It was the last week of February.
The due date provided by the doctors was the first week of March. Krithika was resting in the ground-floor bedroom of the farmhouse. She spent her days reading books, watching television, and trying to stay comfortable. The weight of the twins made walking very difficult now.
Siddanth stayed by her side constantly. He ignored his work and his cricket training. He just sat with her, brought her food, and made sure she had everything she needed.
However, there was one final event he could not cancel.
The new stadium in Nagole was finished. The construction crews had packed up their tools. The seats were installed, the lights were tested, and the grass was cut.
Before the stadium could officially host the upcoming IPL matches in April, the cricket board required a full stress test. They needed to see how the stadium handled a crowd of sixty thousand people. They needed to test the security gates, the food stalls, the parking, and the field conditions.
They planned a charity T20 match to test the facility.
Sameer took complete charge of the planning. He ran the logistics, coordinated with the local police for traffic control, and managed the ticket sales. He spent his days holding a clipboard and shouting into his phone.
Siddanth only did one thing for the event. He sat on the sofa next to Krithika and made a few personal phone calls. He called the past legends of the game. He called Sachin Tendulkar, Sourav Ganguly, Virender Sehwag, Brett Lee, and Jacques Kallis. He asked them to come to Hyderabad for one night to play a charity game. Every single player he called agreed immediately.
The tickets went on sale online. Because it was a charity match and a test run, Sameer kept the ticket prices very cheap. The highest ticket price was five hundred rupees, and the lowest was one hundred rupees. The entire stadium sold out in exactly twelve hours.
The day of the charity match arrived.
Roshan stood near the entrance of the metro station. He wore a plain yellow t-shirt and jeans. He checked the time on his phone. It was five in the evening. The match was scheduled to start at seven.
He looked down the street. He saw his friend Pradeep walking quickly toward him. Pradeep wore a blue shirt. He looked tired from walking in the evening heat.
"You are late," Roshan said, putting his phone in his pocket.
"The bus was full," Pradeep replied, stopping to catch his breath. "Did you bring the tickets?"
"They are on my phone," Roshan said. "The new stadium only uses digital tickets. Come on, the train is arriving."
They walked up the stairs and got onto the metro train. The train was completely packed with people wearing cricket jerseys. Everyone was heading to the same place. The noise inside the train was loud. People were talking about the retired players who were coming to play today.
"I still cannot believe we got tickets," Pradeep said, holding onto a metal bar as the train moved. "Usually, a match with Sachin and Sehwag costs thousands of rupees. We only paid two hundred."
"It is a charity match," Roshan explained. "Deva organized it to test the new stadium. The ticket money goes to his foundation. He kept the prices cheap so the stadium would be full today. The cricket board wants to see how the building handles a full crowd before they give clearance for the IPL."
Pradeep nodded. "It is a smart plan. We get a good game, and he gets his stadium tested."
They rode the train for thirty minutes. The train slowed down and stopped at the Nagole station. The doors opened, and the massive crowd poured out onto the platform.
Roshan and Pradeep walked down the stairs to the street level.
They turned the corner and looked down the wide approach road.
Both of them stopped walking. They stared straight ahead.
At the end of the road stood the new NEXUS Smart Stadium. It did not look like a normal concrete sports arena. The outside shell of the building was massive and curved.
The entire exterior of the stadium was glowing.
"What is that?" Pradeep asked, pointing at the building.
"That is the LED shell," Roshan said, smiling. He liked reading technology news. He had read all the articles about this building. "The outside walls are wrapped in programmable lights. They are not just painted walls. The central computer controls them."
Pradeep watched the building. The entire stadium was currently glowing in a bright, vibrant orange color, matching the jersey of the local IPL team. Then, the color shifted smoothly, turning into the saffron, white, and green of the Indian national flag.
"They can change the color of the entire building instantly," Roshan explained as they started walking again. "If the national team is playing, the stadium wears the national colors. If the local franchise is playing, it turns orange. It is completely digital."
They walked closer to the stadium gates. The crowds were moving in organized lines.
Pradeep looked up. He noticed a wide, clear glass walkway attached to the very top edge of the stadium roof. It circled the entire building. People were walking inside the glass tube high above the ground.
"People are walking on the roof," Pradeep said, looking up in surprise.
"That is the Sky Walk," Roshan told him, pointing up. "It is a viewing gallery built right into the top structure. You can walk around the entire stadium and look down at the city and the pitch. The news said it will be open all year, even when there are no matches. People can just come and walk up there."
"This place is crazy," Pradeep muttered.
They reached the main security gates. The guards checked bags quickly.
"Did we miss the team bus arriving?" Pradeep asked, looking around the parking areas. "Usually there is a big crowd waiting to see the players get off the bus."
"The bus does not park outside here," Roshan said. "The stadium has underground parking. The team buses drive directly into a secure tunnel under the ground. The players step out right next to their dressing rooms. They don't have to walk through the crowds outside."
Roshan pulled out his phone. He opened the official stadium application he had downloaded yesterday. A square barcode appeared on his screen.
He walked up to the metal turnstile. Instead of showing a paper ticket to a guard, he held his phone over a glass scanner. The scanner beeped. A small green light turned on, and the metal gate unlocked. Roshan walked through. Pradeep took the phone, scanned it again for his ticket, and walked through behind him.
They entered the main outer concourse of the stadium.
It was very wide and very clean. Pradeep looked down at his feet as he walked.
"The floor feels strange," Pradeep noticed. "It has a slight bounce."
"Those are kinetic tiles," Roshan explained, looking down. "When you step on them, they press down slightly. That movement generates a small amount of electricity. With sixty thousand people walking around the stadium today, the floor tiles create enough power to run all the lights in this concourse. We are powering the lights just by walking."
Pradeep shook his head slowly. "That is very clever."
"I need water," Pradeep said, remembering his thirst. "Where is the shop? It will probably be fifty rupees for a plastic bottle."
"You don't need to buy a plastic bottle," Roshan said, pointing to the wall nearby.
Built into the wall was a wide, clean drinking station. There were no plastic bottles for sale. Instead, there were stacks of sturdy, biodegradable paper cups. Clean, filtered, cold water flowed from stainless steel taps.
Pradeep took a paper cup, filled it, and drank. The water was very cold.
"They put these water filters everywhere in the stadium," Roshan told him. "They want to reduce plastic waste. You just take a cup, drink, and throw it in the compost bin."
They threw their cups away and continued walking down the wide hallway.
Pradeep heard the sound of children laughing. He looked to his right. There was a large, enclosed room with glass walls. Inside, there were soft play mats, slides, and toys. Several young children were playing happily, while stadium staff members in uniform watched over them.
"A playground?" Pradeep asked.
"Yes," Roshan said. "Recreational areas for kids. Parents can drop their young children here. The trained staff watches them, so the parents can go sit in the stands and actually watch the match without the kids getting bored or crying."
"My brother should have brought his daughter," Pradeep noted. "He stayed home because he thought she would hate sitting in a chair for four hours."
Suddenly, a very familiar, rich smell filled the air. It smelled like roasted spices and hot tea.
Pradeep looked ahead. Instead of normal stadium food stalls selling generic popcorn and cold sandwiches, the concourse featured actual mini-restaurants.
He saw a large sign for 'Shadab'. The famous local restaurant had set up a proper kitchen right inside the stadium. Cooks were serving hot, fresh mutton biryani from large copper pots. Next to it was a stall for 'Nimrah Cafe'. People were buying hot Irani tea and fresh Osmania biscuits.
"They brought the local food places inside," Pradeep said, his mouth watering.
"They want the stadium to feel like Hyderabad," Roshan agreed.
As they walked past the food stalls, Pradeep noticed large, bright displays projecting from the ceiling. The displays showed the statistics of the players playing today. He saw a floating picture of Sachin Tendulkar with his total career stats written below it.
Roshan smiled, seeing Pradeep stare. "They show stats and match replays while you walk around."
They walked further down the concourse. A small crowd had gathered near an open area.
Roshan and Pradeep walked over to see what was happening.
It was a batting cage. But there was no bowling machine throwing actual cricket balls. A teenager wearing a virtual reality headset was holding a plastic cricket bat with sensors attached to it. He was swinging the bat wildly at empty air.
Next to the cage, a large screen showed what the teenager was seeing inside the headset.
On the screen, a digital version of Siddanth Deva was running up to bowl. The digital Deva released the ball. A speed tracker on the screen showed 150 kilometers per hour. The teenager swung his bat very late. The digital ball hit his virtual stumps.
The crowd watching laughed.
"VR batting cages," Roshan pointed out. "Fans can put the headset on and see what it feels like to face an international fast bowler. It is a fan zone."
"He didn't even see the ball," Pradeep chuckled, watching the teenager take the headset off in defeat.
They left the fan zone and followed the signs for their seating block.
"I need to use the washroom before the match starts," Pradeep said.
He pointed to a large washroom sign near Gate 3. There was a very long line of men waiting outside the door.
"The line is too long," Pradeep complained. "We will be standing here for twenty minutes."
Roshan looked at his phone. The official stadium app was open. The screen refreshed suddenly. A notification popped up on the top of his screen.
"Wait," Roshan said, reading the message. "The app says the washroom at Gate 3 is at maximum capacity. It is telling us to walk fifty meters down the hall, towards Gate 4. The washroom there is completely empty."
Pradeep looked at him. "The app knows how many people are in the bathroom?"
"Yes," Roshan said. "The stadium has sensors at the doors. If a food stall or a bathroom gets too crowded, the app automatically sends a message to the phones of the people standing nearby. It redirects the crowd to less crowded areas so we don't have to stand in long lines."
"That is actually very useful," Pradeep admitted.
They walked fifty meters down the concourse to Gate 4. Just as the app promised, the washroom area there was completely empty. Pradeep went inside.
When he came out, Roshan pointed to a wide, open gallery nearby. Above the entrance, a brightly lit sign read 'Hall of Champions.'
"Let's look inside," Roshan suggested.
They walked into the gallery. The walls were covered in large, very high-quality photographs printed on glass.
Pradeep stopped and looked at the left wall. He saw the Indian cricket team lifting the World Cup in 1983. Kapil Dev held the trophy high on the balcony. Next to it was a massive, beautiful picture of MS Dhoni, Sachin Tendulkar, and the team holding the World Cup in 2011 in Mumbai.
He turned to the right wall. This side did not feature cricketers. It showed Indian athletes from other sports. He saw pictures of Olympic gold medalist Abhinav Bindra standing proudly on the podium. He saw the pre-Independence hockey team, and then the legendary post-Independence squads that brought Olympic glory to the nation. Every image was accompanied by details of what the team or individual had achieved for the country written on the side.
- The iconic 1928 Amsterdam team (India's first Olympic hockey gold), led by captain **Jaipal Singh Munda** with the legendary **Dhyan Chand** (the "Wizard of Hockey") dominating as the star forward.
- The 1932 Los Angeles and 1936 Berlin teams, where Dhyan Chand continued his brilliance (captaining in 1936), alongside players like his brother **Roop Singh**, **Carlyle Tapsell**, **Sayed Jaffar**, and **Ali Dara**.
- The post-Independence golden era: the 1948 London team (India's first gold as an independent nation) with **Balbir Singh Sr.** scoring key goals, including in the final against Great Britain.
- The 1952 Helsinki team, where **Balbir Singh Sr.** (often called one of the greatest centre-forwards ever) scored a record **five goals** in the final against the Netherlands.
- The 1956 Melbourne team, captained by **Balbir Singh Sr.**, and later golds in 1964 (Tokyo) and 1980 (Moscow, captained by **Vasudevan Baskaran**).
These images captured India's unprecedented dominance — eight Olympic golds in men's hockey — and the heroes who made the sport a national pride.
"Deva built this to honor all sports, not just cricket," Roshan explained quietly, looking at the Olympic athletes. "He wants young kids to walk through here and feel inspired by every champion this country has produced."
They walked out of the gallery.
Further down the hall, they saw a large, thick wall made entirely of soundproof glass.
A group of fans was standing against the glass, looking into the room on the other side.
Roshan and Pradeep walked up to the glass.
"What is this room?" Pradeep asked.
"That is the player tunnel," Roshan said, pointing through the glass.
Pradeep looked closely. On the other side of the thick glass was the actual tunnel leading from the dressing rooms to the grass field. The fans in the concourse could literally stand there and watch the players line up, put their helmets on, and hype each other up right before they walked out to play.
"We can see them right before they go out," Pradeep said, amazed by the access.
"Yes," Roshan nodded. "It connects the fans to the players."
They checked their ticket numbers on the app. They were in block C. They found the entrance ramp leading into the main seating bowl.
As they walked up the short ramp, Pradeep wiped his forehead.
"It feels very cool in here," Pradeep noted. "Usually, when there are this many people in a concrete stadium, it gets very hot and sticky."
Roshan pointed to the ceiling above the seating entrances. There were large, wide metal grilles running along the walls.
"Climate control," Roshan explained. "There are silent air-circulation vents built all around the upper and lower tiers. They push a continuous, cool breeze through the concourse and the seating areas. The system is designed to keep the temperature down for all sixty thousand seats. You don't feel the sweat."
"I can definitely feel the breeze," Pradeep said, enjoying the cool air hitting his face.
They walked out into the main seating bowl.
The view was open. The massive floodlights illuminated the green grass perfectly. There were no large pillars blocking the sightline from any seat.
Pradeep looked down toward the boundary rope near the grass. He noticed something unusual.
"Look down there," Pradeep pointed. "The first row of seats is missing."
Roshan looked down. Right behind the boundary rope, there was a premium row of seats that was sunken slightly into the ground. The people sitting in those seats had their heads at the exact same level as the grass.
"Those are the dugout seats," Roshan told him. "They are built into the ground. The fans sitting there are exactly at eye-level with the field. When a fielder dives near the boundary, he is just feet away from their faces."
"I bet those tickets cost a lot," Pradeep chuckled.
They walked down the concrete steps to find their own row. They moved past a few people and reached their seats.
Pradeep looked at his chair. It was not a cheap, hard plastic bench. It was a wide, padded folding seat with armrests and a built-in cup holder. He sat down. The seat felt very comfortable. He had plenty of legroom.
"This is better than a movie theater seat," Pradeep said, settling in.
Roshan sat down next to him. He looked around the stadium. Every single seat was filled. The crowd was talking loudly, blowing horns and waving flags.
Pradeep noticed the noise. "It is very loud in here. The sound feels different."
"Acoustic design," Roshan explained, pointing to the roof structure curving above the top tier of seats. "The roof is curved slightly inward. When the crowd cheers, the sound hits the roof and bounces straight down to the pitch. It stops the sound from escaping into the sky. It makes sixty thousand people sound like a hundred thousand people. It is meant to intimidate the visiting teams."
Pradeep looked down at the green field. He narrowed his eyes. He noticed a distinct line running along the grass near the boundary rope.
"Roshan," Pradeep said, pointing at the field. "Look near the boundary. There is a gap in the grass. It looks like a seam."
Roshan looked where his friend was pointing. He nodded. "Yes. That is the edge of the tray."
"What tray?"
"The entire pitch and the center outfield are built on a massive retractable tray system," Roshan explained, leaning forward. "The grass you see is not just planted in the dirt. It is pure Bermuda grass mixed with fake grass threads to make the roots very strong. The whole thing sits on a giant steel tray."
"Why put the grass on a tray?" Pradeep asked, looking confused.
"Because they want to use the stadium for other events," Roshan said. "If a music concert or a big political meeting happens here, people will stand on the grass and ruin the cricket pitch. The pitch takes months to prepare. So, the stadium uses large motors to pull the entire tray out of the building. The grass slides outside the stadium. Then, they put a hard floor down in the center for the concert. When a cricket match is scheduled, they slide the grass tray back inside. The pitch never gets damaged."
"That is incredible," Pradeep muttered, staring at the grass. "They can just pull the ground away."
"Look up," Roshan told him, pointing a finger at the sky.
Pradeep leaned his head back and looked up. The sky was dark, but he could clearly see the stars. The stadium roof was open.
"What about the roof?" Pradeep asked.
"It is a retractable roof," Roshan said. "It is made of a lightweight, clear material. It lets natural sunlight come inside to keep the grass healthy when the roof is closed. Also, the outer panels act as solar collectors during the day. They store the sun's energy. That stored energy is what powers the floodlights and the air cooling system right now."
"So if it rains, they just close it?"
"Yes," Roshan nodded. "It takes ten minutes to close the roof completely. Rain will never stop a match here again. But even if the roof is open and a sudden heavy rainstorm happens, they have a backup plan."
"What backup plan?" Pradeep asked.
"Drainage," Roshan said. "They installed pipes right below the grass. They act like a giant suction machine. If heavy rain falls, the suction pulls the water straight down through the dirt. The outfield can dry completely within fifteen minutes after a storm stops. There are no water puddles left on the grass."
Pradeep shook his head slowly. He patted the armrest of his comfortable chair. "Deva really built a fortress. This does not feel like a normal sports ground."
"It is a smart stadium," Roshan agreed. "He wants this to be the best venue in the world."
"I am getting hungry again," Pradeep said. "I should go back to the concourse and buy some popcorn."
"Sit down," Roshan told him, opening the stadium app on his phone again. "You don't need to get up. You will miss the toss."
"How will I get popcorn?"
"I am ordering it on the app," Roshan said, tapping his screen. "I just ordered popcorn and two sodas. I entered our seat numbers. The kitchens are located directly under these seating blocks for fast delivery. A staff member will bring the food straight to our seats in a few minutes."
Pradeep leaned back in his padded chair. He looked at the massive, glowing stadium around him. He felt the cool breeze from the vents. He watched the digital screens showing the player statistics.
"This is perfect," Pradeep said.
They sat comfortably in their seats, waiting for the food to arrive, and waiting for the legends of Indian cricket to walk out of the glass tunnel and onto the perfect grass.