The Vijay Hazare Trophy was heating up, and the UP senior squad was under scrutiny. Their last match against Delhi had ended in a bruising defeat, exposing cracks in the middle order and leaving the bowling unit stretched thin.
But the real blow came the next morning.
During a routine training session at the Lucknow Cricket Centre, Devankar Singh, UP's dependable opener, pulled up sharply while chasing a ball near the ropes. He collapsed clutching his thigh, grimacing in pain.
The physio rushed in.
Ten minutes later, the verdict was clear.
Grade 2 hamstring tear.
Devankar was ruled out for at least two months.
The team had one immediate backup—a reserve from the academy—but beyond that, the bench was bare. The schedule was unforgiving. Their next match was in three days.
The management needed a solution.
The Closed-Door Debate
That evening, the UP coaching staff and board representatives gathered in the strategy room. Coach Ramesh Bhatia opened the discussion.
"We need an allrounder who can perform under pressure."
The assistant coach suggested a name from the U-19 pool.
The physio raised concerns about match fitness.
Then someone said it.
"Nikhil Srivatam."
Silence.
A few nods.
A few raised eyebrows.
"He's sixteen," one senior member said.
"He's captaining Western UP," another added. "We'd be pulling him mid-tournament."
"But he's consistent," the analyst replied. "He's not flashy. He's stable. He makes others better."
Still, the room was divided.
So they turned to Rajeev Menon.
The Architect Returns
Rajeev Menon hadn't spoken much during the meeting. He was one of the founding architects of UP's cricketing rise in the early 2000s—a former selector, mentor, and strategist. His word still carried weight.
"I'll watch him," he said. "Not his stats. His hard work."
The Match That Mattered
Two days later, Rajeev Menon arrived quietly at Bijnor Stadium for the Western UP vs Bundelkhand match.
He sat alone in the upper stands, notebook in hand, sunglasses on.
He didn't look at the scoreboard.
He looked at Nikhil.
He watched how he walked between overs. How he spoke to bowlers. How he adjusted fields. How he didn't panic when Mahesh was bowled early. How he rebuilt the innings with Siddharth. How he bowled his off-spin—not to take wickets, but to control tempo, vary flight, and squeeze the run rate.
Nikhil didn't shine above the team.
He made the team shine.
The Letter
After the match, as the players gathered near the dressing room for the post-game briefing, Nikhil stood with Veer tucked under his arm, explaining the bowling phase to the squad.
Coach Devraj walked over, holding a white envelope.
He handed it to Nikhil.
"It's from the UP Cricket Board," he said.
Nikhil opened it.
It was an official call-up.
"You are requested to join the UP senior squad for the remainder of the Vijay Hazare Trophy. Your presence is required at the Lucknow camp by Friday morning."
Nikhil stared at the letter.
His fingers tightened around Veer.
The Doubt
Later that night, Nikhil sat alone under the neem tree behind the guesthouse.
He read the letter again.
He thought of his team—Mahesh, Siddharth, Ravi, Karan.
He thought of the zonal championship.
They were still in contention.
Still fighting.
Could he leave them now?
Was it selfish to step up?
Or was it selfish to stay?
Coach Devraj joined him, carrying two cups of tea.
He handed one to Nikhil and sat beside him.
"You're thinking too much," he said.
Nikhil didn't reply.
Devraj continued. "You've earned this. Not because you're perfect. But because you're ready."
Nikhil looked up. "What about the team?"
Devraj smiled. "We'll fight. We'll adapt. That's what you taught us."
He placed a hand on Nikhil's shoulder.
"Go. We'll be proud. Not abandoned."
The Decision
The next morning, Nikhil packed his kit.
He wrote a note and pinned it to the dressing room wall.
"Play for each other. Play like we're still together. Because we are."
He boarded the train to Lucknow.
Veer by his side.
Eyes forward.