The dust had barely settled over the field when Mohith's team lifted their bats and voices in triumph. The ragtag bunch of barefoot boys had toppled a cricketing prince. What no one expected, however, was how far those echoes would travel.Celebration and Quiet RealizationsThe children from the surrounding streets stormed the pitch to hoist Mohith on their shoulders. His cracked bat became a banner of hope. Pavan, still panting from saving runs and anchoring the innings with his fifty, stood smiling proudly, sweat dripping down his neck. Dhruva, shy and uncertain, found himself mobbed by hands patting his back after dismissing Arjun.Pavan (grinning):
"Mohith, you madman—you did it!"Mohith:
"No, we did it. Every one of us."But though the celebration roared, Mohith's eyes drifted to the far pavilion, where Arjun stood still. His helmet hung from his hand, his chest rising and falling quickly, and his face in shadow. That wasn't defeat—it was rage simmering like boiling lava.Mohith (inner voice):
"This won't be the last battle. He won't stop here."A Shadow Among the CrowdBy the end of the match, word of the upset had already spread beyond the dusty ground. In the midst of the dispersing crowd, two men in crisp blazers stood watching quietly. They weren't locals—they were scouts from the district cricket association.One of them scribbled notes quickly, his glasses glinting under the fading sun.Scout 1:
"That boy… Mohith. Century under pressure. Power, technique, raw intent."Scout 2:
"And the quiet one—Dhruva. Spin with drift. That dismissal of Arjun was no accident."They watched Mohith laughing with his teammates, carefree for a moment, unaware that his life had just changed trajectory.Scout 1 (muttering):
"Perhaps… it's time the district academy saw some new names."At Home – Mohith's Quiet StruggleThat evening, Mohith sat at his small desk under a flickering bulb. His mother placed a plate of curry and rice in front of him with a tired smile. His father, still in work clothes from the docks, patted his back quietly.Mother:
"You played well, Mohith. The neighbors wouldn't stop talking about you on their way home."Father (gruff but proud):
"Scoring runs is good… but remember, it won't feed the family forever."Mohith nodded silently. He loved the praise, but the weight of reality sat heavy too. Yet inside, something was burning brighter than ever—the dream.After dinner, Pavan knocked at the door, breathless with excitement.Pavan:
"You won't believe this. I overheard two men in suits talking about you after the match. They might be district scouts! Mohith… this could be your chance."Mohith's eyes widened slightly, heart thudding.Mohith (inner voice):
"District cricket… The gates to the world stage."Arjun's FuryMeanwhile, across town, Arjun lashed out in his family's private practice nets. Ball after ball flew off his bat with vicious intensity, his face twisted with anger.His father, a wealthy businessman, stood arms folded.Father:
"How did you allow yourself to be embarrassed by a boy with no pedigree, no coaching… no future?"Arjun's hands tightened on his bat.Arjun:
"Don't underestimate him. I swear, I will crush Mohith. If the scouts saw him today, then I will remind them who the real talent is."His eyes glowed with obsession. For Arjun, it was no longer about cricket. It was about revenge.The Unexpected InvitationThe next morning, Mohith jogged back to the dusty ground, his cracked bat hanging from a sling. To his surprise, a crowd had already gathered. Whispers filled the air. At the center of the group were the two scouts in blazers, clipboards in hand.They looked directly at him.Scout 1:
"Mohith. Yesterday, your batting caught our eyes. You showed power, yes—but more importantly, you showed courage. We want you to come for district selection trials."The words hit like lightning. Mohith's teammates gasped, cheering. Pavan nearly tripped over himself in excitement. Dhruva looked stunned, his heart racing.But Mohith, though his chest thundered, simply straightened, meeting the scouts' gaze with calm determination.Mohith:
"I accept. But I won't go alone. If you saw my innings, you also saw theirs. Pavan… and Dhruva. I won because of them. If there are trials, they should be there too."The scouts exchanged startled looks. Few boys spoke with such conviction.Scout 2 smirked slightly.
Scout 2:
"Interesting. A leader's heart as well as a batsman's talent."Finally, they nodded.
Scout 1:
"Very well. The three of you are invited. The trials begin in two weeks."The Weight of the DreamThat night, sleep escaped Mohith completely. He sat on the roof of his house with Pavan and Dhruva. The stars hung heavy above, glimmering possibilities.Pavan (grinning nervously):
"I don't even have proper shoes… Only school uniform shoes. What if they laugh?"Dhruva (murmuring):
"I've never bowled to real district players… What if I'm not enough?"Mohith looked at them both, his cracked bat balanced across his knees.Mohith:
"Listen. Clothes don't score runs. Shoes don't take wickets. What matters is here…" (he pressed his fist to his chest) "…and here." (he tapped the bat).
"They'll laugh, they'll mock. But when we step on that pitch, they'll remember us. Not for what we wear—but for how we play."The fire in his voice settled deep inside his friends. For the first time, they didn't just believe in Mohith—they believed in themselves.Closing SceneFar away, in a luxurious house, Arjun stood at his balcony fence, gripping his bat so tightly his knuckles whitened. He had overheard the scouts' decision.Arjun (inner voice, cold):
"You think you're ready for district trials, Mohith? Fine. I'll be there too. And I'll make sure you never rise beyond this town."The screen fades to Mohith staring at the stars while Arjun burns in shadow.Title card flashes:
"Next Time: The Road to the Trials"