deep sweeper cover. He wanted two, but the fielder was quick. He settled for a single.
Aarav moves to 97.
30.4: Gill pushed the ball softly to mid-on and took a quick single, giving the strike back to Aarav.
Gill moves to 83.
30.5: Aarav on 97. Santner fired it in at 95 kmph, aiming for the toes. Aarav dug it out masterfully, pushing it down to long-on for a comfortable single.
Aarav moves to 98.
30.6: Gill defended the final ball of the over to retain the strike for the next.
As the umpire signaled the end of the 31st over, a graphic flashed on the global VEO broadcast, causing a collective intake of breath from millions of viewers around the world.
MATCH SCORECARD - ICC CWC 2023
SEMI-FINAL 1: INDIA vs NEW ZEALANDVenue: Wankhede Stadium, Mumbai
INDIA - 227/2 (31.0 Overs)(Current Run Rate: 7.32)
BATTERS:
Aarav Pathak: 98* (72 balls) | 9x4, 4x6 | SR: 136.11
Shubman Gill: 83* (77 balls) | 10x4, 0x6 | SR: 107.79
Every single camera lens in the stadium was locked onto the man wearing the number 4 jersey.
Up in the VVIP box, Shradha Tendulkar was entirely still, her hands clasped tightly together, her eyes unblinking as she stared at the giant screen. Beside her, Sachin Tendulkar, the man with a hundred international centuries, leaned forward, completely captivated by the young man poised to create history.
Down on the pitch, Aarav stood at the non-striker's end, leaning on his MRF bat. Sweat was dripping from the rim of his helmet. He took a deep, stabilizing breath, looking up at the sweltering Mumbai sky.
"Ninety-eight," Harsha Bhogle whispered into the microphone, perfectly narrating the immense gravity of the moment. "Thirty-one overs gone. Nineteen overs still remain. Shubman Gill is cruising beautifully on 83. But the world has stopped for just one man. Two runs away from immortality at the Wankhede."
Kane Williamson threw the ball to Lockie Ferguson.
The Everest was almost built. Now, the Prince just needed to plant the flag.
------------
Lockie Ferguson stood at the top of his mark, rolling his shoulders, trying to shake off the oppressive heat and the sheer, suffocating weight of the Wankhede crowd.
Kane Williamson had thrown him the ball with a singular, desperate mandate: Break the partnership. Get Aarav or Gill.
Shubman Gill, sitting serenely on 83 from 77 deliveries, took his guard. Everyone in the stadium, including Ferguson, expected Gill to rotate the strike. Give the ball to the Prince. Let the man on 98 reach his century.
"Lockie Ferguson from the Tata End," Ian Smith announced on the global broadcast, the tension thick in his throat. "He has pace. He has aggression. But he is bowling to two men who seem to be operating in a completely different dimension right now."
Over 31.1: Ferguson steamed in, hitting the crease hard, and bowled a 148 kmph delivery pitched right up on the middle stump.
Gill didn't try to flick it for a single. He stayed perfectly still, opening the face of his CEAT bat just a fraction of a second before impact, and executed a flawless, lofted straight drive. It wasn't hit with violent power; it was pure, unadulterated timing. The ball sailed over the umpire's head, soaring majestically over the sightscreen for a spectacular straight six.
"Oh, hello!" Ravi Shastri's baritone voice boomed through the speakers. "Where did that come from?! We were all waiting for Aarav Pathak, and Shubman Gill says, 'Don't forget about me!' Absolute poetry deposited into the stands!"
Gill moves to 89.
31.2: Ferguson, instantly frustrated, dragged his length back slightly, aiming for the ribcage. Gill anticipated it brilliantly. In a flash, he danced down the track, completely destroying Ferguson's length. He met the ball at the pitch and effortlessly flicked it over the deep mid-wicket boundary. The ball landed ten rows deep into the ecstatic crowd.
"HE IS IN A HURRY NOW!" Ian Bishop roared. "Back-to-back maximums! That is the silken touch of Shubman Gill! He steps out to a 145-kilometer-per-hour fast bowler like he's facing a club spinner! This is an absolute nightmare for New Zealand!"
Gill moves to 95.
31.3: Ferguson lost his radar entirely. Panicking, he banged it in short and wide outside the off-stump, a high-bouncing delivery hoping to induce a top edge.
Gill, normally a player who relied on textbook horizontal bat shots, decided to show off his raw power. He rose on his toes, getting right on top of the bounce, and unleashed a ferocious, violent square cut. The crack of the bat echoed like a gunshot. The ball rocketed past the diving point fielder and slammed into the advertising boards before anyone could even blink.
"SHOT!" Sunil Gavaskar cheered loudly. "That is not touch; that is absolute, sheer power! He rarely plays that shot with such venom, but today, everything he touches turns to gold! Ferguson is being taken to the cleaners!"
Gill moves to 99.
Down at mid-off, Kane Williamson took off his black cap. He didn't yell. He didn't wave his hands. He simply placed the cap completely over his face, letting out a long, heavy sigh of pure exasperation. He was watching a video game being played on beginner mode.
31.4: Ferguson, completely demoralized, bowled a safe, back-of-a-length delivery on the pads.
Gill gently tucked it away into the vast, empty space at deep square leg.
"He's got it into the gap," Harsha Bhogle's voice softened, narrating the historic moment beautifully. "They jog the first. They don't even look back. The Prince and the Heir Apparent."
As Gill and Aarav crossed each other in the middle of the pitch to complete the single, they didn't just run past. Without breaking stride, they perfectly synchronized a loud, echoing high-five, grinning at each other.
"And there it is!" Bhogle announced as the crowd noise breached the threshold of pain. "A magnificent, flawless, absolutely pristine World Cup semi-final century for Shubman Gill! What a player! What a majestic knock!"
Gill grounded his bat at the non-striker's end. He immediately removed his helmet off. His face was drenched in sweat, but his smile was radiant. He raised his bat high, soaking in the standing ovation from the thousands of fans who were screaming his name.
Aarav jogged over, wrapping his best friend in a massive, bone-crushing bear hug, ruffling his sweaty hair. "Well played, Shub," Aarav yelled over the noise. "Unbelievable knock!"
Gill pulled away from the hug, his helmet tucked under his left arm. He turned his gaze away from the general crowd and locked eyes perfectly with the VVIP Presidential Suite behind the bowler's arm.
The VEO broadcast camera zoomed in close on Gill's face.
With a cheeky, massive grin, Gill brought his right hand to his lips and blew a highly deliberate, dramatic flying kiss directly toward the luxury box.
Instantly, the broadcast director, fully aware of the internet rumors, split the screen.
The other half of the screen showed the VVIP box. Sara Tendulkar, standing between her mother Anjali and Shradha, let out a joyous laugh. Her cheeks flushed a brilliant shade of crimson. Without hesitating, she raised her hands, miming a perfect "catching" motion to grab the flying kiss, pressing her hands to her heart with a massive, beaming smile.
The stadium DJ, possessing immaculate comedic timing, instantly blasted a romantic Bollywood track over the speakers.
The commentary box erupted into laughter.
"Oh, would you look at that!" Ravi Shastri chuckled heartily on the mic. "A kiss blown from the pitch, and safely caught in the VVIP box! I tell you what, there is nothing quite like young love, especially when you've just scored a World Cup hundred!"
"He has hit a century on the field, and he's definitely hit a century off it as well!" Ian Smith laughed, enjoying the sheer spectacle. "What a moment for the young man. The pressure of a billion people, and he still finds time for romance!"
Within sixty seconds of that split-screen broadcast, the internet completely, utterly broke. X (formerly Twitter) servers spiked as millions of tweets flooded the platform.
[TRENDING WORLDWIDE: #ShubmanGill #SaraTendulkar #IndvsNZ]
@CricketFanatic99:HE ACTUALLY DID IT! THE MADMAN DID IT ON LIVE TV! 😭❤️ THE RUMOURS WERE TRUE!!
@BleedBlueArmy:Bro just confirmed his relationship in a World Cup Semi-Final. The swagger is astronomical. #GillandGilly
@TechGeek:Let's recap Shubman Gill's life: He is incredibly handsome. He just scored a WC Semi-Final 100. His best friend is Aarav Pathak (literally God). His girlfriend is Sachin Tendulkar's daughter. God definitely has favorites. 😭
@MumbaiIndiansFan:Sara catching the kiss just broke my heart into a million pieces, but I am so happy for them! THE SaSu COUPLE IS OFFICIAL!
Down on the pitch, Aarav was laughing so hard he had to lean on his bat. Gill jogged back to the non-striker's end, putting his helmet back on, looking slightly embarrassed but incredibly happy.
"You're going to trend worldwide for the next month, you idiot," Aarav yelled over the pitch, still grinning.
"Worth it," Gill yelled back, tapping his bat. "Now get your hundred, Seth!"
The romantic interlude faded, instantly replaced by a thick, suffocating tension that gripped the Wankhede once again.
The giant screen flashed the scoreboard.
INDIA - 244/2 (31.4 Overs)
The camera panned away from Gill and locked onto the man standing at the striker's end.
Lockie Ferguson stood at the top of his mark, ready to bowl the fifth ball of the over.
Aarav Pathak tapped his MRF bat against the dry Mumbai earth. He adjusted his gloves. He looked around the field, his dark eyes calculating, cold, and entirely focused.
Aarav Pathak - 98.
"Right then," Harsha Bhogle whispered into the microphone, beautifully capturing the sudden shift in gravity. "The romance is over. The celebrations are paused. The entire universe has just narrowed down to twenty-two yards. Lockie Ferguson has the ball. Aarav Pathak is on strike. Two runs away from immortality."
Aarav took a deep breath. He was ready.
----------
"Thirty-one point five," Ravi Shastri's baritone voice dropped to a dramatic, gravelly whisper on the VEO global broadcast. "Shubman Gill has just delivered a masterpiece. The romantic celebrations are over. We are back to the absolute apex of high-stakes cricket. Aarav Pathak, two runs away from a century that will shatter the Kiwi spirits entirely. Lockie Ferguson has to run in. He has nowhere to hide."
Aarav took a deep breath, inhaling the scent of the dry earth and the salty Arabian Sea breeze. He didn't look at the scoreboard. He didn't look at the fielders. He looked dead center at Ferguson's release point.
31.5: Ferguson steamed in, hitting the crease with an explosive, desperate leap. He didn't want to pitch it up. He didn't want to bowl short. He tried to bowl a safe, restrictive delivery on the pads at 149 kmph, hoping Aarav would just tuck it away for a single.
But you don't bowl on the pads to Aarav Pathak.
Aarav's footwork was a blur of pure, instinctual genius. He didn't just flick it; he whipped his wrists with terrifying, elastic power. The bat came down in a flawless arc, meeting the 149 kmph missile with a sound that cracked like a thunderbolt across South Mumbai.
The ball didn't just beat the infield; it completely bypassed the deep square leg and fine leg fielders, scorching the dry grass like a tracer bullet. It slammed violently into the advertising boards before the cameramen could even pan their lenses.
For a microsecond, the stadium held its breath as Umpire Richard Kettleborough signaled four.
And then, the eruption.
"SHOT! ABSOLUTELY SUBLIME!" Harsha Bhogle roared, his voice trembling with sheer awe as the Wankhede Stadium detonated into a 130-decibel shockwave. "HE DOES IT WITH A BOUNDARY! THE PRINCE CONQUERS HIS KINGDOM! A WORLD CUP SEMI-FINAL CENTURY FOR AARAV PATHAK!"
"Take a bow, young man! Take a bow!" Sunil Gavaskar cheered loudly from the commentary box. "What a flawless, destructive, beautiful innings! He came in when India had lost Rohit and Kohli. He absorbed the pressure, he rebuilt the innings, and then he completely annihilated the New Zealand bowling attack! This is not just a hundred; this is a declaration of absolute invincibility!"
Down on the pitch, Aarav completed his follow-through. He grounded his bat and calmly reached up, unclipping the heavy, sweat-drenched blue helmet.
As he pulled the helmet off, shaking out his dark hair, a massive VEO graphic took over screens around the entire planet, highlighting a statistical anomaly that defied human logic.
AARAV PATHAK - ICC CWC 2023 STATS
Matches: 10
Runs: 787
Average: 131.16
Strike Rate: 161.50
Centuries: 4
Highest Score: 142 (59) vs Pakistan
"Look at those numbers," Shane Watson exhaled, genuine disbelief lacing his tone as the graphic flashed. "Seven hundred and eighty-seven runs. A strike rate of nearly two hundred. Four centuries. This is the greatest individual World Cup campaign in the history of the sport. We are witnessing greatness that we may never, ever see again."
In the middle of the pitch, Aarav didn't do a wild, aggressive leap. He stood tall, looking around the rotating bowl of thousands screaming fans. He lowered his head, pressing his helmet to his chest, and executed his trademark, deeply respectful bow to the North Stand, then the South Stand.
But he wasn't done.
Aarav stood up, his dark eyes scanning the stadium, bypassing the sea of blue, bypassing the media boxes, until he locked dead onto the glass-paneled VVIP Presidential Suite behind the bowler's arm.
The VEO broadcast director, realizing exactly what was happening after Gill's earlier antics, instantly punched the button for a split-screen view.
On the left side of the screen: Aarav Pathak. On the right side of the screen: The VVIP box.
Aarav lifted his MRF bat. He didn't just point it. He executed a sharp, highly precise simple-style salute with the blade of the bat. Then, in one impossibly smooth, fluid motion, he brought the handle of the bat to his lips, kissed it deliberately, and pointed the tip of the bat directly at the VVIP box, mimicking a flying kiss straight off the blade.
It was arrogant. It was regal. It was absolute cinematic perfection.
On the right side of the split screen, the world finally saw the target.
Shradha Tendulkar.
She was standing right next to Priya Pathak and Sara Tendulkar. She was wearing Aarav's custom number 4 jersey, her hair cascading down her shoulders.
As Aarav's bat pointed directly at her, Shradha's eyes widened. A brilliant, furious blush instantly crept up her neck and coated her cheeks in a deep crimson. She let out a melodic, shy laugh, instinctively bringing a hand up to cover her face for a split second.
But then, the daughter of the God of Cricket recovered.
With a breathtaking, devastatingly beautiful smile that was instantly broadcast to over half a billion people, Shradha lowered her hand, pressed her fingers to her own lips, and blew a very clear, very deliberate flying kiss right back at the pitch.
For three seconds, the entire planet seemed to stop spinning.
The stadium DJ, caught completely off guard by the sheer magnitude of the moment, scrambled to hit the soundboard, blasting the chorus of a massive, triumphant Bollywood love anthem.
And then, the internet, the stadium, and the entire cricketing universe completely, utterly exploded.
If Gill's kiss to Sara was a tremor, Aarav's kiss to Shradha was a category-five planetary earthquake.
"OH MY WORD!" Ian Smith shrieked into the microphone, completely losing his mind in the commentary box. "HE HAS DONE IT TOO! THE PRINCE HAS JUST CONFIRMED THE BIGGEST RUMOR IN THE HISTORY OF INDIAN SPORTS!"
"I DO NOT BELIEVE THIS!" Ravi Shastri roared, laughing so hard he had to grab Harsha Bhogle's shoulder to stay upright. "THE MYSTERY GIRL IS REVEALED! AND WOULD YOU LOOK AT WHO IT IS?! IT IS SHRADHA TENDULKAR! THE DAUGHTER OF THE GREAT SACHIN TENDULKAR!"
"This is not a cricket match anymore, this is a Bollywood blockbuster!" Harsha Bhogle chimed in, his voice filled with pure, unadulterated joy. "The son of the Astra Empire. The Prince of Indian Cricket. And the youngest daughter of the Master Blaster! The royal families of Indian cricket and business have just united on live television in the middle of a World Cup Semi-Final!"
Up in the VVIP box, it was absolute chaos.
Priya Pathak, looking incredibly elegant and immensely proud, burst into laughter. She reached over and wrapped Shradha in a massive, affectionate hug, kissing the side of her head. Nita Ambani, standing next to them, was clapping enthusiastically, a huge smile on her face.
Behind them, Sachin Tendulkar was trying to maintain a stoic, neutral expression, his arms crossed over his chest. But the God of Cricket was fighting a losing battle. A massive, proud smirk broke through his composure as he shook his head, muttering something to David Beckham, who was laughing right beside him.
Down in the Indian dressing room, the reaction was pure, unfiltered comedy.
Virat Kohli, standing on the balcony, was physically leaning over the railing, pointing at the giant screen and howling with laughter. He turned to Rohit Sharma, who was shaking his head, trying to hide a massive grin behind his hand.
Within ninety seconds, the servers at X (formerly Twitter), Instagram, and Reddit suffered catastrophic load spikes.
[TRENDING WORLDWIDE]
#AaravShradha
#TheRoyalWedding
#PrinceAndPrincess
#SachinTendulkar
#IndvsNZ
@BCCI_Insider:SHRADHA TENDULKAR?! THE MYSTERY GIRL WAS SHRADHA TENDULKAR ALL ALONG?! AARAV PATHAK YOU ABSOLUTE LEGEND! THIS IS THE GREATEST REVEAL IN HISTORY! 😭🔥
@CricketCrazy007:Aarav really just said, "Hold my beer Gill, let me show you how to break the internet." HE SALUTED HER WITH THE BAT! I AM SCREAMING!
@TechGeek:Let me get this straight. Aarav Pathak is the best player in the world. His dad owns half the country. And he is marrying Sachin Tendulkar's daughter. HE WON LIFE. THE GAME IS OVER. HE HAS COMPLETED THE SIMULATION.
@AnushkaFanClub:Look at Virat's reaction in the dressing room!! 🤣🤣 He is making fun of Aarav so badly! The vibes in this team are immaculate!
@KiwiCricketFan:I am sitting here stressed about Lockie Ferguson's economy rate, and the entire Indian team is basically starring in a romantic comedy. We have lost. It's over.
Down on the pitch, Aarav was trying and failing to suppress a massive smile. He put his helmet back on, adjusting his chin strap to hide his flushed face.
Shubman Gill walked down the pitch from the non-striker's end. He didn't offer a high-five. He simply wrapped his arms around Aarav, pulling him into a tight, brotherly hug.
"You stole my thunder, you absolute bastard," Gill laughed into Aarav's ear over the deafening crowd noise.
"You started it, Shub," Aarav shot back, pulling away and tapping Gill's chest plate with his bat. "I just finished it."
Umpire Richard Illingworth walked over, a highly amused smile on his face. "Are we quite finished with the romance, gentlemen? We do have a World Cup semi-final to finish."
"Yes, sir. Apologies, sir," Aarav grinned, touching his helmet respectfully.
Aarav walked back to the crease. The romantic interlude, however brief, had completely shattered the tension. The crowd was no longer nervous; they were in a state of absolute, euphoric celebration. The Wankhede was a carnival.
But Lockie Ferguson was not smiling.
The Kiwi fast bowler was humiliated. He had just been hit for a boundary to bring up a century, and the batsman hadn't even acknowledged him, instead choosing to blow kisses to the VIP box. Ferguson was seething.
31.6: Ferguson charged in for the final ball of the over, abandoning all plans of line and length. He wanted to hurt Aarav. He bowled a 152 kmph, short-pitched bouncer, aimed directly at Aarav's throat.
It was a hostile, angry delivery.
"Ferguson responds with raw pace!" Ian Bishop noted, his voice instantly snapping back to cricket.
But Aarav was operating on a level of confidence that defied human limits. He had just hit a World Cup semi-final century. He had just revealed the love of his life to the world. He felt completely, utterly invincible.
Aarav didn't duck. He didn't sway.
His weight shifted to his back foot in a fraction of a millisecond. He kept his eyes completely locked onto the 152 kmph leather missile. With a violent, majestic swivel of his hips, Aarav executed a pull shot of horrifying, devastating power.
The CRACK of the bat was sickeningly loud.
The ball didn't just go into the stands. It was launched into the dark, humid Mumbai sky with a flat, terrifying trajectory. It soared over the deep square leg boundary, clearing the first tier, clearing the second tier, and crashing violently into the corrugated iron roof of the stadium.
"OH, GOODNESS ME!" Ravi Shastri screamed, completely losing his voice. "HE HAS SENT THAT TO CHURCHGATE STATION! THAT IS NOT JUST A SIX, THAT IS A STATEMENT OF PURE VIOLENCE! LOCKIE FERGUSON TRIES TO BOUNCE THE PRINCE, AND THE PRINCE HAS ABSOLUTELY DESTROYED HIM!"
"That is one of the biggest sixes I have ever seen at the Wankhede!" Sunil Gavaskar added, his voice trembling. "He didn't just hit it, he punished it! What a way to end the over!"
Aarav held his pose for a brief second, his bat raised high, staring dead into Lockie Ferguson's eyes. He didn't say a single word. He didn't need to.
The scoreboard updated.
INDIA - 254/2 (32.0 Overs)
BATTERS:
Aarav Pathak: 108* (74 balls) | 10x4, 5x6
Shubman Gill: 100* (78 balls) | 10x4, 2x6
"Eighteen overs remain," Harsha Bhogle whispered over the broadcast, perfectly summarizing the impending doom for New Zealand. "Two men at the crease, both with hundreds to their names. Both deeply in love, both deeply in form, and both completely devoid of mercy. If you are Kane Williamson, you must be looking at the sky, wondering what on earth you can possibly do to stop this."
Down on the pitch, Aarav tapped gloves with Gill.
The declarations of love were over. Now, it was time to build a target that would haunt New Zealand for the rest of their lives.
-------------------
The romantic tremors that had completely shattered the internet mere minutes ago were entirely forgotten by the time Trent Boult marked his run-up for the 34th over.
The Wankhede Stadium was no longer a Bollywood set; it was an abattoir.
New Zealand had tried pace, they had tried spin, they had tried short balls, and they had tried yorkers. Nothing worked. The Indian batters were operating on a plane of existence that completely defied cricketing logic.
"I have been watching this game for a very long time," Ian Smith's voice echoed through the VEO broadcast, laced with a potent mixture of awe and absolute despair for his countrymen. "And I don't think I have ever seen two players dismantle an international bowling attack with such synchronized, ruthless efficiency. Boult, Ferguson, Santner... they are not bowling badly. They are just bowling to two anomalies of nature."
Over 36.0: Mitchell Santner, practically dragging his feet to the crease, tossed the ball up. Aarav Pathak didn't even bother stepping out. He sat deep in his crease, cleared his front leg, and executed a terrifyingly flat, inside-out lofted drive. It scorched the grass, pinging off the advertising boards at extra cover.
Aarav moves to 142.
36.4: Shubman Gill, not wanting to be left behind, elegantly danced down the track to Glenn Phillips. He didn't hit it hard; he just caressed it over long-on with a swing so aesthetically perfect it belonged in a museum. Six runs.
Gill moves to 128.
By the time the 38th over concluded, the score had skyrocketed to 322/2. The run rate was hovering near nine, and Kane Williamson looked physically exhausted, his hands resting on his knees at mid-off.
"They are batting in two different time zones," Ricky Ponting analyzed brilliantly. "Gill is playing a classical, test-match style innings that just happens to be moving at 140 strike rate. And Aarav... Aarav is playing a video game. He is predicting the lengths before the bowler even releases the ball."
Over 39.0: Tim Southee was brought back. The veteran Kiwi pacer knew pace on the ball was suicide. He resorted to wide, slow cutters.
39.2: Southee bowled a brilliant 118 kmph off-cutter, wide outside off. Aarav, sitting on 155, had to fetch it. He dragged it from outside off-stump, utilizing his terrifying wrist power to swat it over the deep mid-wicket boundary for a colossal 98-meter six.
The stadium erupted as the giant screen flashed the milestone.
AARAV PATHAK - 150 RUNS
Aarav didn't take off his helmet. He just raised his bat, offering a quick, focused nod to the VIP box, his eyes briefly meeting Shradha's, before tapping the pitch again.
"One hundred and fifty for the Prince of Mumbai!" Ravi Shastri boomed. "He crossed 142 against Pakistan, and he has surpassed it here in a World Cup Semi-Final! He is hungry for a double! Southee has absolutely no answers!"
39.3: Southee, desperate, dug it in short. A slow bouncer at 122 kmph. Aarav read it perfectly. He swiveled to pull, putting every ounce of his core strength into the shot.
But the sweltering Mumbai heat and the sheer physical exertion of the last two hours finally took a microscopic toll. His bat turned in his hands just a fraction of a millimeter upon impact.
The ball rocketed off the bat, soaring high into the humid air, aiming for the deep square leg boundary.
"In the air!" Harsha Bhogle cried out. "Has he got enough on it? It's a massive boundary there..."
Trent Boult, stationed at deep square leg, backpedaled furiously. He kept his eyes locked on the descending white orb, timed his jump to absolute perfection, and plucked it out of the sky with both hands, his momentum carrying him just inches away from the boundary cushion.
The Wankhede fell into a stunned silence for exactly two seconds.
"CAUGHT!" Ian Bishop yelled. "BOUlt takes the catch! The sheer athleticism on the boundary rope! The Prince tries to clear the ropes once too often, and the slower ball does the trick! New Zealand finally, finally have a breakthrough!"
Down on the pitch, Aarav held his pose for a second, sighed, and tucked his bat under his arm.
As he began the walk back to the pavilion, the silence evaporated, replaced by a standing ovation that physically shook the stadium. people stood on their feet. Sachin Tendulkar, David Beckham, Nita Ambani, and Priya Pathak were all standing in the VIP box, applauding relentlessly.
"Walk off, young man. Walk off to the applause of a grateful nation," Sunil Gavaskar said softly, genuine emotion in his voice. "161 runs. 96 deliveries. 18 fours, 9 towering sixes. It is an innings of absolute, terrifying brutality. He has broken the back of the Blackcaps."
Score: 337/3 (39.3 Overs)
As Aarav climbed the steps, high-fiving the support staff, a new figure emerged from the dressing room. He didn't walk; he strutted. His collar was popped, a thick gold chain glinting against his chest, chewing gum with aggressive intent.
"Oh, hello," Shane Watson chuckled. "Look at this. No Shreyas Iyer. No KL Rahul. Rahul Dravid and Rohit Sharma have decided that 337 in the 40th over is not enough. They have sent in the designated hitter."
"Hardik Pandya," Ravi Shastri roared as the all-rounder walked to the crease. "Promoted up the order! License to kill! Ten overs remain, and India wants 450!"
Pandya tapped gloves with Gill, who was drenched in sweat but looking incredibly determined on 135.
Over 40.1: Hardik took strike against Southee. First ball. A back-of-a-length slower delivery. Hardik cleared his front leg instantly and unleashed a flat, baseball-style swat down the ground. It screamed past Southee's head and crashed into the advertising boards. Four runs.
"He means business!" Jatin Sapru yelled.
For the next five overs, the Wankhede witnessed a different kind of carnage. With Aarav gone, Shubman Gill seamlessly transitioned from the elegant anchor to the ruthless aggressor.
Gill took a special liking to Lockie Ferguson.
Over 44.2: Ferguson bowled a 148 kmph yorker. Gill opened the face of the bat and squeezed it past short third man for four. 44.3: Ferguson banged it in short. Gill played a ferocious, short-arm jab pull that deposited the ball into the North Stand.
Gill moves to 164.
"He is playing an absolute blinder here!" Ian Smith exclaimed. "We talk about Rohit, we talk about Kohli, we talk about Aarav. But Shubman Gill is quietly constructing a masterpiece! He is striking at over 150 now, and he looks like he hasn't even broken a sweat!"
At the other end, Hardik Pandya was treating the New Zealand spinners with utter disdain, launching Mitchell Santner for two massive sixes over long-on.
Over 46.0: The score was 402/3. India had breached the 400-run mark in a World Cup Semi-Final.
Lockie Ferguson ran in for his final over, utterly exhausted. He bowled a wide, full delivery.
Gill, battling severe cramps in the sweltering heat, threw his hands at it. He wanted to go over point, but his tired legs couldn't quite get into position. The ball took the thick outside edge and flew straight down the throat of Daryl Mitchell at deep third man.
"Caught!" Harsha Bhogle announced. "A brilliant, brilliant innings comes to an end! Shubman Gill is completely spent! He tried to slash it away but finds the fielder!"
Gill leaned heavily on his bat for a moment, taking a deep breath. He took off his helmet, his hair plastered to his forehead with sweat. As he walked off, the Wankhede rose once again.
Gill raised his bat, his eyes finding the VIP box. Sara Tendulkar was standing at the glass barricade, clapping so hard her hands must have hurt, a look of pure, unadulterated pride on her face. Gill offered a tired, genuine smile and walked into the dressing room.
"173 runs," Ricky Ponting read the graphic, shaking his head. "From 112 balls. 20 boundaries, 6 sixes. It is one of the greatest World Cup semi-final knocks of all time, completely overshadowed only because the man before him scored 161 at a strike rate of 167. These two young men have immortalized themselves today."
Score: 415/4 (46.2 Overs)
"Twenty-two balls remaining," Ian Bishop's booming voice returned. "And out walks Shreyas Iyer. If you are a Kiwi bowler, you must be wondering what sins you committed in a past life."
Shreyas Iyer walked to the crease, joining Hardik Pandya. There was no time to settle. There was only time to swing.
And swing they did.
The final four overs were an absolute massacre of line, length, and morale. Trent Boult, normally a death-overs specialist, was launched into the Arabian Sea by Hardik Pandya's signature helicopter shot.
Shreyas Iyer, facing Tim Southee, used the crease brilliantly, shuffling across and ramping the fast bowler over fine leg for consecutive sixes.
The scoreboard ticked over with the speed of a slot machine paying out a jackpot.
430... 450... 470...
Over 49.6: The final ball of the innings. Trent Boult, looking completely broken, bowled a low full toss on the pads.
Hardik Pandya whipped his wrists, sending the ball soaring deep into the ecstatic crowd at mid-wicket for one final, emphatic six.
The umpires called time. The Indian players walked off the field, bats raised, completely unbothered by the heat, fueled entirely by adrenaline.
The New Zealand players trudged off like soldiers returning from a lost war.
The VEO graphics took over the giant screens around the stadium, and the resulting roar from the fans was so loud it distorted the microphones.
"Look at this!" Ravi Shastri roared, his voice destined to echo through the annals of cricketing history. "Just stare at this scorecard and try to comprehend what we have just witnessed! This is not just a cricket match; this is a systematic, brutal annihilation of the opposition!"
MATCH INNINGS SUMMARY - ICC CWC 2023
SEMI-FINAL 1: INDIA vs NEW ZEALANDVenue: Wankhede Stadium, Mumbai
INDIA - 487/4 (50.0 Overs)(Run Rate: 9.74)
BATTERS:
Shubman Gill: 173 (112 balls) | 20x4, 6x6 | c Mitchell b Ferguson
Aarav Pathak: 161 (96 balls) | 18x4, 9x6 | c Boult b Southee
Hardik Pandya: 76* (29 balls) | 5x4, 7x6 | NOT OUT
Shreyas Iyer: 32* (13 balls) | 3x4, 2x6 | NOT OUT
Rohit Sharma: 25 (14 balls) | 3x4, 2x6 | b Boult
Virat Kohli: 15 (20 balls) | 2x4, 0x6 | b Santner
(Extras: 15)
"Four hundred and eighty-seven runs," Ian Smith muttered in the commentary box, completely shell-shocked. "Three of our premier fast bowlers have conceded over a hundred runs each. I don't care if the pitch is flat. I don't care about the boundaries. To score 487 in a World Cup Semi-Final..."
"It breaks the opposition's mind before they even face a single delivery," Shane Watson finished the thought, shaking his head. "How do you tell Kane Williamson to go out there and chase nearly ten runs an over from ball one? Against Jasprit Bumrah. Against Mohammed Shami. Against Aarav Pathak bowling at 155 clicks."
"You don't," Harsha Bhogle said softly. "You just pray."
Down in the VIP box, the celebrations were wild. Priya Pathak was hugging Shradha tightly, both of them beaming with absolute pride. Nita Ambani was applauding alongside Sachin Tendulkar, who was looking at the giant screen with a look of pure, unadulterated respect.
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Is the total too much? I wanted to show or add a great partnership between Gill and Aarav to show them Evolving as a Player!
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