While Nayanidu sat in the wreckage of his second life, news of his tragedy reached Nirmal. Now a high-ranking executive in one of the country's top firms, Nirmal's life was a whirlwind of meetings and corporate strategy. But when he heard about the accident and the amputation, the busy schedule didn't matter. To him, a childhood bond was a contract that never expired.
He arrived at Nayanidu's home not with pity, but with the sharp, practical energy of a leader.
"I'm finished, bro," Nayanidu whispered, his voice hollow as they sat on the porch. "It's over. Luck just isn't written in my stars."
Nirmal didn't offer a hug; he offered a reality check. "Nayanidu, you are a human being, not a Marvel superhero. You can't just wake up and expect to bowl with your non-dominant hand perfectly on the first try. That's not how the world works. It takes discipline, and it takes a plan."
Nayanidu looked away, but Nirmal continued, his voice steady. "Don't you remember what your father, Namal Sir, used to say? He quoted Lenin: 'If you fail, there is no other choice but to start again from zero.' That is where you are. Zero. But you aren't alone."
Nirmal leaned in. "Bowling without an arm isn't just 'different'—it's a total reimagining of physics. From your run-up to your balance at the crease, your entire action has to be rebuilt from scratch. If you try to do it yourself, you'll just end up injured and more frustrated."
Nayanidu looked at his friend, a spark of curiosity finally cutting through the fog of his depression.
"I have a condition, though," Nirmal said firmly. "You cannot give up until you are wearing that national jersey. I've already made the calls. Remember the pre-match shows we used to watch as kids? Remember the technical genius of coaches like Anusha Samaranayaka? I have connections with that level of technical expertise. I will handle every cent of the cost—the coaches, the biomechanics, the recovery. All you have to do is listen, work, and refuse to quit."
For the first time since the truck hit his bike, Nayanidu didn't feel like a victim. He felt like a project. And in Nirmal's eyes, he saw a belief that was stronger than his own despair.