The next morning, Ajay woke before dawn. He lay in bed for a few minutes, staring at the ceiling fan spinning slowly above him, listening to the faint sounds of the house coming to life—his grandmother's soft footsteps in the kitchen, the clink of metal as she prepared tea, and the creak of the old wooden door as his uncle stepped out for his morning walk.
The selection list would be posted today.
In his first life, this had been a nerve-wracking moment, the kind where his heart had pounded and every minute felt like an hour. This time, he felt a quiet steadiness. He had done everything he could. If he didn't make it, it wouldn't be for lack of preparation or effort.
Still… there was a small part of him that couldn't help but hope.
The Walk to the Clubhouse
By eight in the morning, he was walking toward the district cricket association's small clubhouse where the noticeboard was mounted. The winter sun was still gentle, but the streets were already busy. Shopkeepers were lifting shutters, milkmen pedaled past with their clinking metal cans, and kids in school uniforms ran to catch buses.
Ajay wore a plain tracksuit, hands in his pockets, keeping his pace steady. He didn't want to seem like one of those players who ran to the board, scanned for their name, and walked away crestfallen.
As he reached the gate, he saw a group of boys already huddled around the board, some laughing, some groaning. The sound of paper fluttering in the cold breeze carried an odd tension with it.
The Moment of Truth
Ajay stepped closer. His eyes scanned the neat rows of typed names. For a moment, he forced himself to go slow, reading from top to bottom, division by division.
Then he saw it—
Ajay Sharma – Batsman/All-rounder
There it was. His name. Bold, black letters on white paper, staring back at him like a promise kept.
In his chest, a tightness he didn't even realize he'd been carrying loosened. His lips curled into the faintest smile. He didn't shout, didn't pump his fist. But deep inside, he felt something powerful—vindication.
The Coach's Approval
"Congratulations," came a voice from behind.
Ajay turned to see Coach Sharma standing there, hands clasped behind his back, his weathered face breaking into a proud grin.
"You've earned it, lad," the coach said. "But remember, this is only the first step. District cricket is tougher, faster, more ruthless than anything you've played before. The boys here are hungry. And hunger wins matches."
Ajay nodded. "I'm ready for it, Coach. More ready than before."
The coach studied him for a moment longer, perhaps sensing the conviction in his tone, before patting him on the shoulder and walking away.
The Return Home
When Ajay reached home, his grandmother was in the courtyard, drying clothes on the line. She looked up and immediately sensed something in his expression.
"Ho gaya?" she asked, voice carrying that hopeful lift only elders have when they know the answer but still want to hear it.
Ajay smiled. "Ho gaya, Dadi."
Her face lit up as she called into the house, "Suno! Ajay ka naam aa gaya hai!"
Within minutes, the courtyard was alive with family—parents, uncles, aunts, cousins—all gathering around. Someone rushed to bring a box of sweets from the kitchen. His grandmother placed a tilak on his forehead and pressed her hand firmly on his head in blessing.
"Ye toh bas shuruaat hai," she said softly. "Bada kaam karega mera beta."
Keeping His Excitement in Check
While the family celebrated, Ajay's mind was already running through the next steps. District cricket wasn't just about performing in one match—it was about consistency. He would have to score, field, and stay fit week after week, under harsher conditions and against sharper opponents.
He accepted the sweets, smiled for the family, but inside, he kept his excitement on a tight leash. He couldn't let this be the high point. It had to be just another milestone on a much longer road.
Evening Practice
That evening, instead of taking the day off to celebrate, Ajay went back to the ground. He batted for an hour against throwdowns, focusing on timing and footwork. He worked on fielding drills until the sky turned orange.
In his mind, the system updated:
Batting – 456/10,000
Fielding – 54/100
Fitness – 37/100
It wasn't a huge leap, but progress was progress.
Reflection at Night
Lying in bed that night, Ajay thought about how different this felt compared to his first life. Back then, making the district team had felt like reaching the mountain top. Now, it was just the base camp.
The mountain he was climbing now—Ranji, national selection, World Cups—was much higher. But unlike before, he was climbing with preparation, focus, and the advantage of knowing what was ahead.
Tomorrow, training would be harder. And that was exactly how he wanted it.