Melbourne did not sleep, but the city became quieter after midnight. From the windows of his suite on the thirty-second floor of Crown Towers, Siddanth Deva looked out over the Yarra River and the lights of the city.
The Australian air felt cooler through the glass. After weeks in Hyderabad, the change was noticeable.
The Indian squad had arrived in Australia two days earlier. The players were still adjusting to the time difference, but the management had already started getting them into a regular routine with proper sleep, recovery, and light training.
The T20 World Cup was close now.
But inside his suite, Deva had shut the tournament out for the moment.
He was sitting in the corner of a cream-colored sofa wearing dark grey track pants and a faded black T-shirt. His legs rested against the edge of the glass coffee table.
His Nexus laptop sat on his lap.
It was mid-afternoon in Hyderabad.
The video call was anything but quiet.
"Nana! Nana, look!"
Aadhya's face filled the screen.
She was far too close to the camera, her eyes wide with excitement.
"I see you, monster," Deva said with a smile. His voice softened immediately. "Move back a little so I can actually see you. You're practically inside the laptop."
The camera shook.
Krithika, sitting on the sofa in the Shamshabad farmhouse, pulled her daughter back.
"Sorry," Krithika laughed. She was wearing a yellow cotton kurta. "We just got back from the theater. We took the kids to the afternoon family screening."
"I am strong!" Aadhya shouted.
She suddenly disappeared from the frame.
The sound of her feet running across the wooden floor came through the speakers.
A moment later, she returned dragging something almost as large as herself.
It was a huge plush Gada, the toy version of Hanuman's famous mace from Ramayana: Yuddha Khanda.
"I smash demons!"
Aadhya swung the toy with both hands.
The plush head hit the back of the sofa.
Thump.
"Okay, okay, Bajrangbali," Deva laughed. "The demons are gone. Don't destroy the living room."
"Monkey burned it, Nana!"
Aadhya dropped the mace and rushed back toward the camera.
"He took his tail and FIRE! Fwoosh! Everywhere! The big gold houses burned! And then the big man with ten heads..."
She stopped and thought for a moment.
"He was very loud," she finally decided. "But Rama shot him with the glowy arrow. Pew! And he fell down."
"It was a very good arrow," Deva agreed.
He rested his chin on his hand, enjoying her version of the story.
"Where's your brother?"
"He's currently acting as the chief geopolitical analyst for the Vanara army," Krithika said dryly, moving the tablet slightly.
Rishi sat in the armchair beside her.
He had a bowl of sliced apples in his lap.
When he saw his father, he gave a small nod.
"Did you like the movie, buddy?" Deva asked.
Rishi picked up a piece of apple and took his time answering.
"It was a very good story, Nana. But Ravana made bad choices."
He paused.
"He was a king, but he broke the rules. A king is supposed to protect people, not steal them."
Deva smiled.
"That's right. He let his pride make his decisions."
"Vibhishana was smart too," Rishi continued. "It is hard to leave your family. But if your family is doing something wrong, you cannot help them just because they are your family. You have to choose what is right."
He took another apple slice.
"Now he is the king, so he can fix the city."
Krithika looked at Deva through the screen and raised an eyebrow.
The expression needed no explanation.
"And Hanuman?" Deva asked.
Rishi thought about it.
"He was brave. But he was also a very good spy."
"A spy?"
"Yes."
Rishi sat forward.
"He didn't go to Lanka and start fighting immediately. He became very small so the guards couldn't see him. He looked around and found Mata Sita. And when they caught him, he let them take him to Ravana."
Deva was already smiling.
"Why?"
"So he could see Ravana and understand the enemy's palace. Then they put fire on his tail, and he used it to burn the city's important places."
Rishi nodded.
"It was good planning before the war."
Deva laughed.
"You are right, Rishi."
His son had somehow turned Hanuman's mission into a military briefing.
"Information helps you win wars."
"Nana!"
Aadhya pushed her face back into the camera, completely done listening to her brother.
"When are you coming home?."
Deva's smile softened.
"I'll be home soon, monster."
He looked at both children.
"I have a few matches to play first. I have to try to win the big shiny cup. Remember?"
"Big shiny cup," Aadhya repeated seriously.
"Okay. Bring it here. I put toys in it."
"It's a deal."
Deva looked at Krithika.
"How are you feeling?" she asked. "Truly."
"I'm fine, Krithi."
Deva leaned his head against the sofa.
"The jet lag is getting better. The boys are in good spirits."
He paused.
"But it feels different this time."
Krithika listened.
"The expectation isn't just that we compete. Everyone expects us to win. You can hear it in the press conferences. You can see it in the way people are talking about us."
"Let them talk," Krithika replied.
Her voice was calm.
"They aren't in that dressing room. They haven't seen the work you've done."
She looked directly at him.
"You don't have to carry the whole world yourself, Sid. You have a team. Let them do their jobs."
Deva was quiet for a moment.
Then he smiled.
"I know."
He looked toward the screen.
"Hearing the kids helps. It puts everything back into perspective."
He gave a small shrug.
"It's still cricket."
"Exactly."
Krithika smiled.
"Now close the laptop and sleep."
"I love you."
"I love you too."
The screen went black.
The suite became quiet again.
Deva closed the laptop and placed it on the coffee table.
He went into the bedroom, got under the white duvet, and finally slept.
For the first time since arriving in Australia, he slept without thinking about the World Cup.
---
The next morning, Melbourne was bright and cool.
The Indian team was training at the Melbourne Cricket Ground.
The MCG's stands rose around the practice area, while the training pitches were busy with players and support staff.
The warm-up matches were done.
The long preparation period was over.
Now the focus was simple.
Stay sharp.
Siddanth Deva stood at the back of the main batting net.
His pads were strapped on, his helmet secured, and his bat rested against his gloves.
He didn't rush into the net.
For a moment, he stood quietly and focused on the session ahead.
Then he walked in and took guard.
"Raghu," he called.
"Yes, skipper?"
"Pace and bounce. Hard lengths. Make it feel like Australia."
Raghavendra, known to everyone as Raghu, nodded.
He loaded the sidearm.
The first ball came quickly and climbed toward Deva's body.
Deva moved out of the way and let it pass.
"Again."
Another ball.
This one was fuller.
Deva moved onto the front foot and drove it straight.
CRACK.
The ball struck the middle of the bat and went back down the ground.
"Again."
Raghu continued.
Short ball.
Leave.
Hard length outside off.
Defend.
Fuller ball.
Drive.
Wide outside off.
Leave.
For the next forty-five minutes, Deva worked through the basics he would need in Australia.
He drove through the covers.
He defended good-length balls.
He left deliveries outside his off stump.
He played the pull when the ball climbed into his range.
There was no attempt to hit every ball out of the net.
The purpose was preparation.
Get comfortable with the bounce.
Get the timing right.
Get the eyes used to the pace.
After another delivery, Deva raised a gloved hand.
"That's enough."
He stepped out of the net.
Sweat covered his shirt, but he looked satisfied.
Ravi Shastri stood behind the netting with his arms folded.
He had barely spoken during the session.
There was little to correct.
Deva had spent the morning doing exactly what the session demanded.
He removed his pads and gloves, placed them beside his kitbag, and walked toward the bowling nets.
He picked up a white Kookaburra ball.
This time, his focus was different.
He wanted control.
He marked his run-up.
Then he began.
Smooth approach.
Strong front arm.
Upright seam.
The first ball swung away from the right-hander.
Another came back in.
Then another moved away.
He worked on his line and length, trying to hit the same area again and again.
He bowled outswingers.
Inswingers.
Short balls.
Slower balls.
Yorkers.
He kept returning to the same good areas.
By the time the session ended, the sun was high over the MCG.
Ravi Shastri blew the whistle.
Deva walked off the field.
He took a bottle of sports drink and an ice pack before finding a quiet patch of grass beside the oval.
He sat down and pressed the ice pack to his neck.
A few moments later, footsteps approached.
Virat Kohli dropped onto the grass beside him.
His training shirt was soaked with sweat.
Deva tossed a bottle of water toward Kohli.
"Cheers."
Kohli caught it.
"Raghu was firing rockets today," Virat said. "He nearly took my head off with a bouncer in the second net."
"I told him to increase the pace."
"Yes, I noticed."
Virat rubbed his arm.
"My eyes are ready. My ribs may disagree tomorrow."
Deva laughed.
They sat quietly for a few minutes.
Away from the nets, they were no longer captain and vice-captain preparing for a World Cup.
They were two friends taking a break.
"Anushka called this morning," Virat said.
"How are they?"
"They're good."
Virat smiled.
Then he sighed.
"But Vamika..."
Deva turned toward him.
"What's happened?"
"She's twenty-one months old. She's been sleeping through the night for months. Then four days ago, she decided sleep isn't necessary."
Deva smiled.
"The sleep regression."
"It's a nightmare."
Virat rubbed his face.
"She wakes up at two in the morning, stands in her crib, and just starts shouting."
"Shouting?"
"Not crying. Shouting. Like she's announcing something to the whole neighborhood."
Deva laughed.
"And the pacifier?"
"She throws it."
"Of course."
"Yesterday she threw blueberries at the wall."
Virat shook his head.
"Anushka sent me a photo. It looked like a crime scene."
Deva looked at him.
"That phase passes."
"I know. I just feel guilty being here while she's dealing with it."
Deva understood.
Traveling had its own cost.
"You'll get through it," he said. "Everyone says it feels like it's going to last forever. Then one day it stops."
Virat smiled.
"You make it sound easy."
"I have twins."
Virat laughed.
"That's true."
"There is no plan for two children waking up at three in the morning," Deva said. "There is only teamwork, coffee, and trying not to lose your mind."
"Tell me your kids were disasters too."
"Oh, they were."
Virat's eyes lit up.
"Please."
Deva leaned back.
"Aadhya didn't throw food."
"Good."
"She threw herself."
Virat laughed.
"If she didn't get what she wanted, she didn't cry. She dropped her shoulder and tried to tackle whoever was closest."
"No."
"She's aggressive."
"She's determined."
Virat wiped his eyes.
"And Rishi?"
"Rishi was worse."
"Worse than a child trying to tackle?"
"Different kind of worse."
Deva took a drink.
"Rishi didn't throw tantrums. He negotiated."
"At two years old?"
"Yes."
Virat shook his head.
"Give me an example."
"If Krithika told him it was bedtime and he didn't want to sleep, he didn't scream. He would walk over, take her car keys, and hide them."
"Where?"
"Somewhere impossible."
"How impossible?"
"It once took us three days to find them."
Virat laughed again.
"He also hid my batting gloves inside the air-conditioning vent."
"You're lying."
"I'm not."
Deva shook his head.
"He bargains too. Tell him to eat vegetables, and he wants to know what dessert he's getting in exchange."
Virat looked at him.
"Your son negotiates dessert before eating vegetables?"
"Like a businessman."
Virat laughed.
"Okay. Blueberries don't seem so bad now."
"Tell Anushka to hide anything important."
The two men laughed.
For a moment, the World Cup disappeared completely.
Then a loud voice came across the training ground.
"Aye! Skipper! Virat bhai!"
Both men turned.
"Are you two sleeping over there, or are you scared to face my off-spin?"
Rishabh Pant stood near the practice nets.
His shirt was untucked.
His sunglasses were resting on the back of his head.
And, as usual, he was talking.
He had cornered Rohit Sharma, who was trying to remove his pads.
"Come on, Ro-bhai!" Pant shouted. "You looked slow against the short ball today. Want me to give you some throwdowns? I can bowl at least 110!"
Rohit sighed.
"Rishabh, please go away. My back hurts."
Pant ignored him.
He turned toward Arshdeep.
"Arsh! Your yorkers were okay, but they need some spice."
Arshdeep stared at him.
"Try bowling with your eyes closed," Pant continued. "Surprise the batsman. Surprise yourself."
On the grass, Deva looked at Virat.
Virat looked back.
No discussion was needed.
Pant had become a problem.
"He's been doing this all morning," Virat said.
"He needs to be quiet for five minutes."
Virat smiled.
"I have an idea."
They stood up.
Neither walked toward Pant.
Instead, they headed toward the medical tent.
Kamlesh, the team physio, was organizing the recovery equipment.
Deva stopped beside him.
"Kamlesh."
Kamlesh looked up.
"Yes?"
"We need supplies."
He took one look at Deva and Virat and understood.
"The big sponge is in the third cooler," Kamlesh said quietly. "There's plenty of ice water."
"Perfect," Virat replied.
Deva opened the cooler.
The water was full of ice.
He pulled out the large sponge.
It was soaked.
Virat filled an empty bottle with the icy water.
"Mission begins," he whispered.
"Stay low," Deva replied.
They moved around the boundary, using the sightscreen as cover.
Pant had no idea.
He was busy talking to KL Rahul.
"I'm telling you, KL. If Cummins bowls me a bouncer on middle stump, I'm not hooking it."
KL looked suspicious.
"What are you going to do?"
"Reverse-scoop it."
KL stared at him.
"If Cummins bowls you a 150-kilometer-per-hour bouncer on middle stump and you try that, you're going to lose your teeth."
Pant shook his head.
"You have no imagination."
Behind him, Deva and Virat moved closer.
Rohit was sitting on a cooler.
He noticed them.
His expression changed.
Rohit took a sip of water and settled in to watch.
Deva moved behind Pant.
Virat positioned himself to the side.
Pant kept talking.
"Besides, you have to embrace the danger."
"Embrace the danger, Rishabh," Deva said quietly.
Pant froze.
He began to turn.
SPLASH.
Deva dropped the soaked sponge onto the top of Pant's head and squeezed.
Ice water ran down Pant's hair, face, and shirt.
At the same moment, Virat emptied his bottle into Pant's chest.
Pant screamed.
"GAAAAAH! COLD! COLD! COLD!"
He jumped backward, grabbing his shirt.
Water dripped from his hair.
He looked at Deva.
Then Virat.
Virat was bent over laughing.
Deva stood with his arms folded, looking calm.
"What is wrong with you people?!" Pant shouted.
KL Rahul had fallen onto the grass laughing.
Rohit was clapping from the cooler.
Pant wiped water from his face.
"That was freezing! I could've had a heart attack!"
"You looked overheated," Deva said.
"We were helping you cool down."
"It was a tactical intervention," Virat added between laughs.
"Your volume was getting out of control."
Pant stared at both of them.
Then the anger disappeared.
A grin appeared.
"Oh, it's on."
He pointed at Deva.
"This is war."
He pointed at Virat.
"Both of you."
"You better check your shoes before putting them on."
"You better sleep with one eye open."
Virat laughed.
"We're terrified."
"You should be!"
Pant turned toward the dressing room.
"Vengeance will be mine!"
He walked away, leaving wet footprints across the turf.
The squad broke into laughter.
The tension that had surrounded the World Cup had disappeared for a few minutes.