Time to shine
Our first match was on 13th September against Scotland but after the toss the match had to be abandoned because of rain. Without a single ball delivered the match was abandoned.
Our second and final match in group D was against our favorite team to play against; Pakistan and even the Pakistani audience liked to have their match against us.
Both teams were in their respective ends and both the captains, MS Dhoni from our side and Shoaib Malik from Pakistan were called in for the toss.
Dhoni took the coin and Shoaib called for 'Heads', the coin landed on Heads and Pakistan won the toss.
"Bowling first" Shoaib replied to which Dhoni shook his hand and came back to us.
The camera panned to Shoaib Malik after the toss, the interviewer stepping up to him with a microphone in hand.
"Shoaib, congratulations on winning the toss. What prompted the decision to field first?" the interviewer began.
"Thank you. Sky looking like 60% chance of rain, ball become difficult to control. So, we field," Shoaib replied, having caught on to the mention of the toss and fielding in the question.
"And how do you feel about facing India?" the interviewer continued.
"India... Pakistan... always big fight, no?" Shoaib replied, interpreting the mention of India as the broader rivalry rather than the specific match strategy.
The interviewer then asked about the pitch, "How do you think it's going to play?"
Shoaib, mistaking 'play' for playing the game, replied with, "We play good, insha'Allah."
Finally, the interviewer asked, "Shoaib, considering the explosive form of Sehwag and Vipin, do you have any specific plans to contain them?"
Shoaib, catching the word 'explosive', responded with a confused expression, "Explosive? No, no... we check. No explosives allowed on field, very strict security, you know!"
A burst of laughter echoed through the crowd, leaving the interviewer momentarily speechless. Recovering her composure, she thanked Shoaib for his time, "Well, that's reassuring to hear, Shoaib! Thanks for your time and good luck with the match."
-----------------
With a playful chuckle still echoing through the stadium, the pre-match events began to shift gears as the teams prepared to start.
"The stage is set. Mohammad Asif will take the opening over for Pakistan," the commentator announced.
Out from the pavilion stepped the Indian openers, Virender Sehwag and Gautam Gambhir, their bats glistening under the floodlights. They walked with a calmness, tempered with anticipation, their eyes firmly focused on the task at hand.
Simultaneously, the Pakistani team emerged onto the field, crossing the boundary rope one by one. They quickly got into their respective positions, their faces set in intense concentration.
From the weather desk, Sajan Nair broke the tension with an update, "According to radar, the chances of rain disrupting the match are minimal, despite earlier forecasts of a 60% chance."
Another correspondent on the ground, S Rajesh, offered his insights, "Quite surprising to see so many empty seats for such a high-profile clash. Despite this, the Indian fan base is strong, with the tri-color outnumbering the green and white flags of Pakistan."
Meanwhile, back in our camp, the stakes were high. A significant loss could lead to their exit from the Super Eights stage - a blow they had suffered just a year ago.
As it stood, Pakistan had already qualified for the Super Eights due to their victory against Scotland. India and Scotland each had a point from their rained-out match. This game held the potential to change the dynamics of the group drastically. It was a high-stakes match, and the excitement in the air was tangible. The stage was set for a thrilling encounter between two arch-rivals.
---------
The first ball from Asif was judiciously short of a good length, darting away late off the seam. Gambhir, sensing the movement, opted to let it sail safely through to the keeper.
On the next delivery, Asif put down another gem. This one was pitched back of a length, the ball jagging off viciously after pitching.
It ripped past Gambhir's tentative defense. From my seat in the dugout, the collective holding of breath was almost palpable. I exchanged anxious glances with Dhoni, both of us feeling the pressure build.
The third ball, however, was where the drama truly unfolded. Gambhir, in an uncharacteristically brazen move, stepped down the track to counter Asif's seam movement. In the dugout, we sat up, startled at his audacity.
"Bold move!" Dhoni murmured, his eyes glued to the field. The air was thick with suspense.
Gambhir launched into his stroke, the bat making a thick sound upon contact. The ball, however, didn't find the middle of the bat and rocketed back towards Asif instead.
The bowler's quick reflexes were put to the test as he dived to his right in his follow-through, attempting a tough caught-and-bowled.
In the dugout, we were all on our feet, our hearts in our throats. The cricketing gods must've been in a playful mood, for the ball popped out of Asif's hands. Yet, fate was not done having its fun. Asif swooped low and clasped the ball on his second attempt.
The Pakistan camp erupted into jubilant cheers, while a collective gasp followed by a deafening silence fell over the Indian dugout.
As the echo of the Pakistani cheer faded, Dhoni turned towards me. His gaze, steely and unwavering, held an unspoken command. A tiny, affirming nod from me was all he needed.
Dhoni clapped me on the shoulder, his voice firm yet assuring, "Time to ascend, champ."
The air seemed to buzz with tension as I rose from my seat, picking up my gloves, adjusting my helmet, and clasping my bat with determination.
My heartbeat echoed in my ears, blending with the thunderous chants of the Indian supporters as I walked out onto the field. The deafening noise was intimidating, but it also filled me with a surge of confidence.
Across the stadium, commentators were in a flurry, their words ricocheting off the electrified atmosphere. "Oh, look at this, ladies and gentlemen! India is playing its celestial card! They've summoned their Astra!"
Their words swirled around me as I crossed the boundary, stepping onto the battlefield. Astra, in our ancient history, were divine weapons invoked by the gods themselves. And now, it was as if I was entrusted with one, to fight for my team, my country.
I turned back to glance at our dugout, catching Dhoni's reassuring nod. His faith in me was the wind beneath my wings, and it bolstered me as I took my stance at the crease. The pressure was colossal, but so was my resolve.
The stadium was now a cauldron of anticipation. The thunderous applause, the blinding lights, the waiting fielders - it all seemed to fade into a blur.