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Chapter Text

January, 2006

Ravindra Jadeja had turned 17 barely a month ago when he arrived at the India Under 19 camp in Mumbai in January 2006. In a team where half the members were already 19, he was glaringly the juniormost. He also did not have the faintest idea how he'd made it into the team.

No, he was not questioning his talent or his ability. He did not even care about his ability. He did not care much about the blue jersey either, which had been his dearest dream till a year ago.

His mother's dearest dream till a year ago, till her car crashed into the divider on the highway while returning home from her paternal home.

Why was he still playing cricket? Oh yes, the credit went entirely to her exceedingly bossy and annoying elder sister. She would not let him quit--and here he was, today, walking into a national camp. About to represent India in blues in a month...

***

Rohit Sharma, soon to be 19 but as irresponsible and unpunctual as he'd been at 9, rushed into the practice grounds, dragging his kit. He should not have overslept today, of all days--it was the such an important one, his first as part of an Indian team.

He blamed his lack of punctuality on the Mumbai local trains which were never on time. Better, in his opinion, than reaching the station on time and waiting half an hour in the crowd, was arriving late and catching the late train just in the nick of time.

That was what he'd done today, symbolically. The coach gave him a look that said he wasn't impressed at all. A chastened Rohit worked extra hard at the warmups before he was assigned to the nets practicing spin.

***

I want to quit. I want to quit. I want to quit.

Jaddu gritted his teeth as he took his run up.

He wanted so badly to make a statement to God for taking his mother away: he would give up cricket. Cricket had nothing to offer him anymore. Blow Naina di for coaxing him into his all over again.

Mom, if you're watching from above, know I'm playing only because di forced me to, he thought. I don't want to play if you can't watch.

He released the delivery mechanically. The local guy from Mumbai he was bowling to stepped down the pitch and took it on cleanly. There was a smattering of applause for the shot. Jaddu, as was his habit, turned to grin at the batter in a no-hard-feelings sort of way, though his eyes were burning very badly. His opponent grinned back in a rather likeable easygoing manner.

Jaddu took up his run up again. Mechanically. Cricket had nothing to offer him anymore.

***

Something about the spinner from Gujarat-Jaddu, he was called, short for Jadeja-intrigued Rohit. It was the abrupt contrasts in his attitude probably: for most of the practice session, he laughed and joked. But in stretches in between, he just went completely silent, moving like a zombie, gazing into nothingness.

Rohit wasn't the most tactful of persons, however (hardly anyone is at the age of 19) and just to satisfy his curiosity, he chose to simply walk into Jadeja's room after dinner.

"Hey," said Rohit, and paused.

Jadeja, who'd been facing the window, started and looked around. His cheeks were unmistakably streaked with tears.

"Sorry-I didn't mean to-" Rohit stammered, and began to back away.

Without daring to wipe away his tears, Jaddu shot to his feet and did what he always did: hide himself under a thick layer of jokes.

"Hey, Rohit-want to learn swordfighting?" he asked.

Rohit gaped at him, dumbfounded. "What?" he asked finally.

"You know how as kids everyone wants to learn to fight with a sword?" asked Jaddu smoothly.

"Er-er, I-yes..." Rohit had never imagined of learning to fight with a sword, but he didn't have a more suitable response.

"Well, I know how to." Jaddu's red eyes gleamed. "And I'm quite a good teacher."

"But there's no sword," pointed out Rohit, before another thought occurred to him. "Or do you carry a sword with you?"

"It got confiscated at airport security..." Jaddu skipped out of the room and yelled. "Here-we have a substitute-!"

Rohit dashed out and found him holding up a long broom that'd been lying in the corridor, presumably belonging to one of the sweeping staff.

"You'll teach me swordfighting with a sweeping broomstick?" asked Rohit.

"Yes." Jaddu beamed.

"All right," said Rohit, beaming back.

***

In little over an hour, it was clear that Rohit was very, very bad at swordfighting. And that Jaddu was very, very, very good at it.

Over Jaddu's demonstrations, Rohit's pathetic attempts and a lot of noisemaking of dropping the broom and hitting the wall with it, in the corridor, Rohit and Jaddu talked.

"How long have you wanted to be a cricketer, Jaddu?"

"Dunno. As long as I can remember."

"Really?" asked Rohit. "But who spotted your knack and all that early? My middle school games teacher spotted mine..."

"Well, it was my mother who spotted mine," Jaddu found himself saying, before wanting to bite out his tongue.

"Oh, she must be so proud!" Rohit cried, dropping the broom.

"No, she's not," said Jaddu, picking up the broom. "She's dead."

Rohit froze. 

Jaddu racked his brains to change the topic, but his companion spoke first.

"Well, I think she's still very proud," said Rohit in a small but determined voice. 

Then he did something remarkable: he let Jaddu choose whether to continue discussing the matter.

Jaddu chose not to. He chose to hand the broom to Rohit and point out where he'd gone wrong last time.

Rohit obliged with a fresh pathetic attempt at sowrdfighting.

"After today's lesson ends, d'you want to come over to my grandparent's place for dinner?," said Rohit. "My grandmother makes brilliant pav bhaji."

"Oh-all right," said Jaddu. "I like pav bhaji," he added.

"Well, who doesn't?" asked Rohit.

"Good point."

***

And for the first time since his mother left the earth, Jaddu wondered: did cricket have something left to offer him yet? 

Something like a...like a...friend?

Most precious moment of the duo: On the semi final against NZ, WC 2019, Jaddu fought a losing battle alone. When he reached his 50, Rohit, barely holding back his tears as it turned out, gestured from the dressing room:  you are strong .

Chapter Text

January, 2008

Two years later, Jaddu was walking into the India U19 World Cup camp again, now vice captain. This time he was 19 years old, one of the oldest. Rohit had already made his debut for India last year and was touted the most talented youngster out there.

Ah, there was another of the most talented youngsters of the country standing in the hotel lobby, facing one of the hotel staff. The captain, Virat Kohli.

"No, I'm afraid I can't stand for it," the hotel staff was saying. "The kit bags are to be cleaned before dragged into the lobby."

Jaddu knew Virat a bit from the occasional U19 tour game they'd played together. Spotting him, Virat waved. Jaddu waved back and walked over to him and the staff, whose nametag said Mr. Jha.

"Hey there, young man," Mr. Jha told Jaddu sternly. "What do you mean my muddying the carpet like this?"

Jaddu and Virat both looked down at the former's shoes, which had left muddy footprints down the hallway.

"We came back from practice," began Virat.

"I don't care if you have come back from Mars, rules are rules," said Mr. Jha firmly. "You have to conform with the cleanliness and hygiene rules if you are to stay here. Otherwise--" He waved out of the window.

Jaddu and Virat both looked at the window.

"I'm sure there's a place on the footpath where you can set up camp." Mr Jha walked away.

Jaddu and Virat looked at each other, eyebrows raised.

"I've never captained before and don't have any idea how to," said Virat frankly. "Have you vice-captained before?"

"No," said Jaddu. "But I know the first step."

"What?" asked Virat.

"Create a few new rules of cleanliness and hygiene for Mr. Jha."

Virat promptly forgot his nervousness on his first day as captain.

"You're right," he said in wonder. "How did I not think of this before?"

Jaddu winked. Virat winked back, grinning. Their mirroring expressions told each of them that their companion was not a novice at the job at hand.

***

So it happened that the U19 team spent the first meeting of camp without their captain and vice-captain. The coach and support staff kept looking at the time anxiously.

"They have definitely arrived, you say?" asked the coach.

"Yes, I saw them," said Manish nervously, wondering if he was snitching.

Their coach shook their head.

***

Jaddu and Virat were having a field time in the supermarket, debating whether they should steal chicken eggs or duck eggs, experimenting with coloured glue and racking their brains for new facets to their plot.

"The walls were light brown," said Virat. "Green would look hideous on it."

"And purple. Green and purple," said Jaddu, fishing out a bottle of purple glue from the stack. "We'll soak half the mops in green, half in purple."

"They'll clash," said Virat in glee. "What else d'you remember Mr. Jha making his servants do...? Oh, yes, he was making them dust the carpet!"

"Spikes!" said Jaddu. "We'll attach spikes to the brushes. That'll tear the carpet in places."

Virat clapped him on the back and they darted to look for spikes.

A good four hours later, they sneaked into the hotel laden with two sacks and the messiest stray dog they'd found along the way.

***

The team left for practice early the next morning, before the servants came in.

"Where were you two last night?" the coach asked the miscreants suspiciously.

"We went to the temple down the next block," said Jaddu demurely before Virat had even begun to think up an excuse.

Their coach nodded, looking convinced. If he'd known Jaddu, he would never have believed in the demure tone, but he didn't know Jaddu--yet.

Virat gave Jaddu a look of glowing admiration. Jaddu couldn't help feeling exceedingly pleased with himself.

***

When the team trooped back after practice, having undergone a long and tiresome routine of scraping their shoes and kitbags free of mud, the hotel lobby was in uproar.

"What happened?" everyone asked everyone as they rushed in.

It soon became clear what had happened.

Muddy pawprints plastered every inch of carpet which wasn't tattered and half-gnawed bones were strewn around. Mr. Jha and three workers were running after a smelly dog rampaging in the lobby which was refusing to be caught. The walls were violently green and purple in places and smashed eggs that looked like they'd been shot out of cannons dripped down.

"Go, Rocky, go," Virat egged on their dog in a whisper as the futile chase continued. 

Jaddu tried and failed to keep a straight face.

Mr. Jha gave up chasing Rocky and stalked over to the bunch returning from the field.

"One of your boys did this," he told their coach.

"Indeed?" The coach turned to his team.

"The night guard saw a couple of them sneaking in after hours."

Everyone's gaze found Virat and Jaddu, the only ones who'd been missing from the hotel the last evening.

"It was us," admitted Virat, buckling under the laser-like gaze of their coach.

"You two are the captain and vice-captain!" their coach said in exasperation. "Don't you feel ashamed of yourself to carry out a third grader prank like this?"

"Third grader?" asked Virat, affronted.

"Uh, Virat--" whispered Jaddu.

"Sorry," said Virat. "Sorry, sir. Sorry, er, Mr. Jha."

"Sorry indeed," said Mr. Jha icily.

Their coach left. Virat and Jaddu looked at Mr. Jha, whose expression was so funny Virat couldn't help a choked laugh.

Jaddu caught Virat's elbow and started to slip away.

"We thought you needed to lighten up a little," said Jaddu in a saintly voice before they tore up the stairs, Virat bent double with laughter.

"We had to do better, though," said Jaddu. "The night guards spotted us, even if he didn't recognize us. And we didn't go to the meeting yesterday night, which made us obvious."

That sobered Virat up.

"Yes, I guess we didn't think it through well enough..."

Manish met them at the head of the stairs.

"I don't think third graders could have pulled that off," he said in a slightly awed voice, waving at the colourful walls and ruined carpets. "I mean, you two didn't directly do any of it, did you? You got the hotel workers to do it!" 

His eyes were so wide and admiring that Virat and Jaddu beamed.

Virat offered Jaddu a fist bump. "Partners?"

"Partners," agreed Jaddu.

Most precious moment of the duo: Their partnership in the Champions Trophy final, 2013, after Dhoni and Raina were dismissed in the same over, without which we wouldn't have stood a chance.

Chapter Text

August, 2008

Leading up to the U-19 World Cup 2008, Virat had been wont to believe that the squad, led by himself was the best young talent India had to offer.

Then suddenly one day during practice, he saw his teammates talking about someone called 'Rohit Sharma', who was about to make his India debut, apparently.

Virat knew now that he had been an arrogant brat in his younger days, because he had asked, "How come he gets to play for India when he couldn't even make it to the U-19 team?"

"He's 20, I think," someone said.

"Don't you guys have anything better to discuss?" asked Virat.

However, after that, he heard their coach talking about the ridiculously talented new guy Rohit Sharma. Then he heard that Sourav sir had praised him extravagantly.

Then he heard that Sachin sir, his idol, was also praising Rohit Sharma.

Who the hell was this Rohit Sharma? wondered Virat uneasily, with a twinge of jealousy, because he worshipped Sachin sir and he knew that he had been Sachin sir's favourite youngster till Rohit Sharma burst on to the scene.

Virat determinedly sat down in front of the TV to watch Rohit Sharma's debut match in the T20 WC 2007.

Before he had watched Rohit face 6 balls, Virat's contemptuous, angry demeanor had given way to open mouthed awe.

It couldn't have been clearer why everyone was so caught up with this guy.

His shots...his class...his timing!

God, Rohit Sharma must be an absolute natural talent!

After that, Virat became just one more of Rohit Sharma's fans. He made sure he watched every match Rohit played in, and concluded that he was, though talented, reckless and impatient.

Try as he might, Virat couldn't dislike Rohit Sharma, even though he was getting to be Sachin sir's favourite, even though he was jealous of all the attention he was getting.

Rohit Sharma's behaviour, words and demeanor as seen on the field was simply un-dislikeable, Virat felt.

Of course, he didn't know what the future held.

***

After leading India to win the U-19 WC, Virat earned his India call up for the Sri Lanka series in August 2008.

The seniors straight away made a fool of him by telling him that everyone new in the team had to touch Sachin sir's feet as a mark of respect. Since he had pretty much worshipped Sachin all his life, he did it without complain, and the rest of the team burst into laughter as Sachin sir pulled him up by his shoulders.

A red-faced Virat was muttering apologies or something to his idol when he noticed Rohit Sharma grinning at him from behind Sachin sir.

It wasn't a mocking grin, it was just a friendly, nice sort of grin.

Virat once again felt that this guy was so... impossible to dislike.

He found himself grinning back.

***

Virat made his debut on 18th August. It was just an average performance by him, and as he had prayed, like everyone else, that he played fearfully well on his debut, he felt quite down in the dumps after the match ended.

He was walking to his room in the hotel when a voice behind him said, "Hi!"

Virat turned and saw Rohit, wearing that friendly smile again.

"Hi," said Virat.

"I'm Rohit Sharma," said Rohit, extending his hand.

"I know that," said Virat incredulously, taking his hand. Then he flushed and stammered, "I mean--I've seen you play for India in the last year... I'm Virat Kohli, by the way."

"I know that, too," said Rohit, his eyes twinkling. "I've seen you lead the U-19 team to win the World Cup!"

"Nice," said Virat, grinning, all his awkwardness melting away suddenly.

Rohit noticed the room number on the key in Virat's hand and said delightedly, "Look, we've got adjacent rooms! It's good, because I'm awful at waking up on time, and I don't like it when the seniors have to call me, it sounds too much like I'm in trouble. You can call me tomorrow though--if you're any good at punctuality?"

Rohit paused for breath and Virat said, "I'm pretty good at it, so don't worry, I'll wake you up."

"It'll take quite some effort," sighed Rohit as the two of them started to talk towards their floor together.

And just like that, they were talking like they had known each other for ages--it was always that way between the two of them.

They spent the evening in Rohit's room, and at one point, Virat took out his phone and asked for Rohit's number, which was when Rohit realized with dismay that his phone was not with him.

"I must have left it in the stadium," said Rohit in consternation.

"Tell someone immediately," urged Virat.

"It's the second time I've lost it this month," wailed Rohit. "Mahi bhai said he'll bench me for one match if I repeated it!"

"But how can you just lose your phone like that?" said Virat, shocked.

"I don't know. I'm defective that way, I guess," said Rohit, sounding so mournful that Virat couldn't help laughing.

"Don't laugh!" said Rohit. "What am I going to do, Mahi bhai will kill me... Virat! Can you tell Mahi bhai for me?" he asked, brightening.

"Do you think that's going to be of any use?" demanded Virat. "He'll just tell me to send you to him."

"Come with me--at least," begged Rohit.

"That I can do," said Virat obligingly, and they went to look for Mahi bhai.

***

Mahi bhai opened his door to find Rohit and Virat standing there.

"Mahi bhai," began Rohit nervously. "You see..."

Mahi took in Rohit's shifty demeanor, and Virat's half amused, half supportive look at Rohit, and his experienced mind saw a lot more than either of them could have imagined.

"Let me guess," he sighed. "You've left your phone back in the stadium again."

Rohit nodded, looking apprehensive.

Mahi bhai shook his head in exasperation and called one of their staff from his phone and instructed him to retrieve Rohit's phone.

"Thanks a lot, Mahi bhai," said Rohit, trying to edge out of the room. "See you--"

"Don't think I've forgotten my threat," said Mahi bhai sternly.

"Are you really going to bench me?" Rohit asked anxiously.

"Ideally, I should."

"Please don't do that, Mahi bhai," said Virat, surprising himself with his courage. "He'll not repeat it again."

Mahi bhai smiled knowingly. "Last chance, Rohit."

"Thank you!" cried Rohit in delight and he and Virat exchanged a grin.

As they skipped away, Mahi bhai's gaze lingered on them.

***

"It's really risky to leave your phone lying about!" Virat told Rohit that night. "Why do you do that?"

"I don't do it on purpose, you know," said Rohit sheepishly. 

Virat suddenly wanted to be friends with this guy more than he'd ever wanted to be friends with anyone.

***

The next morning, Virat found himself heartily wishing that he had never undertaken the ridiculous job of waking Rohit up.

After he had banged on Rohit's door for nearly half an hour, and called him about 50 times, Rohit finally deigned to wake up and receive the call.

"What happened?" he mumbled, clearly still half asleep.

"It's nearly 8:30, Rohit! We've got our flight in four hours!" said Virat, exasperated.

Rohit yawned. "Five minutes more."

"No! Absolutely no!" said Virat firmly. "Open your door this instant."

Grumbling, Rohit dragged himself off the bed and opened the door fumblingly.

"We didn't even sleep that late yesterday night," said Virat, shaking his head. "How can you feel so sleepy?"

"I dunno," said Rohit, yawning again.

"We're already late for breakfast. Come down in ten minutes," ordered Virat grimly.

"All right, all right," said Rohit placatingly.

"And you can tell someone else to wake you up from tomorrow," called Virat over his back.

"Hey--you can't back off now," protested Rohit. "You took the job, you're in for it."

"Really?" asked Virat.

"Yes," said Rohit simply.

Most precious moments of the duo: The press conference where captain Virat said, "You will drop Rohit Sharma from T20 internationals?" and laughed. And the press conference half a year later where captain Rohit said, "Virat Kohli ko confidence ki zarurat hai?" And laughed.

Also: When Virat made Rohit open in Tests against SA, 2019, Rohit reached his first Test century as opener in the first match itself, and Virat almost jumped out of the balcony in joy.

Chapter Text

January, 2009

It was the eve of Team India's flight to Sri Lanka from Mumbai for the 5-match ODI series. It was to be Ravindra Jadeja's debut series, too, a decision that was to affect Indian cricket for a long time to come, but the two youngsters, Rohit and Jaddu, firm friends by now, did not know or care about the future.

All they cared, presently, was where Mahi bhai had kept sneaking off to for the past two evenings, and was preparing to do today.

He even had on a tie.

A tie. 

"Mahi bhai never wears a tie," Rohit pointed out. "He simply cannot be bothered." 

"Which means there's more to this than meets the eye--" said Jaddu sinisterly. "Ah, wait. MAHI BHAI! MAHI BHAI!"

Mahi turned and sighed imperceptibly as two mussy-hairs boys bounded up to him.

"Yes, Jaddu?" he said patiently.

"Where are you going?" asked Jaddu innocently.

"To--uh, to meet a cousin of mine--"

Rohit and Jaddu exchanged a significant look.

Mahi bhai never stammered.

So there was most definitely more to the matter than met the eye.

***

They decided, of course, to tail Mahi bhai and investigate. They would have to take immense care not to be spotted, since their victim was an exceptionally sharp-witted one. He was also exceptionally good at tongue lashings. If they got caught, they were doomed.

So, extremely cautious and extremely excited, they had barely embarked upon their journey when Rohit's phone rang. Seeing the caller's name, Rohit's face fell with dismayed remembrance.

For a moment, he considered ignoring the call, but really, that would make forgiveness even harder to win. He motioned at Jaddu to stop for a while and received the call.

"Hello Ro," Virat sang cheerfully.

"Hello," said Rohit, rather glumly.

"Are you ready or have you just got out of bed?"

"I--er--" Rohit decided to get it over with. "I'm sorry I forgot all about the dinner, I--"

"I did not expect any less from you," assured Virat. "There's still time for us to go, if you don't fall asleep again."

Now Virat was not part of the squad and had not been travelling with the team. However, he happened to be have arrived at Mumbai for a family trip that day, and seeing that the Indian team left for Sri Lanka tomorrow, it was imperative they should go out for dinner today.

But Mahi bhai's mystery was too enticing to be ignored, and who knew when again they would get another chance to get to the bottom of it?

"I got a bit busy, Virat," began Rohit.

"Busy?" asked Virat impatiently. "What can you possibly be busy with on the eve of a tour? Stop being so lazy."

"Jaddu and I were going on a rather important mission," said Rohit desperately.

"Jaddu and you?" demanded Virat, not liking this at all.

Even though the three of them were all friends with each other, they had never hung out alone, never having played a series together.

"I can't believe you're cancelling--" Virat's voice had started to rise.

Now Jaddu, admittedly, possessed no tact, However, he had heard the conversation and did the simple, obvious thing.

He took the phone from Rohit and said, "Want to come and join us in stalking Mahi bhai, partner?"

Virat's voice perked up. "Stalking Mahi bhai? Whoa."

"I was rather expecting a yes or a no," drawled Jaddu. "Actually I was just expecting a yes."

"Of course it is a yes."

"Join us quick, texting you the address," said Jaddu, and he had disconnected the call and sent Virat the address before Rohit could say a word.

***

Mahi bhai went into a grand hotel. And instead of heading for the lift to go to the room of his 'cousin', he lingered in the reception, trying to talk up a pretty member of the staff who dropped her plastered smile and rolled her eyes when she saw him.

"You are back again?" she said.

Virat's jaw dropped (they were spying, hiding behind a large pillar).

"That is not the tone you take when Mahi bhai is back again," he whispered in agony.

"Yes, I, well, we are leaving tomorrow for Sri Lanka," said Mahi bhai in a flustered tone his younger brothers had never heard before. "So I wondered if I may have the privilege of bidding you a personal farewell."

Jaddu snorted with helpless laughter at the flowery language, which also they had never heard before. Rohit covered his mouth fiercely.

"Be quiet, Jaddu!" he hissed. Then he peered as far as he dared, squinting. "Sak--s--h--Sakshi," he said in triumph. "Her nametag says Sakshi."

Virat was still wide-eyed with horror.

"Why is this woman not pleased to have Mahi bhai coming to bid her a friendly farewell? I know I would be thrilled."

Rohit hit him on the head.

"He is trying to woo her, you dolt," he hissed, exasperated with his stupid friends. "He has not come here just to bid her a friendly farewell!"

Virat's eyes widened further with comprehension before he covered his face, shaking, whether overcome with horror or laughter Rohit could not say.

When he uncovered them, it turned out to be laughter.

"Epic," choked Virat. "Epic."

Jaddu nodded emphatically. "Blackmail weapon."

"Headline news," said Rohit.

"Joke of the century." Virat fell to his knees, choking worse than ever.

That set Jaddu and Rohit off, and soon all three of them were down on the carpeted floor, crying tears of laughter.

Till Rohit wiped his eyes and found a sweeper gazing at them with a broom held aloft.

"Jad, Vi, he's armed--run!"

Jaddu and Virat glanced upwards and sobered up quickly.

And under the baffled gaze of the sweeper, who of course had not dreamt of hitting them with the broom, the three scarpered out of the hotel and ran all the way back to their own.

***

They made sure they casually bumped into Mahi bhai that evening.

"You're here, are you?" Mahi bhai asked Virat, smiling and going up to give him a hug.

"Yes. Mahi bhai, you know," said Virat thoughtfully, "if I wasn't a cricketer, I'd really have liked working in a hotel."

"Oh yes," said Rohit. "Oh yes, in the welcome reception."

Jaddu nodded solemnly. "And I would want to work in the bigwig hotels. Imagine bumping into a superstar at the hotel reception while doing your job."

Mahi narrowed his eyes suspiciously.

"Why do I feel like you three know more than you should?"

Three cheeky grins flashed at him before the newly formed trio disappeared up the stairs.

Most precious moment of the trio: Rohit and Virat's emotionally charged high five when Jaddu reached his 50 in WC 2019 semi final.

Also, the heads up challenge where Jaddu mimicked Virat and Rohit guessed correctly!

Chapter Text

March, 2011

When the squad for World Cup 2011 began reporting, Virat was to be found dragging his suitcase with rather a heavy heart.

It was a nice occasion. His first World Cup kicking off. How many people even got the chance?

Still, he wished his friends were here to celebrate the moment with him. Rohit had been shattered after the squad was declared. Virat dared not update him about the goings-on in the camp. Jaddu was in some remote village outside Jamnagar where there was no network. 

And somehow, though he'd never found it difficult to barge into elders' conversation--

Viru paji and Gauti bhai were arguing about something (the former riling up the latter, from the looks of it) as usual; Raina was clinging on Mahi bhai's back as he spoke to Yuvi pa, and Ashish bhai was holding court to the rest out of which nobody but Zaheer bhai listened seriously.

--today, he couldn't bring himself barge in.

For the first time in an age, Virat felt self-conscious. What was he, a 22-year-old, even doing here, amongst a bunch of overachievers?

He felt his kit to check he hadn't forgotten anything.

Which was really weird, because he never forgot anything, and considered it an insult to even double-check.

As a result of his dawdling, he found himself getting into the bus last, and he spotted only one empty seat: next to that prim and uptight spinner, Ashwin.

He'd made his debut less than a year ago, so Virat and Rohit had got to know him a tiny bit, and goodness, the guy defined the term uptight. He used to look down his nose to Virat pouring water down Rohit's neck unawares in such a manner that Virat had started feeling ashamed. He spoke at team meetings in such a serious tone, holding his own against the seniors with the extraordinary amount of cricket statistics he seemed to know of, Rohit had wrinkled his nose and whispered to Virat, "Nerd."

Virat had nodded emphatically, recalling those kids at school with thick glasses who used to sit in the front bench, listening to every word the teacher spoke and casting disapproving glances at pranksters (including Virat).

Having to sit beside Ashwin was not how Virat would have envisioned his start to his first World Cup.

"'Morning," Virat said.

"It is past twelve," said Ashwin.

"So?"

"So it is no longer morning, it is afternoon."

Virat groaned inside his head. Ashwin turned back to the magazine he was reading. 'Developments in curating: A brief history,' the page flashed.

"Curating?" asked Virat, curious and disbelieving. "Pitch curating?"

Ashwin nodded.

"You are reading the history of pitch curating?" repeated Virat, just to be sure.

"Honestly, Virat," said Ashwin. "Can't you read?"

"I can," said Virat, nettled. "I simply could not believe anyone would read the history of pitch curating."

"I simply cannot believe a person would comment on others while they're reading instead of reading themselves."

Ashwin raised the magazine to eye level to block out Virat's dumbfounded expression.

***

Unfortunately, as Virat found out soon enough, Rohit's absence meant he was forced to talk to Ashwin a lot more than he'd have liked to. Of course, he could've kept quiet, but quiet simply didn't suit him. He liked to talk all the time as much as Ashwin hated it. So since Virat couldn't always summon up the courage to go and talk to the seniors, he fell back to badgering Ashwin about what he was reading, or thinking, even as he gave savage replies in clipped tones.

Things came to a head the day Virat found Ash reading the working of an Ouija board over dinner.

"What, moved on from cricket to paranormal?" asked Virat.

"You have a point, Virat?"

Virat thought it'd be insulting to admit he didn't have a point, so he improvised quickly, "If you're into paranormal stuff, I dare you to sit through my favourite horror movie without freaking out."

That made Ashwin look up with a frown. Virat knew Ashwin's sort couldn't bear to turn down a challenge, but he was also quite sure Ashwin had never watched a horror movie before, so if he flung his favourite (read, scariest) one on him, he would freak out worse than ever in his life.

"Okay," said Ash.

"And we can do a planchet while we're at it."

"Okay."

Virat was just slightly thrown off. But never mind, soon Ash would be wishing he'd never said okay to one of Virat Kohli's challenges.

***

Much to Virat's disappointment, Ash sat through the movie without flinching a second time.

When he didn't react at the scariest moment which Virat still had nightmares about every time he rewatched the movie, Virat asked, aggrieved, "Have you watched this before?"

"No. Why?"

"Enough of the movie," decided Virat. "The planchet. Will you do or will I?"

"Me," said Ash. "I'm excellent at it."

"You've done it before?"

Ash looked baffled. "Have you not? You suggested, so I thought--"

"A pen and a paper," broke in Virat. "Anything else?"

"A candle."

They had a tiff over whom they should call (Virat suggested Hilter, which Ash considered very insensitive, which Virat in turn considered very boring), and decided on Don Bradman.

They darkened the room, placed the sheet on the table and made the circle, copied the numbers and alphabets--well, Ash wrote them from memory, and Virat couldn't find anything to change when he checked with the sources on the net.

"We have to close our eyes, keep a finger inside the circle, and think of him with respect," commanded Ash. "Come on."

Virat, inwardly sniffing about how serious Ash seemed--as if Don Bradman was really going to appear--obeyed.

He didn't believe in anything supernatural, yet he felt a chill settle down upon them as Ash started chanting, requesting Don Bradman to show himself.

"This is a request to Sir Don Bradman...if you can hear us, please show yourself..."

Around, things seemed to be getting unnaturally quiet.

Virat felt something on the back of his neck and shivered.

Imagining...he was imagining things...

"...a request to Sir Don Bradman..."

How was it getting so cold?

"...please show yourself..."

Virat was already wound up after the movie, and as a sharp breeze whistled in through the window, rustling the curtains, he jumped out of his skin. 

A shadow jumped. 

Virat screamed.

"Stop--stop it--Ash, stop it!"

Ash jerked out of his reverie. "What?"

"What's happening?"

"Don Bradman's coming to visit us," said Ash in an obvious way.

"He--I've changed my mind," said Virat, swallowing. "I don't want to talk to bygone spirits."

Ash looked astonished. "But you were the one who said you wanted to. I've seen lots of people who can't stomach planchet, of course, but you said--"

"I didn't think--I didn't believe--"

"What, you didn't believe it would happen?" said Ash in a bored voice.

"No--no, of course not," stammered Virat. "Did you?"

"Obviously I did, Virat. I was the one doing it."

"Are you saying you wouldn't have believed it would happen if I was the one performing it?" asked Virat.

"Yes," said Ash.

If Virat's heart hadn't been racing so fast, he might've come up with a suitable retort. Instead, all he said in a rather small voice was, "Can I stay over for the night?"

"I hope you don't kick in your sleep."

***

From that day onwards, Virat would think twice before calling Ash boring.

He might go as far as to say Ash was the most interesting person he'd ever met, and by the time a month had gone by, he was glad Ash was in the World Cup squad, at least, even if Rohit and Jaddu weren't.

Ashwin would probably never admit even to himself that he was glad Virat was in the squad with him--he was loath to be dependent on anyone at all--but it could not be denied that over the tour, he read a lot less, spoke a lot more, and felt tiny bursts of triumph every time he managed to impress Virat Kohli into speechlessness.

***

Chapter Text

December, 2012

When Virat arrived at the team hotel in Bangalore for the 1st T20 against Pakistan, he was annoyed to see that they had got double rooms and his roommate wasn't Rohit. Not only was it not Rohit, it was someone he didn't even know.

Bhuvneshwar Kumar.

Must be the debutant.

Virat ran down to the reception with purpose.

"Mahi bhai!"

Dhoni, who was talking with the receptionist, turned.

"Rohit hasn't arrived yet, but he can stay with me, can't he? My roommate and his can stay in the other room."

"I deliberately set you two in different rooms," said Mahi bhai drily.

"Why?"

"Well, Bhuvneshwar is new in the team. I think you should try to--"

"I don't even know him! Rohit has got Jaddu, make Jaddu my roommate if you don't want me and Ro together."

"It's not like I don't want you and Rohit together. I want you and the new guy together."

"I don't understand half the things you say, Mahi bhai," grumbled Virat.

Mahi bhai caught sight of someone suddenly. "There he is," he said happily.

Virat looked around. There was no one in the reception--at least, no one who could be a senior team player, anyway.

The only one in sight was a ridiculously thin child with eyes and expression that would have suited a 10-year-old kid better than his tall profile.

Mahi bhai strode forward.

Surely this couldn't be Bhuvneshwar!

Virat followed his captain uncertainly. Mahi bhai shook hands with the awed kid and said, "Welcome to the team, Bhuvneshwar. Most of the guys haven't arrived yet, but he's going to be your roommate in this hotel--you'll have heard of Virat, of course."

Bhuvneshwar looked at Virat before quickly looking away. "Yes..." he said in a scared sort of voice.

Mahi bhai looked at Virat expectantly.

Virat sighed and decided that as Rohit hadn't come yet, he might as well do what Mahi bhai wanted him to.

"Well, I'll take you up to our room then," he told the kid, his voice coming out rather loud and aggressive.

"Thanks," said Bhuvneshwar, still not quite meeting Virat's eyes, and sounding even more scared.

Virat grabbed one of the suitcases from him and lugged it to the lift. Bhuvneshwar followed behind with the other.

Virat wasn't fond of silences, so, in the lift, he decided to formally introduce himself.

"Virat," he said, extending his hand.

"Bhuvneshwar," said his companion shaking his hand timidly.

Virat wrinkled his nose. "What kind of a name is Bhuvneshwar? How do people call you by a name like Bhuvneshwar? Suppose you take a wicket. We'll say, 'Well done, Bhuvneshwar?' ...'Nice catch, Bhuvneshwar?' Seriously?"

Bhuvneshwar was smiling by now, admittedly a little nervously, but Virat considered it a major achievement to have made the frightened kid smile.

"They don't always call me by my full name," he said.

His voice was so gentle. How uncommon in fast bowlers!

"What kind of short form could we use? Bhuvnesh...?" speculated Virat, as the lift reached their floor. "No...Bhuv--Bhuvi?"

Bhuvneshwar was looking at Virat with almost no fear now.

"Bhuvi is a nice name, isn't it! Isn't it?" shouted Virat, turning to him enthusiastically.

"Yes, it's quite nice," said Bhuvi mildly.

Virat clapped him on the shoulder as he opened their room.

"That's your bed, Bhuvi," said Virat, grinning delightedly as he said the name.

As Bhuvi went over to his bed, Virat murmured absentmindedly, "Well done, Bhuvi...nice ball, Bhuvi...go to fine leg, Bhuvi..."

Then he noticed Bhuvi staring at him, smiling in the rather shy manner that Virat soon discovered was his nature.

"You're really proud of that name," observed Bhuvi un-sarcastically.

"I am," said Virat, laughing.

***

Bhuvi's unnaturally childish looks intrigued Virat. He reclined on his bed and observed owlishly as Bhuvi was unpacking.

Halfway through, Bhuvi caught sight of him and asked nervously, "What?"

"I'm waiting for the teddy bear to come out," snorted Virat.

"Teddy bear?" asked Bhuvi, looking confused.

Virat slapped his forehead. "Never mind, go on with your unpacking."

Bhuvi obediently bent over again.

"Tomorrow is Christmas Eve," said Virat suddenly. "I bet Santa Claus comes to give you presents every year, doesn't he?"

"But Santa Claus isn't real, Virat," said Bhuvi earnestly.

"He is, for people like you," said Virat with a snigger.

"People like me?" Bhuvi scrunched his nose in confusion.

Bhuvi was so gullible.

"You know...the good kids...the angelic kids..." said Virat, his voice trembling with supressed laughter.

"Oh! You're just messing around with me," sighed Bhuvi unhappily, realization dawning on his face.

"You're dense," Virat told him. "Really, really dense."

"Do you mean stupid?" enquired Bhuvi in all seriousness.

Virat properly observed Bhuvi's wide brown eyes for the first time. The look of childish innocence in them made him regret teasing the kid.

"No, no," said Virat painfully. "I don't mean stupid." He loped over to Bhuvi's bed. "D'you need help with the unpacking? 'Cause you're slow, too."

Bhuvi looked embarrassed and Virat hastened to say remorsefully, "No, you're not slow, but I'm free. Need any help?"

"Thanks," Bhuvi accepted happily.

That teasing Bhuvi brought on immediate regret was a lesson Virat learnt the very first day they met.

Most precious moment of the duo: Virat, in one of the most controversial decisions in the last decade in one of the most important matches in the last decade chose Bhuvi over Shami in the semi final vs NZ, WC 2019, and Bhuvi justified his faith with a great performance.

Chapter Text

December, 2012

Bhuvi was not a hypocrite.

He admitted he was a judgemental sort of person. So he didn't judge when other people judged. Him, or anyone else. He was quite sympathetic with the whole business of judging.

When he first came into the team, sharing a room with Virat, it turned out, had integrated him into the mainstream. Rohit, of a calmer disposition than Virat and with an inherent kindness in his stance that Bhuvi hadn't seen in many people their age, hit off instantly with him. Ash, with his quiet voice of reason, even if he did intimidate Bhuvi quite a bit, felt to him a kindred spirit. 

The only one among Virat's friends who truly scared him was Ravindra Jadeja.

Which brought him back to the matter of judgements: almost everyone in the team was to be found giving him judgmental looks 80% of the time.

He'd burst out laughing like a raving lunatic in the midst of team meetings or practice sessions, he'd not stop at filling even Yuvi pa's suitcase with shaving cream twice a day, he'd talk about drowning lizards and drowning humans in such tones that Bhuvi had difficulty believing he was joking even as the others laughed.

"HEY, BHUVI," was how Jaddu first addressed him. "HOW'D YOU LIKE TO GO HUNTING CATS?"

Bhuvi shrank back, and unknown to himself, wrinkled his nose.

"No, thanks," he said faintly. "I don't--I don't like--hunting cats."

"There," said Rohit smugly. "We'd put PETA on your tail one day, Jaddu, you'll see."

"Hunting cats is fun, though." Jaddu winked at Bhuvi, who frowned.

"Hunting any sort of animal isn't very kind," he protested.

"Lizards, then," coaxed Jaddu. "Let's burn a lizard."

Bhuvi backed away further. Rohit hit Jaddu on the head.

"Stop it. Stop scaring people away, Jad!"

Bhuvi took the opportunity to slip away cautiously. Virat caught him as he sprinted down the corridor.

"Who are you running from?" asked Virat.

"I'm not--I'm not running from anyone," said Bhuvi, embarrassed, and resolved never to give Jaddu the chance to talk to him at all, to avoid situations like these.

***

Jaddu was never to be deterred, however.

The more Bhuvi tried to avoid him, the more persistent he became, the gleam in his eye getting wickeder by the day. 

Bhuvi was glad he was sharing a room with Virat; otherwise he'd not have been able to sleep at night, fearing a prank of Jaddu's targeting him. However, presently, he seemed to have developed a firm faith that Virat wouldn't let anything happen to him.

Jaddu would offer him to take part in all sort of crazy escapades; then he would offer him all sorts of crazy, brightly-coloured drinks that sent off alarm bells in Bhuvi's head; he would tell him the most outrageous jokes that would've been very offensive indeed to the ones being targeted. Alongside, Jaddu made Mahi bhai and the hotel staff's life hell by constantly keeping them on tenterhooks because no one knew what he'd next do, and what was worse, he seemed unlikely to stop at anything.

Which led to Bhuvi giving him more and more judgmental looks by the day, which, unfortunately, only seemed to encourage Jaddu.

***

On Christmas Eve, Bhuvi was on the terrace, just having finished a long call to his family. It was to be his debut tomorrow, against Pakistan--no less--so everyone wanted to wish him luck personally.

Nervousness had made him so jittery, he'd even forgotten to wish his sister Merry Christmas.

Over the parapet of the terrace, he spotted a lanky figure striding out of the hotel with a large backpack.

Bhuvi recognized the gait: it was Jaddu, of course. Who else would be sneaking out like that an hour to midnight the day before a match?

He did not have any idea what instinct made him scale down the stairs and slip after Jaddu. Spying was truly not his style. But curiosity was an irresistible flaw, and Bhuvi had never been good at denying its biddings.

Jaddu led him to the bridge nearby. Underneath, the homeless were gathered in dozens, shivering against the winter chill. Intrigued more than ever, Bhuvi inched closer.

Jaddu was unloading his bag now. It contained food. The fancy Christmassy sort, fruit cakes and cookies and sweets wrapped in shiny boxes.

He'd brought them, it appeared for the street kids.

A lot of the chill seemed to have vanished as the homeless kids had a treat they'd probably never had in their lifetime, and never would. It was almost as if Santa Claus had paid them a visit in the form of a lanky, laughing spirit with a glittering gaze. 

The clock struck twelve. It was Christmas day.

Almost unable to process what he'd just saw, Bhuvi darted away.

***

Christmas, 2012

Jaddu had almost returned to the hotel when he found a thin shadow observing him from the, well, the shadows.

"Oh--hello, Bhuvi!" he said. "What are you lurking in the dark for?"

Bhuvi emerged into the fairy lights of the street. His brows were furrowed. Jaddu wondered with amusement and just a hint of nervousness if he'd done anything to garner Bhuvi's disapproval again.

"Just--er--" Bhuvi went flaming red.

Jaddu raised his eyebrows.

"What?" he demanded. "WHAT?"

Bhuvi winced at the noise, but his nose didn't quite wrinkle the way it normally did when Jaddu caused chaos, like he was an unpleasant species of a zoo.

"I am, um, sorry," blurted out Bhuvi unexpectedly.

"What for?" asked Jaddu in total bafflement.

"Do you know the kids?"

Jaddu grinned nervously. "K-kids?"

"The street kids, Jaddu," said Bhuvi, the first time he used the nickname. "I saw you."

"Ah, well, right," said Jaddu, going red in his turn. "No, I don't--I don't know them."

"That was a really nice thing you did," said Bhuvi. "Why are you acting like you were caught over a dark deed?"

"Oh!" Jaddu wondered if he'd been that obvious. "You see, it's just a secret pact of my sister and me."

Bhuvi didn't directly ask what it was, but his eyes did. Jaddu found it was difficult to ignore the question.

"We saw a bad plight of homeless kids long back on Christmas eve, in a village near our place," said Jaddu. "We realized we couldn't make all the homeless kids of the country happy, just the two of us, but we could try a bit, each Christmas eve."

Bhuvi was silent.

Jaddu felt compelled to break it.

"You said sorry for spying on me?"

"No," said Bhuvi, and decided to be honest. "I thought you were insensitive and crazy, but you're not. You're a good person, Jaddu."

Jaddu thought he should be insulted by someone saying he was not crazy, but no one had ever called him a good person, either, least of all in such an innocent and earnest manner.

Maybe that wasn't a bad thing to be.

However, he didn't have the faintest idea about how to reply, so he laughed.

For the first time, Bhuvi laughed along with him.

Till, at any rate, Jaddu's laugh crossed the normal boundary and entered the maniacal zone, echoing off the trees and buildings in a terrifying manner.

"Jaddu!" hissed Bhuvi, truly terrified. "Don't--it's past midnight!"

That made Jaddu laugh harder, and he clung on to Bhuvi as they staggered back to the hotel, which meant that Bhuvi couldn't even pretend he didn't know this creature.

The hotel staff gazed in horror, till one of them, a brave one, shouted, "EXCUSE ME, SILENCE PLEASE!"

A mortified Bhuvi dragged Jaddu to the lift. He'd never been so mortified in his life.

But he no longer felt judgmental, and somehow, he knew he'd never judge Jaddu again.

His heart was in the right place. He was just packaged in a crazy exterior.

Till Jaddu whispered, "I've sneaked a whiskey in my room, Bhuvi, want to try?"

Bhuvi almost wrinkled his nose again. Almost.

"We have a match tomorrow," he said.

"Your debut," said Jaddu brightly. "Well, if you're turning down whiskey for a match, bet you get a wicket first ball! Hang on--do you drink?"

"No," said Bhuvi, as prim as he could be.

Jaddu laughed, then, and he laughed again when Bhuvi actually took a wicket the first ball of his T20 debut the next day. Bhuvi couldn't help but laugh, too.

Luckily, the Chinnaswamy crowd was roaring too much to cover Jaddu and he didn't make the headlines for the wrong reasons.

"Abstinence," said Jaddu, when he'd reached Bhuvi and pulled him into an enormous hug. "It works."

"Take it as your New Year resolution," said Bhuvi encouragingly.

Jaddu laughed.

***

Chapter Text

February, 2013

When Ajinkya Rahane came into the Indian Test team in late 2013, he introduced himself to the team as 'Ajinkya'.

Virat, who had had issues with big, confusing names for a long time, frowned.

"Ajinkya..." he muttered. "Ajinkya..."

Rahane looked plainly confused.

Mahi bhai threw Virat a warning look. Virat subsided, making up his mind to think of a nickname later.

In the first practice session of the season, Virat was batting in the nets with Bhuvi bowling. Rahane was waiting beside Virat for his turn.

Rahane was quiet and withdrawn, maybe a little awkward in a group of people who already knew each other for months and were really close. Bhuvi, under Rahane's influence, went quiet as well, and Virat was starting to feel uncomfortable about the silence, so he suggested taking a break after an hour.

Bhuvi joined Virat on the ground. Virat indicated Rahane to sit down too, and he complied with a small smile.

"Bhuvi," whined Virat to break the silence. "Bhuvi!"

"Yes?" asked Bhuvi mildly.

"Your name is weird, so we gave you a super nickname," said Virat, broaching the topic.

"Yes...so?"

"Ajinkya's name is just as weird, so he deserves a nickname too, doesn't he?"

"I have a nickname," said Rahane hastily. "My parents call me Ajju."

Virat snorted in disgust. "Ajju is a very bad name."

Bhuvi looked horrified at his reaction, but he only said tentatively, "It's not that bad, Virat."

"Ajinkya...Ajinkya...Ajinkya...."

Bhuvi had experience in this field, of course, so he sent a sympathetic glance at Rahane.

Rahane was looking at Virat curiously.

"Jinks. Jinks," said Virat. "JINKS!"

Jinks drew back, alarmed at his sudden overexcitement.

"Jinks?" repeated Bhuvi.

"Isn't it cool?" Virat asked Bhuvi.

"No, it's not," said Jinks firmly, before Bhuvi could reply. "It's terrible. Please call me Ajju."

Virat looked utterly disappointed to see his wonderful invention being greeted so.

"I won't call you Ajju," said Virat. "Jinks is so much better!"

"Virat," began Jinks.

"Why are you three sitting here and bunking practice?" demanded Jaddu, coming up.

Virat stood up quickly. "We aren't bunking practice..."

The other three looked at him, deadpanning.

"Well, we were," admitted Virat. "But we were doing an important thing, giving him a nickname." He prodded Jinks on the head.

Jaddu was grinning. "What did you decide on?"

"Jinks," said Virat. "Short for Ajinkya. He loves his new nickname," he lied cheerfully.

"Really?" said Jinks drily.

"Come back and practice!" called Virat, bolting for the nets, as if they had been the ones blabbering away.

Jinks and Bhuvi followed him.

***

It became a sport after that. Virat calling him Jinks. Jinks trying not to reply.

"Jinks! Are you coming down for breakfast?" yelled Virat, barging into Jinks' room.

Jinks kept quiet.

"I'll take that as a yes," said Virat, not a bit offended at the snub.

"I'm coming," said Jinks, because he hadn't mentioned the name in the previous sentence.

They walked down together, Virat bombarding questions at a rate of hundred per minute, trying to trick him into answering to Jinks.

"Which batsman do you look up to the most?"

"Rahul Dravid," said Jinks. "You?"

"Sachin sir, of course," said Virat. "Though Rahul sir is very great too; we're lucky to have so many legends aren't we, Jinks?"

Jinks sent him a sideways glance and remained quiet.

Virat changed tack and continued.

"What is your favourite colour?"

"Um...orange?"

"Mine is red. What is your favourite number?"

"I dunno," said Jinks. "27 maybe. Yours is 18?"

"Yes, and 10 too, and Jinks, what is your favourite animal?"

Jinks slapped his forehead, but he had started to laugh too.

"You're completely nuts," said Jinks, the first time of many, many times he would say so in the future.

"You responded to 'Jinks'!" said Virat triumphantly.

"No, I did not! I did not say what my favourite animal is!"

Virat sighed. But he would succeed.

***

By two Tests of the Border Gavaskar trophy, Virat had noticed something about Rahane.

He was brimming full with compassion.

Though he was new to the team himself, he always had a nice word for anyone who'd dropped a catch, or scored low, and was, in general, feeling low. Nobody who asked for help was ever turned down by Jinks. He stopped to smile at every fan of India's who bawled out their lungs at the sight of the Indian cricket team. He treated children like they were grown-ups so they never felt little.

So a light went off in Virat's head.

In the practice session before the first day of the third Test, Virat and Jinks were batting in adjacent nets.

At a delivery from Ashwin, Virat attempted a slog sweep and fell down, giving a most realistic yell-groan.

"Ow! Ow, ow, ow!"

Ash stopped, uncertain. What was wrong with this guy? He couldn't have actually fallen down after that shot.

Rahane rushed towards Virat, who saw him out of the corner of his eye.

"Jinks," howled Virat.

"Yes," said Jinks in concern. "Did you hurt yourself?"

"Will you please bring me an ice pack, Jinks?"

"Of course." Jinks rushed to obey.

By the time he'd returned, Virat was taking guard again. Ash was ready to bowl.

"You should give the foot a bit of rest." Jinks held out the ice pack. "Here--"

"What foot?" asked Virat innocently.

"Your--injured one?"

"I didn't injure my foot, Jinks," said Virat brightly. "And you replied to Jinks. You brought the ice pack."

Jinks stared at him in disbelief.

Then he turned to look at Ash, who rolled his eyes and shrugged in a way that said, Are you stupid?

Jinks was honestly at a loss of words.

"Since you responded once to Jinks, you'll always respond to Jinks from now. It's the rule."

"No it's not. It was a one-time occurrence," said Jinks firmly.

"Ajinkya Rahane, I never fail," swore Virat.

***

And he didn't. Not by some great plan of action or anything, but by plain pig-headed persistence.

Of course Jinks gave in at the end, laying down the condition that no one else called him that, too.

Unfortunately, he was not granted that.

***

Most precious moment of the duo: In an unforgettable moment, Jinks ran Virat out in Adelaide, 2020, and almost killed himself with the guilt, but Virat did not shout, did not abuse, and when Jinks apologized later, Virat assured it was okay and that they still had the second innings (we all know what sort of second innings we had).

Also: Virat, on Jinks's birthday, called him 'Jinksy' in his wish and Jinks retaliated by calling him Cheeku in the thank you post.

Chapter Text

February, 2013

10 years later, the Border Gavaskar Trophy, 2013, would be remembered as:

1st Test

1st innings

Ashwin-Jadeja: 9 wickets

Pacers: 1 wicket

2nd innings

Ashwin-Jadeja: 9 wickets

Pacers: 1 wicket

2nd Test

1st innings

Ashwin-Jadeja: 9 wickets

Pacers: 1 wicket

Innings defeat

3rd Test

1st innings

Ashwin-Jadeja: 7 wickets

Pacers: 3 wickets

2nd innings

Ashwin-Jadeja: 9 wickets

Pacers: 1 wicket

4th Test

1st innings

Ashwin-Jadeja: 9 wickets

Pacers: 1 wicket

2nd innings

Ashwin-Jadeja: 9 wickets

Pacers: 1 wicket

***

So it can be appreciated easily, when Team India went out for a celebratory lunch after the 1st Test ended, Ash and Jaddu were in high spirits. 

Jaddu openly was, howling with laughter louder than usual, cracking offensive jokes every ten minutes, shaking Bhuvi out of his quiet trance of enjoying the landscape of Chennai on the bus by screeching like a werewolf in his ears and startling the poor driver so out of his wits that he nearly drove into a ditch.

Ash was in high spirits much more quietly, which is to say, he didn't have his nose buried in a magazine, and had consented to play quiz with Rohit, Virat and Shikhar, and was soon owning the game, and was quite disappointed when they reached their destination and had to get off the bus.

"Game paused," said Rohit.

"Game disbanded," said Virat.

"No, it is to be continued on the journey back," said Ashwin in protest.

"You wish," muttered Shikhar and they swiftly went out of earshot.

Ashwin smirked at their backs. He'd shown them who the winner was, eh? 

He was about to follow when he caught sight of Jaddu, who'd started to scale a lamppost beside the road.

"Jaddu, what are you doing?" asked Ash in exasperation. 

"Spying," called back Jaddu.

Ash sighed. He could never figure this guy out, which was saying a lot. He was good at figuring people out.

The others had pulled ahead. Ash was surprised they'd not realized by now that Jaddu always needed to have a nanny looking after him, so he sighed again and resigned himself to the role.

"Jaddu--"

"Ooh, Ash, look!" said Jaddu gleefully from his spot on the lamppost. "That guy is eating maggi. I want maggi."

Ash shook his head to clear his ears.

"You want what?"

"Maggi."

"Fine. Let's go to the grocer's. We passed one a minute back."

"Where will we cook it?" demanded Jaddu.

Fair point.

"I am sure we can find a roadside stall that sells maggi, Jaddu. Will you please come down from the lamppost before we lose the others?"

"That guy left the room," said Jaddu, clearly not having heard a word Ash had said. "What say we sneak the plate out?"

Ash cast his eyes over the grilled window.

"You're thin, but you're not that thin," he said drily.

Jaddu produced a long wire from his pocket. It was so long Ashwin wondered how he'd even fit that in.

"We'll make tongs," proposed Jaddu. "And pull the plate out."

"Are you stupid?" said Ashwin.

"Come on up," said Jaddu magnanimously. "I'll show you."

"No, thanks."

Jaddu gave him a look like, your loss, and hanging onto the lamppost with just his knees, began tying knots in the wire.

"You'll fall," said Ashwin, genuinely concerned he would.

"Then come up and prevent my fall, Ash," said Jaddu in a sickly sweet tone.

Ashwin was about to say no thanks again, but he couldn't. He couldn't let his spin partner fall and break his neck--the first Test had been too much fun, cleaning up the Aussie line-up, planning with Jaddu. The next three Tests wouldn't be half as much fun if Jaddu was bundled up in a hospital.

Wondering how he'd found himself in this situation, Ashwin climbed up the lamppost and kept a cautionary hold on Jaddu's waist as the latter modelled his tongs. He could see through the window into the room, now--it had an unattended plate of maggi on the table against the window. It must have gone quite cold, but Ashwin knew there was no point in pointing that out to Jaddu.

"You do realize the plate will overturn even if you manage to catch it in your tongs, right?"

"Watch and learn, Ash--"

Ashwin rolled his eyes.

The tongs were ready. Jaddu started pushing it towards the window.

"THIEF!" shouted someone.

Ashwin looked around, heart pounding. Sunglassed and heavily bundled up in coats that they were, the pedestrians did not seem to have recognized them as the Ravichandran Ashwin and Ravindra Jadeja as they pointed wildly up at the two of them atop the lamppost in the process of thrusting their makeshift tongs into the window.

"THIEF! THIEF!"

"Oops," drawled Jaddu.

Ash began to appreciate how suspicious they looked. Forget suspicion, they looked definite thieves.

They were being definite thieves.

"Er, Jad," he said nervously. "Maybe we should--"

The shouts of the pedestrians had called on a thicker crowd. Ash clung on the lamppost, frozen with horror--they could not scale down, they could not explain themselves--

Jaddu started sliding down.

"Jad!" hissed Ashwin. "What--?"

"What's going on?" boomed an official-sort of voice.

"Officer, they were trying to break into your place--"

The policeman looked up, glaring.

Good Lord, had they attempted to steal maggi from a police officer's house?

"Come on, Ash!" Jaddu called.

Ashwin lost his senses and decided to follow whatever he was told. He scaled down the lamppost, landed beside Jaddu, and he might have grasped Jaddu's hand in terror, though he would always deny it in the future.

"What exactly do you two mean?" demanded the policeman, stepping forward.

"When I say run--" murmured Jaddu.

"No!" said Ash.

"What?" asked the policeman.

"No," said Ash, more softly. "We can't run--"

"When I say run, jump to your left," said Jaddu.

The policeman had nearly reached them, his hands lifted threateningly.

"RUN!"

Ash had no choice. He was clutching Jaddu's fingers too hard to let go and Jaddu had jumped to their left. So Ash jumped, too.

Next thing he knew, they were sprinting down an alleyway in the direction they'd come from, India's-best-fielder-style.

"STOP RIGHT THERE. YOU ARE UNDER ARREST."

Jaddu laughed like a maniac.

"Jaddu," gasped Ashwin.

"No worries, Ash."

Booted feet ran after them. Not one. Several.

"No worries?" Ash asked, looking around.

A full bunch of uniformed policemen were sprinting after them. So were many random pedestrians who'd joined the chase along the way.

"They're chasing us, Jad--"

Jaddu laughed harder than ever. "The exercise will do 'em good, Ash."

"You know we can't outrun the police, right?"

"Maybe we can't," said Jaddu, stopping with a jerk. "But they can."

Ashwin looked around. They were at a small, deserted stables along the street. The pair of smelly horses inside neighed at them.

"You can't--" spluttered Ashwin.

Jadeja climbed over into the stables and released the catch and urged the two horses out into the open.

"C'mon," he said.

"I can't ride a horse," said Ashwin in horror.

"It's easy," promised Jaddu. "Get on and hold on."

"I can't--"

The policemen pursuing them had come too close for comfort. Ashwin closed his eyes and decided on the only line of action that might prevent him getting arrested in his hometown: trust Jaddu.

He mirrored whatever Jaddu did, and within seconds, they were both mounted on horses.

"Giddyup!" commanded Jaddu and pulled the reins; Ash did the same.

And their rides took off.

***

Ashwin remembered screaming his lungs out as his horse jumped over a bundle of crates and took a sharp turn into the main road, passers-by diving out of the way, chaos spreading all around.

"JADDU!"

"JUST HOLD ON."

Ash held on to the reins for dear life as they bumpily flew by, both of them shouting: one out of jubilation, the other out of mortal fear.

People waved to them like they were kings on a round as they went. Jaddu waved back, beaming. Ash removed his sunglasses for better clarity and immediately regretted it.

"That was my neighbour," wailed Ashwin. "They'll tell Mom and Dad and Preethi!"

"They will be proud," assured Jaddu.

"Yeah, right!"

They whizzed by, the streets of Chennai blurring alongside. Ash just concentrated on holding on, still not quite convinced it wasn't a very weird dream.

They'd lost since lost their pursuers, of course. Who could chase a pair of horses being driven by a pair of maniacs?

"What will happen to the horses?" shouted Ashwin against the whistling wind as they neared their hotel.

"We'll tell Mahi bhai to return them!" came the answer without hesitation.

"Mahi bhai will kill us," said Ash.

"No, he won't," said Jaddu comfortingly. "At most, he'll ground us."

Ashwin couldn't imagine the humiliation.

"I suppose being grounded is better than getting arrested," he thought aloud.

"Got your priorities right, Ash."

Jaddu laughed and laughed and laughed all the way back, and they reached their hotel without further mishap. They rode in through the gates in grand fashion, street kids cheering them on.

Ash would be lying if he said his legs weren't trembling when he alighted. His heart was still going a million beats a minute.

"I told you," said Jaddu. "No worries."

***

That day, Ravichandran Ashwin learnt a lifelong lesson the hard way:

Don't ever trust Jaddu.

Well, unless absolutely necessary.

In that case, trust Ravindra Jadeja with your life.

M ost precious moment of the duo has to be the above Tweet, during the semi final of the 2019 WC. Ashwin's faith in his twin still brings tears to my eyes.

Also, in 2017, for a stretch, they JOINTLY topped Test bowler rankings. Stuff of dreams.

They played an ODI together after ages yesterday...I never dreamt it would happen, but God, it was like having childhood back for a day.

Chapter Text

March, 2013

"Urgh," groaned Virat over a very late dinner. "Urgh."

"What is wrong with you?" asked Jinks.

"We've won two hard-fought Tests--"

"Hard fought?" put in Jaddu.

"--two hard-fought Tests against Australia, we are to play the third Test in a couple of days and we are in Punjab. And yet the hotel will give us this sort of non-Punjabi food."

A hotel staff passed by. He might as well as overheard.

"Don't speak so loudly, Virat," said Jinks in a whisper. "It's really rude."

"He is really rude," said Jaddu promptly. "To ask him to be polite is like asking a dog to moo."

Over the roar of laughter at the stupid comment, Virat shouted, "I want Punjabi food right now."

"You'll have to do without," said Ash severely.

"I want it too," said Shikhar, who was on the opposite end of the table and had overheard only because Virat had shouted so loud. "I can't eat this stuff in Mohali."

"See?" Virat stood up with a triumphant look at Jinks, Jaddu and Ashwin. "C'mon, Shikhar, let's leave this mundane idiots behind."

"Where are you going?" asked Mahi bhai suspiciously as Virat and Shikhar were slinking towards the door barely five minutes after they'd sat to eat.

"We--" stammered Virat. "We--"

Shikhar caught sight of Bhuvi coming down the staircase, and improvised quickly. "We're taking Bhuvi on a tour of Mohali!"

Bhuvi paused in his tracks.

"Yeah, see you later, Mahi bhai," said Virat.

He and Shikhar grabbed an arm each of Bhuvi and propelled him out of the hotel.

***

"You're taking me on a tour of Mohali?" asked Bhuvi, innocently. "That's--er, that's nice of you."

"Oh, god," muttered Virat to Shikhar. "Now we have to take him on a tour of Mohali."

"Why?" asked Shikhar. "Why can we just not tell him the truth?"

Because it's Bhuvi, and I hate fooling or lying to or taking advantage of Bhuvi, Virat was about to say.

But Shikhar was already explaining the Punjani food scenario to Bhuvi, or the lack of it thereof.

"So we're going to hunt down the restaurant that sells the most unhealthy, most dripping of butter and ghee Punjabi food within ten kilometres, and--"

"Ten kilometres?" asked Virat.

"Yep," said Shikhar, and turned back to Bhuvi. "And you're going to have a treat. Much better than the lousy food to be got at the hotel."

"Ten kilometres?" asked Bhuvi.

"Yep," said Shikhar. "But don't worry much. Ten kilometres is the upper bound. If we're lucky, we might get that restaurant within 500 metres."

Bhuvi looked at Virat, but unfortunately for him, Virat loved the idea. Anything insane, and Virat loved it. He didn't even know how predictable he was, and if they'd had Jinks or Rohit or Ash with them, they'd have hit Virat and Shikhar over the head. However, Bhuvi found nothing at all to say.

***

Their hotel had been sort of on the outskirts of Mohali, so the lucky 500 metres was ruled out almost at once.

They had to walk three kilometres just to enter the main city. Then two of the first restaurants they found was turned down by Shikhar at first glance. The third was turned down by both Shikhar and Virat.

"What was wrong with that one?" asked Bhuvi, glancing at his wristwatch, which showed nearly 10.

"The music blaring out was in poor taste," said Virat, and Shikhar high-fived him with a, "Exactly!"

They walked another half hour for the next restaurant. A starving Bhuvi almost begged them to choose this one, but "The name is silly," insisted Virat and Shikhar.

Bhuvi looked seriously put out. Virat put an arm around him, saying, "It's going to be worth the wait and the walk, you'll see, Bhuvi."

They walked for another half-hour. Most of the streets they passed now were dark. Most shutters were drawn.

Shikhar and Virat were beginning to feel foolish. But they'd begun the journey, and neither would give up without seeing it to the end, and their companion was too overwhelmed to set them straight, too, so they walked on and on in a trance.

Loud music broke the trance. They'd pulled alongside a wedding mandap, flashing brilliant lights.

Bhuvi took advantage of the pause.

"All the restaurants are closed by now," he said timidly. "Should we not go back? I don't think there is any way for you both to get Punjabi food today--maybe you can try tom--"

"Well, I hate to break it to you, Bhuvi," said Shikhar, "but there is."

Shikhar's eyes turned to the mandap, then to Virat.

And Virat knew he had found his soulmate.

***

The sneaking in part was easy. Shikhar led the way like a cat, and Virat followed, firmly holding Bhuvi's forearm.

Unfortunately, they were recognized as soon as they stepped in.

"VIRAT KOHLI!" shouted a kid.

All eyes turned to them, and gazes turned disbelieving.

"Shikhar Dhawan!" shouted the kid's friend. "Bhuvaneshwar Kumar!"

"It's not BhuvAneshwar," said Virat, because Bhuvi was really tired of that distortion of his name. "It's--"

"Um, Virat?" broke in Shikhar.

Now the gazes had turned partly laced with suspicion. People, of course, had a hard time believing this dimwitted creature, no matter how much his face resembled Virat Kohli's, could actually be Virat Kohli.

A bunch of elderly men strode up to them, asking, "Who are you? What do you want?"

"We're Virat Kohli, Shikhar Dhawan and Bhuvneshwar Kumar," said Virat in alarm, trying not to back away, because Bhuvi must be counting on him. "We're part of the Indian cricket team."

"In that case," said an old, old man who looked quite capable of beating them to a pulp. "What exactly do you want?"

"We--" said Bhuvi, screwing up all his courage. "We lost our way to the hotel."

"Oh!" There was at once a bunch of sympathetic wedding-goers crowding around them, offering them water and food, asking if they were all right, congratulating them over and over about India's performance so far in the Border-Gavaskar Trophy and clamouring to click selfies.

Virat and Shikhar exchanged a glance.

How had Bhuvi cooked up an excuse so fast when the two of them had been frozen with alarm?

This wasn't quite the Bhuvi they knew.

After that, they had a wonderful time of it. They got to stuff their face with all the Punjabi food they wanted to, and as a thank-you to the families of the wedding, Virat and Shikhar joined the band in dancing and set the stage on fire.

The groom, in fact, looked quite jealous at the sort of looks the bride threw at the trio of celebrities, which was when Shikhar decided it was time to leave. Moreover--

It was well past twelve and they had not brought their phones and--

"Mahi bhai will kill us," he breathed in horror. "Virat, Mahi bhai will kill us--" 

"Damn it, he will," said Virat, realization dawning upon him. "He'll never forgive us for keeping Bhuvi out so long."

"Why?" asked Bhuvi in protest.

Virat winked at Bhuvi as they said their quick goodbyes, insisted that no, they really couldn't drink another single glass of rose lassi, and slunk out into the open.

"Because you're you, Bhuvi," said Virat. "What if someone kidnapped you at this late hour?"

Bhuvi frowned as Shikhar doubled up, laughing. 

Virat threw an arm around each of them and started a loud Punjabi song out of joy. Shikhar joined in, and they sang all the eight kilometres back, choosing wisely to enjoy the last moments of their life before Mahi bhai killed them.

Chapter Text

6th June, 2013

On the morning of the first match of Champions Trophy 2013 against South Africa, Rohit woke up far too late, and far too unpleasantly: at half past ten with a book banged on his head.

"Wake up, you dumbo," Virat shouted. "Shikhar's already about to go down to the field!"

"Wh--" Rohit jerked up and looked at the clock. "There are hours to go before the match!"

"Less than four hours," said Shikhar smoothly, giving his famous mustache a twirl. "I suggested we let you sleep through the match, Rohit. Murali did want to play."

Rohit blinked. "He's not playing?"

"No," said Virat and Shikhar.

"Who's--who on earth is opening, then?" demanded Rohit, because in both the warm-up matches, Dhawan and Vijay had.

"You," said Virat and, "You and I," said Shikhar.

"Me?" said Rohit. "I am opening? When did that happen?"

"Mahi bhai told us over breakfast," said Virat, "which you, obviously, missed."

Rohit stared and stared and stared.

"Told you we should've let him sleep," sniggered Shikhar audibly. "Murali's been padded up from morning. Would've been easier on Ro, too."

Rohit scowled. His head hurt from the bang Virat had given with, no doubt, one of Ash or Bhuvi's books. And he hated being called Ro by anyone except, well, except very few people, and this cool joker of a guy making fun of him was not one of those few people.

"I can't open," Rohit told Virat.

"You have to," said Virat. "Mahi bhai said so."

And that, of course, settled the question.

***

Sophia Gardens Cricket Ground, Cardiff

"Where exactly are you going?" asked Shikhar as a nervous Rohit was dragging his feet to the crease. "You're supposed to go there." He pointed at the opposite crease.

"I--" Rohit stammered. "Well, that's the side of who takes first strike."

"Yes," said Shikhar. "You."

"I can't take first strike, Shikhar," said Rohit, horrified. "You have to take it."

"I never take first strike," said Shikhar firmly. "Move."

Rohit squared his shoulders, tried to ignore the fluttering in his stomach and prepared to fight for his rights.

However, he looked at the crowds, and at the team balcony where Mahi bhai--who'd told him an hour back, "Remember, I trust you, Ro," would be--and comprehended he was about to open the innings in an international tournament, and his voice refused to work.

"Come on," said Shikhar impatiently. "You're opening for the first time, you don't have customs or superstitions."

Rohit gave him a silent glower, to which Shikhar returned a slightly Jaddu-ish beam, and dragged his bat over to take first strike.

***

To Rohit's surprise, opening wasn't as hard as he'd anticipated.

A large part of it was his partner. While Rohit took time to get set and eye in, Shikhar kept hitting a boundary every over, and kept saying between overs, "You hold one side, I'll go for it."

Which Rohit thought was patronizing earlier on, but soon realized was Shikhar's way of reassuring him, because there was something soft in his eyes he recognized.

Rohit could not say he was good in that match. He was jittery and gave plenty of chances. Every time he got beaten or edged a ball and survived, Shikhar winked over at him from his end, like, God, look at them. They're no match for us.

The first three times, Rohit averted his gaze. He'd been the one offering the chances, not Shikhar.

The fourth time it happened, Rohit winked back.

***

When Rohit reached his fifty, he looked over to the balcony to spot Mahi bhai or Virat. Somehow, his gaze was funnily blurred--he was not crying, honestly, he was not--everything just seemed merged together in a brilliant blend of colour--the crowds, the South African team, the blue, blue sky, the green, green ground.

Shikhar enveloped him in a huge hug.

"There you go," he said in a triumphant sort of voice. "Opener."

"Coinci-coincidence--" Rohit mumbled to himself.

"Jesus Christ," said Shikhar. "Are you stupid?"

There was affection in Shikhar's voice, which was strange, because they barely even knew each other. Rohit did not have the faintest idea why this guy was treating him like he was family or something.

He'd never treated anyone so warmly till at least months of acquaintance.

***

When Shikhar reached his fifty, Rohit went over to give him a fist bump and a hug: normal ones.

"It's fun opening with you," mused Shikhar. "More fun that I've ever had opening with someone."

"Because you get to call the shots?" asked Rohit.

Shikhar laughed.

And Rohit could not help but give him another hug, warmer by far than he'd ever given anyone he'd known for such little time.

***

In the months Rohit had known Shikhar so far, he'd perceived him as solely a fun guy with a weird taste in jokes. But over the course of that partnership, he was left with no doubt that his new opening partner was much more than that.

All right, he would admit it was fun opening with Shikhar.

***

When Rohit got out, Shikhar gave him a bracing nod, and called over, "Until next time, Ro."

"Until next time," repeated Rohit, half-confused.

The next match they opened together?

He didn't mind the nickname anymore, so he repeated in a stronger voice, "Until next time, Shikh."

***

127 runs.

A normal partnership. A good one, yes, but a normal one. Maybe very good on English soil against the SA attack.

Normal. It was normal.

Why, then, did this feel like the beginning of something so big?

***

Most precious moment of the duo: In spite of always bullying Rohit into taking first strike, when Rohit was going through a tough patch in South Africa, January-February 2018, Shikhar offered to take first strike to let Rohit settle down.

Why?

Cause that's what friends do.

Chapter Text

23rd June, 2013

6 was needed off the last ball, and a bowler was at the crease.

Behind the stumps, Dhoni played a shadow shot and nodded at Ashwin.

This is what he'll go for.

Ashwin nodded back. He looked confident. He walked to his mark confidently.

Just the smallest hints of nervousness in his movements went unnoticed by most.

"Tredwell..." cried Harsha Bhogle to the country as Ash released the ball.

Tredwell played the same shot the Indian captain had shadowed half a minute back.

"TREDWELL MISSES. DHONI MISSES TOO, BUT IT DOESN'T MATTER. INDIA WIN THE CHAMPIONS TROPHY."

***

That day, Birmingham Cricket Ground, Edgebaston, saw a bunch of men in their twenties utterly and entirely out of their minds.

Even Mahi had rarely seen such chaos, and he'd won a World Cup.

But there was a difference between a veteran team having played for years and an inexperienced one put together haphazardly and hastily a month before an international tournament began.

That night, they were all more than a bit mad.

The group hug, jumping up and down went on for almost ten minutes. Mahi, standing placidly at the side, could hear mostly stupid chants of, "WE WON! WE WON! WE WON!"

The kids didn't seem capable of saying much else.

Then Shikhar got the Golden Bat, Rohit shouting at the top of his lungs, "HE'S MY PARTNER! HE'S MY OPENING PARTNER! WE OPENED TOGETHER! MAHI BHAI, WE OPENED TOGETHER!"

"Um, Ro," said Mahi. "I know."

"MAHI BHAI, WE OPENED TOGETHER AND WE WILL ALWAYS OPEN TOGETHER! HE IS MY FAVOURITE BATTING PARTN--"

"Hello?" said Virat.

Rohit was saved by Jaddu being called for Man of the Match of the final as well as the Golden Ball.

"See, Ash," said Jaddu in a superior voice, alluding to some inside joke Mahi had no idea about, and started to stride to receive his booty, but he didn't go far.

Ash made a wild grab for him and caught his trousers, jerking Jaddu back. Everyone roared, the players and crowd alike, as Jaddu struggled to free himself.

"Ash," said Mahi bhai. "Is this what you want to be remembered for from this night in the future?"

Ash was vaguely aware that he wouldn't always be feeling so high on life, and if he went any further, he would probably end up regretting all his sober life, so he hastily let go.

Afterwards, when they were presented the trophy--Mahi quickly let Shikhar have it; he had no interest having his team ogling at him like a pack of wolves--and thereupon began the fight for the trophy. Shikhar raised it and kissed it, and Jaddu wanted to do the same, claiming the Golden Ball was as important as the Golden Bat, but had Mahi thought Shikhar would let go?

Of course not.

Jaddu had to kiss it with Shikhar still keeping a possessive hold on it. Virat and Rohit and Bhuvi tried to put a finger to it around and above the two stars over the first round of photographs.

Mahi wished there had been only one round of photographs.

But no.

They still had to pose in front of the 'CHAMPIONS' banner and Virat lost it entirely there. He began with dancing, which wasn't so bad ("Go, Virat, go!" shrieked Bhuvi, louder than anyone had ever heard him). Then it turned to push-ups and Mahi thought god only knew what. Hell, probably even god didn't know.

People always clapped for monkeys in a circus, however, so Virat received a wild, wild round of applause.

With the official photos out of the way, they took the victory round, a blue army with white blazers, juggling with the trophy--at one point, Jaddu was kissing it like it was his girlfriend, at one point Ishant had it atop his head--dancing and forcing the ones who weren't dancing (e.g. Rohit) to dance--

They even tried with Mahi.

"Mahi bhai," went Virat and Jaddu in identical tones that sent off alarm bells in Mahi's head. "Come and dance with us."

"What? No!"

"Mahi bhai--"

Mahi was really awful at denying in cold-blood those innocent, plaintive (and deceptive) looks in Virat and Jaddu's eyes. He looked around in desperation and found a huddle of photographers.

"Give me the trophy," he ordered Rohit and Shikhar who were the first pair holding it together without fighting or playing tug of war (they made a really good pair, to be fair). "The photographers need a captain's shot."

"But you hate posing for photographs," protested Rohit.

"Give me the trophy."

Rohit and Shikhar hastily gave it up.

"He did it just to avoid dancing," complained Virat.

"He betrayed us," said Jaddu. "Let's betray him."

"Who?" asked Bhuvi and Ash, who'd just come up.

"Mahi bhai. He told us not to touch those bottles of champagne, but he betrayed our trust, so--"

Six pair of eyes turned to the row of bottles.

Afterwards, they would of course realize it had not been a wise thing to play 'how many bottles can you chug' in the dugout, at the end of which Bhuvi, who'd only managed half a bottle, swayed and nearly passed out, Ash, the victor, who'd drunk three, actually did pass out, and Rohit, Shikhar, Virat and Jaddu were all in various levels of intoxication in between.

"What are we going to tell Mahi bhai when he comes back from the captains' shots?" asked Rohit, falling to his knees, he was laughing so hard.

His laughter set all the others but Ash off, and they all howled their heads off, Jaddu and Bhuvi emptying glass after glass on Ash's head to bring him back to his senses, which again, they'd realize later, had been a bad idea, because obviously Ash caught a killing cold the next day.

Mahi found the six of them tangled together in a many armed, many legged hug, laughing and chanting, "We won, we won, we won--", telltale empty champagne bottles rolling around them.

"Honestly," he muttered, and he might have given them the tongue-lashing they deserved, but for once, he decided to go lenient on them, because after what they'd done, they could have a few hours of bliss. "Get up, you dolts. We have to get back."

"Get up and dance?" asked Virat sleepily.

"Get up and walk to the bus," said Mahi.

"Bo--" Rohit mumbled. "--oring."

"Are you calling me boring, Ro?" asked Mahi.

"Not you!" Even in that state, Rohit couldn't go that far. "Just the concept of--getting up and walking to the bus."

"Goodness," muttered Mahi, figuring he couldn't drag so many unwilling boys to the bus anyway. "Very well, do whatever you want, just this one day. From tomorrow--"

But they didn't wait to hear him, of course. Mahi's words acted as a stimulant that made them forget their intoxicated sleepiness and jump to their feet, still tangled together.

"WE WON! WE WON! WE WON!"

And that night, they danced into oblivion. 

***

Champions Trophy 2013 saw the firsts of a thousand things that were to happen every so often in the years to come.

Rohit and Shikhar putting up a 100+ opening stand, Shikhar being the aggressor, Rohit the anchor. One getting out and the other going on to put another century stand with Virat.

Middle order collapses.

Jaddu giving a dashing finish to an innings. Ash sacrificing his wicket in a run out so Jaddu could stay on.

Bhuvi's outswinger drawing first blood of the opposition in the first over. Ashwin and Jadeja choking the middle overs.

Victory.

Conquering the world.

A decade of domination.

A decade of domination by a team that was soon not to remain a team, but in Virat's words, "A bunch of friends playing together."

And the losses, too.

The heartbreaks.

But together, they could deal with anything.

And they would.

***
Victory Scenes: Gallery

Chapter Text

November, 2013

After the fever-dream ODI series against Australia in October of 2013 that ended on Diwali with Rohit scoring the third double hundred scored in the history of the sport came the home Test series against the West Indies. It would not have been too special if not for Sachin Tendulkar's retirement announced post the series.

When Rohit got his maiden Test call-up before that series, the first thing he felt was hollow.

Yes, he'd prayed for years for this to happen. He'd waited for years. He'd said multiple times in public that he'd be the happiest person on earth if he could play for India in whites.

But somehow, he'd never pictured that series to clash with his idol's retirement.

And hence, he couldn't be the happiest person on earth, after all, even for a day.

***

Virat, of course, had absolutely no idea.

Rohit had smashed a 177 on his Test debut, and the dismissal had also been a very questionable decision. Virat was in a delirious state of excitement and indignation that evening, alternating between, "YOU WOULD HAVE GOT THE DOUBLE HUNDRED IF NOT FOR THAT MEWLING IDIOT!" and "YOU SCORED 177 ON YOUR DEBUT! ON YOUR DEBUT, RO!"

"I know," said Rohit, wincing and tapping his ear to see if they were still fine.

"Still ten runs less than my debut," Shikhar told them, beaming (he had been summoned to the room Rohit and Virat were sharing by the latter's roars).

"But you actually got out," shot back Rohit, getting indignant, too.

"His was against Australia," said Jaddu smoothly.

"Mohali is an easier batting pitch than Eden!" shrieked Virat.

Jaddu punched Shikhar on the shoulder, presumably in support. "But Eden is Rohit's lucky ground anyway, what's the big deal about playing well in one's lucky ground?"

"He's right," Rohit told Virat in a whisper.

"You made Eden your lucky ground," said Virat, glaring. "Why it is not everyone's lucky ground if it is that benevolent a stadium?"

"Because--" Jaddu began promptly.

"Enough!" said Virat. "Enough! Where's the cake?"

"I don't want cake, Virat...the match isn't even over, and it's not such a big deal anyway..."

No one paid heed to Rohit's protests. Shikhar, Jaddu and Virat produced an enormously unhealthy-and-tasty looking frosted cake, three pitchers of orange juice and a bunch of party hats. Rohit buried his head in his arms and sat till a hat was placed on his head and he was forced to raise his face and got a heap of butterscotch whipped cream in his eyes by three violent palms.

"Get off! Get off!"

"No way! We got a bonus birthday of yours!"

"What's going on?" a mild voice interrupted.

Shikhar, Jaddu and Virat paused and looked around. It was Ajinkya Rahane, who had just joined the team for the Test series after the long limited overs series against Australia. Rohit had played with him in the Mumbai domestic team, but he did not know him well enough not to be discomfited--after all, he was covered in cake, he was being overpowered by his wily teammates, and he was sure he was coming across as a loser.

"Celebrating Rohit's debut 100," said Virat. "Come and join, Jinks. Here's an extra hat."

"We have to play tomorrow," said Rahane, still mild, though he did put on the hat. "Why don't you keep this after the match ends?"

"Because," Jaddu said. "He scored the century today."

"Technically I scored it yesterday," said Rohit.

"Oh, but we wouldn't have covered you in cake on a night if you had to bat the next day," said Virat in an angelic tone, and went off on a tangent. "Three cheers for Rohit!"

Shikhar and Jaddu cheered lustily. Rohit sighed.

No one seemed to be in the mood to listen that he wasn't in a mood to celebrate, he just wasn't, and he'd much rather sleep than be cheered for, covered in cake and shower.

***

After the 'party' was forced to an end by Mahi bhai rapping on the door sharply and giving them an earful, Shikhar and Jaddu slunk away to their rooms lightning-fast and Virat shoved Rohit back and skipped into the bathroom first to wash up.

"I am the one who needs to wash up the most!" yelled Rohit after him.

"Too bad, I reached first!" Virat slammed the door in his face.

Rohit turned around, grumbling under his breath, and found himself face to face with Rahane. He'd been so quiet against the chaos that Rohit had almost forgotten he'd been here all the while.

"You seem a little down," said Rahane, most unexpectedly. "Anything the matter?"

"I'm covered in cream," said Rohit plaintively.

"That's a minor setback, though. Why're you so against celebrating a good thing?"

"At least someone sees I'm against celebrating it!" said Rohit. "Did you see those three?"

"Yeah, they are a bit thick-skinned," said Rahane sympathetically. "But you can't quite blame their wish to celebrate."

Rahane settled down on the couch, crossed his legs and looked up at Rohit steadily. Rohit blinked back, and suddenly realized he was looking at someone who did not back off--not in a howling, tantrummy way like Virat, but by just being steadfastly quiet.

"I don't think this series is a cause of celebration, for anyone in the country," he found himself saying. "It's Sachin sir's last series."

Rahane nodded.

"I don't know how they can be so happy at anything right now," said Rohit, though he still wasn't sure why he was confiding in someone he didn't know well. "We've spent our whole lives watching him play...he's the one who gives us hope when nothing seems to be going our way...how can Indian cricket stay alive without Sachin sir?"

"I dunno," admitted Rahane. "Though I wondered the same when Dravid sir retired--but Indian Test cricket is still living, isn't it?"

"That's a sensible point," said Rohit thoughtfully.

"Either way, it doesn't make your achievement any smaller, you know, Rohit."

"Oh, I just got lucky," said Rohit, with a grin. "My debut in my lucky ground and all."

"Wise men say people make their own luck." Rahane grinned back. "So who knows, maybe luck is worth celebrating, too."

Virat emerged out of the bathroom, looking spotlessly clean, that made Rohit wrinkle his nose and want to throw the remaining crumbs on the table on his face.

"Thought I heard your voice, Jinks," said Virat. "The nerve of you, disobeying Mahi bhai!"

"Mahi bhai told you to stop the party," said Rahane, "he didn't tell people to stop talking."

"What's up with this name Jinks anyway?" asked Rohit.

"A-jink-ya," enunciated Virat. "Hear the jink in his name?"

"I do," said Rohit.

"However, Jink would be a terrible nickname," said Virat. "So I made it Jinks."

"Which is not at all a terrible nickname." Rohit gave Jinks a sympathetic nod.

"Exactly! Exactly!" cried Virat. "See, Jinks? Everyone except you thinks it's brilliant."

He was greeted with two deadpans.

"No one except you thinks it's brilliant, Virat," said Jinks.

"Doesn't stop 'em from using it, does it?" said Virat with a rather evil grin. "What are we supposed to call you anyway? Ajinkya?"

"No. Ajju. A perfectly normal nickname."

"It is a lot more normal than Jinks," agreed Rohit.

Virat opened his mouth with that expression of his that meant he'd badger and badger till his companions gave in.

"I'll be going," said Rahane, hastily getting up. "Good night, guys."

"Good night, Jinks."

Except it wasn't one obnoxious voice that called after him after all, but two.

Most precious moment of the duo: Even as the whole team runs on to the field to hug Rishabh after the unforgettable win at Gabba 2021, a teary Jinks collapsing against a swearing Rohit, and they keep hugging and hugging.

Chapter Text

December, 2013

Over the flight to South Africa for the long month-long tour, Ajinkya Rahane was quietly cursing in seating arrangements. Only in his mind though. He did not believe in cursing aloud for people to hear.

"You know what, enough is enough, Rohit," Virat was declaring, from his left (at the window seat). "That was your last chance, and you blew it."

"The hell I blew it," snarled Rohit from his right (at the aisle seat). "Who are you to be going around giving people chances anyway?"

"I am the vice captain." Virat puffed up his chest.

"Wonder who made you," muttered Rohit. "I never saw Mahi bhai ordering people around and giving the reason--I'm the captain."

Which reminded Jinks, where was Mahi bhai?

"Hey, Jaddu," he called over around Rohit's head to Jaddu, who was laughing uproariously at something Bhuvi/Shikhar behind him had said. "Where's Mahi bhai?"

"Sleeping in the frontmost seat," said Jaddu.

"You never ruined a relationship of Mahi bhai's by getting him late for dates every day for two weeks!" said Virat.

"Look, no one can spoil a relationship by going late to dates, all right? Also, what relationship? Are we calling going on two one-night stands a relationship these days?"

"So what if we are? You'd still end up with zero relationships, so don't give me the crap about how going late to dates doesn't spoil one!"

"I will not end up with--"

"What, who have you ever been with? Ritika? Sending her best friend messages every day, for three years? She'll be tying a rakhi on your hand next!"

"Well, can you wake him up?" Jinks whispered around Rohit's head urgently: Rohit and Virat had just exchanged their first head-rappings, and it might be turning into a punching fight soon.

"Actually, he's just pretending to sleep," said Ash. "He does that when Rohit and Virat have fought at the airport before take off."

He also gave Jinks a sympathetic smile that had a hint of glee hidden. Good luck, it seemed to say.

"It doesn't matter whether I wanted to date that girl or not!" shrieked Virat. "You forgot the keys inside and locked me out every day for two weeks!"

"It wasn't intentional!"

"Oh, I know it wasn't! It's just your stunningly-devoid-of-cells brain! Why don't you sell it in the market? You'll fetch a greater price for it than anyone!" 

Virat rapped Rohit's head again. Rohit shoved him back.

Jinks decided he must step into something that was not at all his forte: break up a fight.

"Don't you give me 3 idiots lines, Virat Kohli!"

"Guys," said Jinks, softly. 

"You remember a line from a movie?" Virat drawled. "Ooh, there's our headline news: Rohit Sharma remembers something!"

"Guys," Jinks said louder.

"I remember important things."

"Like your passport? Like your mobile phone?"

"GUYS," shouted Jinks.

Rohit and Virat froze with their hands still raised to push each other.

"Aren't you making rather too big a deal out of this...this issue?" asked Jinks, a trifle timidly.

"Virat always does that," said Rohit. "Making mountains out of molehills."

"Last month he didn't talk to me for four hours because I poured water on his head to wake him up, Jinks," said Virat with dignity. "So don't tell me I make mountains out of molehills."

"I could have caught a cold!"

"My girlfriend dumped me!"

"What girlfriend again? You just went out with her twice--"

"All right, all right," said Jinks quickly. "Let's see. Rohit, did you catch a cold?"

"No," said Rohit, and sounded most sulky that he hadn't caught a cold.

"Virat, what about this girl? Are you serious about her?"

Virat scoffed. "I'm not serious about anyone. But that doesn't give Rohit the right to--"

"Do you actually want to go out with her?" asked Jinks firmly above him.

"Maybe. Maybe not."

"Then both of you, stop yapping at each other, all right?" Jinks shook his head; he was seriously finding it all--the fighting and shoving for the whole ride to the airport, the four hour wait at the airport and now two hours into the flight (nearly seven hours)--a little unbelievable considering the reason behind it. "There's been no harm done, and by fighting, you're ruining the flight for all three of us."

"Any flight with Rohit in your row is ruined anyway," Virat said instantly. "He'll just eat and sleep, and eat and sleep, and repeat."

"Sure I would," said Rohit, "if I could fall asleep with Virat humming those godawful, out-of-tune Punjabi songs in my ear."

"Your taste is asininely--"

"Tell you what, there's something better we can do," interjected Jinks, digging around in his brains which wasn't as devoid of cells as the boys sitting on either side of him. Thankfully, he found a good topic. "It's Shikhar's birthday tomorrow, and Jaddu's the day after, right?"

"Yeah."

"Let's plan something. We'll be reaching the hotel very late, in the evening, so if we're to do anything by midnight, we have to have everything planned beforehand."

"Awesome," said Rohit, and Virat beamed at Jinks, too.

Wow, thought Jinks. I really hadn't expected that to work.

"You hadn't expected what to work?" asked Virat.

"What?" asked Rohit.

"Er, what?" Jinks asked Virat. "How, er, did you know what I'm thinking?"

"You clearly looked like you were thinking you hadn't expected that to work," said Virat.

Jinks backed away a bit. He knew Virat was good with party tricks, but reading someone's mind was not a party trick. It was more like black magic. And Virat wasn't a Bengali.

"No, of course I'm not a Bengali," snorted Virat. "Bengalis are quiet, gentle people."

Jinks gaped.

"Except for Dada," put in Rohit.

"Yeah, except for him," admitted Virat. "I am not quiet or gentle."

"No, you certainly are not," said Rohit, making a face.

Virat caught Jinks' eyes, grinning. But Rohit is so lazy he certainly could be a Bengali, he said.

Or Jinks could swear he'd heard Virat say, before realizing Virat hadn't actually said anything at all.

You're all Delhi, though, Jinks told Virat.

I am proud of it, said Virat.

"What happened?" asked Rohit. "Why did you two suddenly stop speaking?"

Jinks and Virat jumped and turned to look at Rohit, but both had identical bemused smiles on their faces.

"Right, so..." said Virat, louder than necessary. "Did either of you happen to bring along a gift for Shikki or Jaddu?"

"No," Jinks and Rohit said.

"Ah, then we have to improvise something. How about...?"

***

Most precious moment of the trio: Rohit and Virat setting Sri Lanka's Percy uncle on poor, unsuspecting  Jinksy.

***

"Virat Kohli and Rohit Sharma are my closest friends in the Indian cricket team."

~Ajinkya Rahane

Chapter Text

December, 2013

In the same flight, across from Rohit, Virat and Jinks who had their heads together, whispering, Jaddu was sighing deeply.

"You have no sense of humour, Ash."

"It's not funny to tell lies and traumatize your friend so much that he couldn't sleep for three days," said Ash severely,

Shikhar went off into another peal of laughter, clapping Bhuvi on the shoulder.

"But Bhuvi said he forgave me," wheedled Jaddu. "Didn't you, Bhuvi?"

"Yes," said Bhuvi, albeit a little unhappily.

"HAH!" Jaddu roared.

"For heaven's sake!" Rohit called across the aisle. "You'll give someone a heart-attack someday."

"He already gave Bhuvi one," Shikhar said, still choking with laughter as Rohit turned back to his companions to resume his whispering. "I can't believe you fell for Jaddu's story."

"I am a great story teller," said Jaddu in a very off-handed tone.

"He is," Bhuvi had to admit.

"However good he is," snorted Shikhar, "how could he make you believe he's possessed by the spirits of Jamnagar's unrested—?"

"Unrested victims of the zombie apocalypse of the 17th century," obliged Jaddu.

Ash snorted, too.

"He screamed like he was being tortured," protested Bhuvi. "He did sound like an unrested soul."

"How many unrested souls have you heard in your life?" asked Ash.

"One—" Bhuvi paused. "None, as it turns out."

Jaddu chuckled. "Want to hear the full story?"

"No," said Ash.

"Yes," said Shikhar.

"Bhuvi," Ash said distinctly.

"What?" asked Bhuvi, blankly.

Ash gritted his teeth. "Tell them you don't want to hear the story again," he hissed.

Jaddu gave Bhuvi a very sinister look.

"Oh!" said Bhuvi quickly. "Oh, I wouldn't—mind, I mean—it was a good story—"

"If I didn't want to hear the story myself, I'd call Virat and complain that you're bullying Bhuvi, Jaddu," said Shikhar.

"Better avoid it, it'll be a bad beginning to our first South Africa tour together," said Jaddu, sensibly, Ash thought, because Virat did not take kindly to people bullying Bhuvi. Of course, when Virat himself emotionally blackmailed the kid, it didn't count as bullying.

"The story," persisted Shikhar.

"Right, right." Jaddu raised his palms in a grand gesture. "I will not keep my admiring audience waiting any longer. So the story starts on the 6th of the 6th month of the year 1666 where a spaceship of zombies descended upon earth, and happened to land in my hometown Jamnagar."

Ash made a huffy noise. "Obviously it lands in Jamnagar."

"It did," said Jaddu, nodding. "It did indeed. There were 66 zombies in the spaceship, and within 6 days, they had spread through the entire town, hunting for souls to steal."

"Whoa," said Shikhar.

"And not just any soul, mind you," whispered Jaddu. Bhuvi, Shikhar and Ash all leaned in a little automatically. "First, they took the souls with birthdays on on 6th June. Hi, Jinks!" he shouted suddenly, making his audience jump.

"Hi," Jinks called back.

"Be glad you weren't born in 1666 in Jamnagar," hollered Shikhar.

"Er...all right," said Jinks dubiously.

Jaddu was back to whispering. "There were only four such souls. Next, they looked for souls born on the 6th day of any month..."

"So you have to thankful yourself, that you weren't born in 1666," said Shikhar.

Jaddu flashed a creepy smile. "As it turns out, not. By the time they had taken the souls of everyone related to the number 6, there came an almighty storm in Gujarat, that destroyed nearly everything and freed the souls."

Ash gave his loudest snort yet.

Jaddu appeared not to hear him. "The souls were freed, but they could not return to their body, and they could return to be assimilated with the universe, and they have been roaming around ever since, searching for peace. And every year, they catch people who are born in Jamnagar on the 6th day of the 6th month to possess to get a temporary semblance of peace. Till their victim dies, and they have to wait until the 6th day of the 6th month for new souls to possess—"

"And if no one is born a particular year on 6th June, they look for the next closest thing—people born on 6th day of the 12th month—December," blurted out Bhuvi, "which was how they got Jaddu."

Jaddu morphed his face into a funereal expression. Shikhar and Ash stared at Bhuvi.

"Do you, or do you not realize it's a story Jaddu made up to scare you, Bhuvi?" Ash asked in exasperation.

Bhuvi went red. "I—I forget it sometimes. The way he says it." He turned to Jaddu. "But you could have told me you were joking sooner. I couldn't stop worrying about your health."

"I know." Jaddu winked.

"And the prankster, as always, stays unremorseful," declared Shikhar.

Ash turned to Bhuvi, shaking his head. "You should seriously learn to take a stand against Jaddu and Virat."

Bhuvi mumbled something.

"And you," Jaddu told Ash, "need to develop a sense of humour."

"I laugh at funny things," said Ash.

"You didn't laugh when that girl from the crowd last month called you Ashley," pointed out Shikhar.

Bhuvi hid a smile as Ash gave them a deadpan and pretended to be going to sleep. Jaddu and Shikhar laughed and laughed and laughed till the coach yelled at them to stop.

Shikhar's phone rang, and since wifi in flights was a rare luxury only on international ones, he hastened to accept the call and utilize the luxury.

"Hello? Yes, yes, of course I recognize you, chachu, how are you? No, it's tomorrow—" He indicated a bye to the other three, whispering, "my uncle called to wish me, it'll take a while," and walked up the aisle to the empty seats up front.

"Tomorrow is his birthday," said Bhuvi, and added diffidently, "We'll be landing near midnight in South Africa time...can't we do something to surprise him?"

"Bhuvi," Jaddu censured in a wise tone. "You have a lot left to learn. Midnight before birthdays isn't the time to surprise a person. They would already be expecting it!"

"Not if the midnight before birthday comes four hours after we've landed in a new country, no," said Ash. "D'you have anything in mind, Bhuvi?"

"It's nothing great," said Bhuvi, "but I was thinking..."

Chapter Text

4th December, 2013

"The first aspect," Virat declared as they were planning inside the flight, "is that we are not going to do anything at midnight."

"Okay..." said Jinks.

"We'll do it at three. Three."

"Er..."

"Why three?" asked Rohit.

"Because--" improvised Virat. "Three hours after midnight, he'd have lost all hopes and expectations of a midnight celebration altogether!"

Rohit and Jinks exchanged a look.

"All right," said Jinks. "We'll have to wake up Shikhar and the rest of the team at three in the night then. Quite enticing, I must say."

Rohit gave a bland smile.

"You have to stay awake, Rohit!" snarled Virat. "We are not going to waste time waking you up, you lazy ass!"

"Jinks, he's abusing me," said Rohit.

"Oh, really? You want abuses?--"

Jinks interrupted hastily, a newly formed habit that was to stay with him for the rest of his life. "We'll have to get the cake before midnight, anyway. Where'll we cut it? The team room?"

"The team room?" Virat wrinkled his nose his disgust. "Who does such boring, obvious things? The team room?"

 "I don't like it either," agreed Rohit. "Where do you think we can, then?"

"Somewhere completely different," Virat said, thinking hard. "Somewhere no one will ever expect--"

"Like outerspace," suggested Rohit.

"You have to be realistic," chided Virat.

Jinks coughed.

"Shikhar is a grounded guy," mused Virat. "It has to be on the ground."

"What do you mean by the ground?" asked Jinks.

"The ground. Any grounds. A stadium!"

Jinks tried to put forth his (not at all positive) opinion, but Rohit said, "Awesome! How will we enter a stadium at three at night, though?"

"I'm sure we'll find a way," said Virat.

Jinks wished he had the window seat so he could turn his back on Rohit and Virat and stare out of the window as they went about their ridiculous plan.

***

Across the aisle, unknown to them, another trio was planning for the same occasion, and their discussion was also proceeding along similar lines.

"Midnight is out of the question," said Jaddu. "I say we celebrate at three. It's said to the spookiest hour, when all the ghosts of the past come alive."

"Stop it with the ghost stories, Jad," said Ash in a bored voice. "We've had enough for a day."

Jaddu gave Bhuvi a conspiratorial wink, which Bhuvi felt obliged to return.

"You mean we should barge into his room with a cake at three?" asked Bhuvi.

"Room?" Jaddu sounded scandalized. "What do you mean, his room? Shikhar is a guy with a heart of gold, so he should be soaring in the air."

"You mean that figuratively, I hope," said Ash, cautiously.

"I do not," said Jaddu. "It has to be somewhere in the air. How do we get Shikhar into the air?"

"By killing him and converting him into a ghost possibly?" said Ash severely.

"No, that would kill the spirit of the birthday. We're not celebrating a deathday, Ashley."

"I had no idea."

"Bhuvi, d'you have any idea?" asked Jaddu.

Bhuvi looked alarmed to be asked. "N-no."

"And neither do I," said Ash firmly, "so--"

"Let's feed him a hundred cans of Red Bull!" said Jaddu brightly. "Red Bull shall give him wings."

"Drinking a hundred cans of Red Bull will make him spend the whole day in the washroom," said Ash. "But it will not make him fly."

"But--"

"He's right, you know," said Bhuvi.

"All right!" said Jaddu. "But we have to arrange something! And surely we can, too--a jet or something!"

"We will land past nine in the evening, Jaddu," said Bhuvi, so exasperated that he forgot to be timid. "From where can we possibly arrange a jet?"

"I won't celebrate Shikhar's birthday on land," declared Jaddu. "Shikhar never celebrates his birthday on the ground. He floats."

"He floats," repeated Ash.

"Exactly," said Jaddu.

Ash and Bhuvi shook their heads at each other.

"A jet might be impossible to arrange," mused Jaddu. "What about a hot-air balloon?"

***

The flight landed in Johannesburg half an hour late, with the result that they reached their hotel past ten at night, and ate a hasty dinner before they were shown into their respective rooms. Bhuvi, who had been assigned Shikhar's roommate, dared not go up to the room at all, instead choosing to disappear after dinner. He was no good at lying and making up excuses, which he would certainly have had to do if he'd had to leave the room under Shikhar's nose.

Jaddu and Ash met him in the lawns not long after.

"We can get the hot-air balloon from any of these three places." Jaddu showed them three shady sites on his phone. "We have to leave right away if we're to reach them, though--"

There was a rustling of footsteps on grass around the clump of trees.

"Who's there?" asked a frightened Bhuvi, who still hadn't fully recovered from Jaddu's story.

Three coated and mufflered shapes emerged--who turned out to be Virat, Jinks and Rohit.

"It's just you guys," Ash said, a bit relieved himself.

"What are you doing?" Virat asked them suspiciously.

"Making preparations for Shikki's birthday," said Jaddu breezily.

"Oh, really? So are we!" said Rohit.

"Something related to midnight birthday cakes, is it?" asked Ash with a sinister smile. "Wait till you hear our plan."

"Not at all," said Jinks in a dignified tone. "Our plan's not as boring as midnight birthday cakeS."

"We'll break into the stadium and light fire-torches in the stadium!" said Virat.

"We're sending Shikhar up on a hot-air balloon!" Jaddu said at the exact same time.

"What?" demanded everyone.

"A hot-air balloon, did you say?" Virat asked, pretending to himself he didn't wish he had come up with that plan. "You can't do that! Shikhar is a grounded guy, he has to be on the ground."

"He has a heart of gold," countered Jaddu promptly. "He must soar in the air."

"That's impossible anyway," said Jinks, in a logical sort of voice. "Where will you get a hot-air balloon from at eleven at night?"

"What if I do?" asked Jaddu. "Shikhar can get into it if I get it, right?"

"Yeah, if you--" began Jinks.

"Don't bet against Jaddu, Jinks!" cried Virat. "If he says he'll get it, he will, so we can't allow him to go at all."

Jaddu sprinted. "Stop me if you can!"

Virat and Rohit shrieked and sprinted after him. Jaddu was by far the fastest runner amongst the three, however, so he'd nearly reached the gates when a thin form went flying past Rohit and Virat and tackled him to the ground.

"No, you don't," Jinks said, gasping for breath.

"Jinks!"

Rohit and Virat were lost in admiration as they approached their teammate pinning down their enemy leader. Ash and Bhuvi were pretty admiring, too, with the result that Jaddu found himself fast falling out of favour.

"The hot-air balloon is such a different idea," he groaned, as he and Jinks were hauled up by the other four. "If you want to break into a stadium, Virat--which by the way I'm in full support of--the hot-air balloon would need a large clear space, anyway, so we could fix the ropes on the grounds."

Virat and Rohit couldn't help acknowledging the charm of the innovative idea.

"All right, how about this?" Rohit said, excited. "We send Shikhar into the air, and we fix fire-torches on the grass saying 'Happy birthday'.

"How many torches do you think that'll need?" Virat shoved him.

"Go with HBD," said Ash quickly. "That should be enough."

"And the time!" Virat shouted.

"Shh!" Jinks said. "Do you want Shikhar or Mahi bhai to find us?"

Virat covered his mouth in horror, and when he spoke, did so in a much softer whisper.

"Shikhar himself will be in air, so you decided that part of the plan. Hence, we'll decide the time."

"Absolutely n--"

Ash overrode Jaddu. "All right. When?"

"Three," said Virat.

Jaddu cackled at the top of his voice. "We decided three too!"

Virat scowled. Bhuvi clamped a hand over Jaddu's mouth to muffle his cackling that still hadn't stopped.

"I agree it has to be after midnight," said Rohit meekly. "But why three? Why not six? That way all of Shikhar's hopes will die for this year and next year."

"Don't think we don't know the real reason behind this, Ro." Virat looked at him menacingly. "Don't you dare bring your sleep in between our patriotic planning."

"Patriotic?" asked Jinks.

"Patriotic?" asked Ash.

"Aren't we ready to even die for our homeland, for our friend? Aren't we?" When nobody said anything, Virat added, "AREN'T WE, JADDU?"

"Yes," said Jaddu smoothly. "And when we die, we'll become even better friends with Phenol."

"Who's Phenol?" asked Bhuvi.

"My pet ghost," said Jaddu.

Bhuvi took a step back. "You're joking again, aren't you?" he asked with a hint of apprehension.

"Nope," said Jaddu casually. "Come with me to Jamnagar next time, I'll introduce you to him."

"Don't try to scare Bhuvi with your nonsense, Jaddu," said Virat fiercely. "It's nearly midnight, and we still haven't arranged anything!"

"We have arranged the plan," Ash pointed out.

"Which is no ordinary plan, either," said Jaddu solemnly.

"Whatever," said Virat. "Everyone--go get their list of things!"

As they dispersed, he whispered to Rohit, "How do you think Jaddu's plan was so similar to mine, Ro?"

Rohit, who could see his night's sleep slipping out of his grasp and felt very helpless about it, gave another bland smile. "You two are the same person in terms of sanity, Virat, just in different bodies."

"You can't say that!" hissed Virat indignantly. "I always have better plans than him...always--don't I?"

"Certainly, my bad," said Rohit sympathetically. "You two are as different as the sky and the ground."

Virat thought for a while and then patted Rohit on the shoulder grinned, satisfied, and they went on their way to procure fire-torches and bribe guards of the nearest local stadium.

Chapter Text

5th December, 2013

Everything was procured and prepared—they hadn't managed fire-torches, and had settled with candles—before the due time (by 2:57 a.m., to be precise), and while Jaddu, Virat and Ash prepared to sneak into a local stadium near their hotel, Rohit, Jinks and Bhuvi went to wake up the birthday boy—which needed a lot of efforts, since he elbowed Rohit not-at-all-gently and cried, "You forgot my birthday, don't come to me in the middle of the night!"

"Your birthday just started," Bhuvi said.

"Yeah," said Jinks. "It's a 24-hour day, and it's been just three hours—"

"The importance of the hours decrease linearly," said Shikhar grumpily. "The first three hours were the most important."

"Exactly our logic," said Rohit, and whispered to his partners, "Kill all hope first, remember?"

"What are you whispering?" demanded Shikhar. "Where were you guys, anyway?"

"You have to get up and come with us to know that."

Of course, curiosity won out against Shikhar's justified indignation, and by half past three, they reached the stadium. Bhuvi called Jaddu and asked, "How do we sneak in?"

"No need," said Jaddu grandly. "Just walk in. You'll find the night guard very agreeable."

"Why? How?"

"Turns out he and his family are fans of King Kohli. I promised him as many autographs of Virat as he wants for his family."

"Does Virat know about this?" asked Jinks suspiciously into the phone.

"Nope." Jaddu sounded supremely unperturbed. "I bet on Virat's, er, self-esteem that he won't object."

"Yeah, you're safe," said Rohit, and they walked in.

***

"What is that?" Shikhar ogled at the enormous fluorescent green balloon floating above their heads, attached with long ropes to three ground stations arranged in a triangle. Jaddu was pulling on one with great force, and the balloon was presently descending rapidly.

"A surprize for you," said Ash. "According to Jaddu, we can't celebrate your birthday on the ground—though Virat points out you're a grounded guy, too—but according to Jaddu, you have a heart of gold, and you must always float on your birthday."

"He's right." Shikhar beamed. "Can we actually get on that thing?"

"Sure," said Jaddu.

"Not we," Bhuvi said in dulcet tones. "They said it can only hold one person—so just you, Shikh."

"Awesome." Shikhar jumped over to the balloon, whose basket Jaddu had got to land, and then he jumped straight into it.

Ash and Jinks exchanged a glance. Neither of them had thought Shikhar would be so obliging to undertake a risk as this, but they figured he was more similar to Virat and Jaddu, so...

Ash, who felt in his (reliable) bones that this adventure was not going to end well, had also brought along a cake—two cakes, in fact—though he hid the boxes under one of the benches, hoping there were no rats around. The flavours, on which he had spared quite a lot of thought, were red velvet (because it was the most celebratory sort of cake) and chocolate truffle (because if something went wrong, his friends would need the chocolate).

"We need to man all three stations," Jaddu said commandingly. "Rohit, Virat, go over to that one. Bhuvi and Jinks, you take that one. Ash and I will stay here."

Shikhar roared with laughter as that was being done.

"I'll light the candles when he's in the air," said Virat.

"No, you won't!" said Rohit. "I got them!"

"And I arranged them," said Jaddu.

"Really?" asked Ash, who had spent a painstaking half hour planting candles into the soil into a pattern that he sincerely hoped spelt 'HBD.'

"Bhuvi can light the candles," said Jinks smartly, knowing no one would raise a voice against that.

"N-no—that's all right—" Bhuvi sounded so terrified that a disgruntled Jinks was forced to concede.

"You can each light one letter," Ash told Rohit, Virat and Jaddu with an upturned nose that suggested he was above such petty competitions. "Ready, Shikhar?"

"You bet!" said Shikhar.

"We are in South Africa," said Rohit. "Not Australia."

"PULL!" Jaddu shouted. "PULL, PULL, PULL!"

No one except Ash knew what and in which direction to pull. Nevertheless, they all seized a rope each and pulled.

The balloon rose and veered dangerously towards Ash and Jaddu's station, both of who yelled themselves hoarse.

"YOU'RE NOT PULLING IT RIGHT—JINKS—BHUVI, THE OTHER WAY!" hollered Ash.

"NOT LIKE THAT!" Jaddu waved his arm wildly to show the motion of the pull. "YES, THERE YOU GO."

Shikhar could be heard shrieking above them, too, but he was so far above now that they couldn't hear what he was shrieking. Jinks chose to focus on the fact that he hadn't crashed yet.

"THE CANDLES," shouted Ash.

Rohit and Virat both dropped their ropes and sprinted towards the candles. The balloon nearly went horizontal as it soared in the opposite direction.

"ONE OF YOU HOLD THE STATION!"

Fortunately for Shikhar, Bhuvi reacted quickly and ran to take Rohit and Virat's ropes. When half the candles were lit, a breeze rose and doused them. Virat swore so loudly, it must have reached Shikhar, because he yelled something more.

"HE'S TOO FAR UP!" Jaddu yelled. "HE WON'T BE ABLE TO SEE THE CANDLES. BRING HIM DOWN, ASH, BHUVI, JINKS!"

They tried, wildly. After several unsuccessful tries and near crashes, the balloon bore down upon them.

"YES!" cheered Rohit, who'd just finished with lighting his 'B.'

"GET ME DOWN," Shikhar was shrieking.

"No!" said Jaddu. "It's too low!"

"GET ME DOWN, JADDU!"

"ASH, TAKE IT UP—IT'S TOO LOW!"

"HE WANTS TO GET DOWN!"

"SO WHAT?"

"WHAT IF HE FALLS?" cried Jinks.

"GET ME OFF THIS THING! BHUVI, DO SOMETHING!"

By that point, Bhuvi, who was scared out of his wits, was muttering, "I can't believe I agreed to this. I can't believe I agreed to this."

"I can't believe I'm friends with you all," said Ash.

"You procured the hot air balloon," pointed out Rohit.

"When you retell this story in the future, give that discredit to Jaddu," said Ash. "Neither he nor I shall mind the alteration."

"JADDU! BHUVI! ROHIT!" Shikhar was yelling.

"I'LL COME UP!" yelled back Jaddu. "I'LL GUIDE YOU HOW HIGH TO SEND IT, ASH!"

"The capacity is one person—" Jinks tried to say vaguely.

"DO WHATEVER THE HELL YOU WANT," was Ash's rude reply.

Jaddu sprinted to the balloon—the basket was still at least two metres above ground—executed an extraordinary jump and managed to grab the rim of the basket.

"JADDU, NO!" Bhuvi screamed, forgetting his station and running to the balloon, as if hoping to catch Jaddu if he fell.

The balloon swerved out-of-control, Jaddu swinging with it, laughing like a maniac as Bhuvi lost his head and screamed his lungs out, Rohit and Virat both ran to take back their station and Shikhar tried to pull Jaddu in.

Once Rohit and Virat had stabilized the contraption, Shikhar succeeded, and called down, "No harm done."

Bhuvi, almost in tears, screeched, "Bring that thing down, Ash, Jinks!"

"TAKE IT UP!" Jaddu overrode him. "A LITTLE MORE, ASH, A LITTLE MORE—LOOK DOWN, SHIKHAR!"

"I already was," said Shikhar. "What do you think I've been doing all this time, worrying about my life and not looking down? What the devil were you doing with candles?"

"LOOK DOWN NOW."

Shikhar did, and since the balloon was finally at the proper height—neither so high that he couldn't make out the words, nor so low that all he could see was the spiralling ground—he understood what they'd been doing with the candles.

He flung himself on Jaddu's neck, crying, "You guys are the best!"

"WHAT IS HE SAYING?" Rohit was roaring. "DID HE SEE?"

"HE SAYS WE ARE THE BEST," Jaddu roared back.

"TELL HIM THANK YOU."

"I CAN HEAR YOU," shouted Shikhar. "AND WELCOME."

"CAN WE PLEASE GET THEM DOWN NOW?" Bhuvi shouted above them all.

***

"I'll get on now," said Virat, the moment the balloon touched the ground.

"No, I'll get on first," said Rohit at once.

Virat shoved him. "Get off, Shikki, Jad."

Jaddu cackled so loudly the air seemed to tremble.

"I suppose he means he will not get off," Jinks told Rohit and Virat.

"Yes," said Shikhar, "and neither will I."

"But you were screaming at us to let you down," said Rohit, indignantly.

"Did you let me down, however?" asked Shikhar.

"Er...no."

"Yeah, so I don't listen to you either."

"Fair point," said Ash, solemnly.

"Don't make us pull you off," Virat threatened.

Jaddu cackled harder.

"By that I suppose he is confident that you won't be able to pull him off," said Jinks.

Everyone knew that to be the truth, but Virat war-cried and ran at the balloon anyway.

"Screw it, Vi, if it's going to be more than one person, it might as well be four." Rohit pulled Virat's arm down before he could grab anything. "Let's just get on."

"It's made for one person," said Bhuvi in vain. "It might have held two, but how can it hold four?"

Jinks and Ash exchanged another of their looks. Rohit and Virat, with much pacifying and apologizing to Bhuvi ("sorry, Bhuvi, but don't worry, nothing's going to happen—sorry—but can you man one station?—sorry again"), climbed into the basket and squeezed in with Jaddu and Shikhar.

The three (relatively) saner people who were left on the ground did not see any choice but to pull the ropes. By now, they'd all got the hang of it, and the balloon soared into the air rapidly.

"WE'RE FLYING!" Virat cried. "ROHIT, WE'RE FLYING!"

"We flew from India to South Africa yesterday," said Rohit.

Virat reached around Jaddu to give Rohit a punch. Rohit dodged, and so the punch got Shikhar instead. Shikhar punched back anyone he could get.

The balloon wobbled.

"YOU IDIOTS, STOP IT," roared Ash.

Jaddu joined in the fray.

The balloon tilted.

Virat had finally managed to poke Rohit and yelled in triumph.

The balloon crashed.

***

Luckily, there were only bruises (though a lot of them) and no broken bones.

Also luckily, the first thing that was heard under the mountain of balloon-rubber was Rohit's anxious voice asking, "Are you all right, Virat?" thus dissolving their fight immediately.

Ash and Jinks kept the 'I told you so' unuttered but very obvious with their looks. Bhuvi was too concerned to remember that he'd also been in the 'I told you so' gang, and fussed around the four crashed boys till he was sure there was no lasting damage. Both Virat and Jaddu were inclined to overplay their injuries, but a glare from Jinks put them straight.

Afterwards, they sat eating Ash's useful cakes (everyone approved of the flavours heartily) with dusty (and for some, bruised) hands, smearing some of the cream on each other, but not much, since the night's antics had made them pretty hungry.

And a tiny local stadium of Johannesburg was witness to the consecrationof a bunch of seven who were to stay on together all their lives.

Chapter Text

When things are right

Then you just know

forever

/fəˈrɛvə/adverbfor all future time; for always."they would love each other forever"

***

So that was how 'us' was formed.

Ten years have gone by, and they don't meet every day anymore, don't travel to all tournaments together anymore. They have their own families, including ten kids between them. The ones still in the team...they are now the seniors, and pretty celebrated ones, too.

On the surface, so much has changed.

Deep down, though, they wonder if anything really has changed.

Because last year, when four of them lost a World Cup final, the other three's calls were the first ones received; most others, ignored. When three of them did finally win a World Cup, for the other four, it was the next best thing to winning one themselves. When one of them was deprived of watching his son grow by a witch he'd had the misfortune of marrying, the others nearly lost their sanity, since their hands were tied and they couldn't do anything. When one's wife got complications while delivering their son, two others kept defending his right to privacy to the press. Whenever any of them were doubted or questioned, the others considered their duty to stand up.

They were there for each other every time Shikhar missed Zoravar.

They were there for each other when Ash's mother fell ill in the middle of a series and he had to rush home.

They were there for each other when Virat got so bogged down by administrative run-ins with the board that he felt like giving up the sport.

They were there for each other when Rohit couldn't get up for weeks after losing the final.

They were there for each other, celebrating together when Jinks got a dream comeback for the WTC final.

They were there for each other to keep Bhuvi's spirits up each time an injury forced him out of a tournament.

They were there for each other supporting Jaddu through problems with his father.

They were always there for each other, through the ups and the downs, the laughter and the tears.

Then, maybe in all the ways that matter, nothing has changed between 'us', and nothing ever will.