Date: January 2, 2014
Location: The Deva Farmhouse, Shamshabad, Hyderabad
The long tour of South Africa was finally in the rearview mirror.
The Indian team had boarded their flight in Johannesburg on the first of January, leaving behind the bouncy pitches and the intense atmosphere of the month-long Test and ODI series. They landed in Mumbai on the second of January, scattering to their respective home cities shortly after.
Recognizing the physical toll the tour had taken on the squad, the team management had granted the players a strict, uninterrupted five-day leave. They were not required to report to the upcoming national training camp until January 8th. No cricket, no gym sessions, no press conferences. Just rest.
Siddanth Deva arrived at the Shamshabad farmhouse late in the evening. He dropped his duffel bags in the hallway, greeted his parents with a warm hug, ate a simple dinner of dal and rice, and went straight to sleep.
Despite crossing multiple time zones and spending over fourteen hours in transit, Siddanth woke up the next morning feeling refreshed. He stepped out of his bedroom, dressed in a simple white cotton kurta and blue jeans, the cool January morning air of Hyderabad filtering through the open windows of the villa.
"Siddu! Are you ready?" his mother, Sesikala, called out from the bottom of the stairs.
"Coming, Amma," Siddanth replied, walking down the steps.
Vikram Deva was standing near the front door, wearing a crisp white shirt and formal trousers, holding the car keys.
"You are driving."
"I wouldn't have it any other way," Siddanth smiled, taking the keys.
They walked out to the garage and got into the Audi. Siddanth navigated the car out of the iron gates of the estate and onto the quiet roads of Shamshabad.
The local temple they visited was incredibly peaceful. It was a modest stone structure surrounded by large banyan trees.
At 7:00 AM, there was barely any crowd. A few local families and elderly residents were walking around the temple courtyard, going about their morning prayers.
Siddanth walked freely toda. The people offered polite nods, but nobody rushed forward to ask for autographs. It was a welcome level of privacy.
They walked barefoot into the main sanctum. The scent of fresh jasmine flowers, burning camphor, and sandalwood incense hung in the cool morning air. The head priest, an old family acquaintance, smiled warmly as they approached.
"Welcome, Vikram garu. Siddanth, it is good to see you home," the priest greeted, preparing the aarti plate.
Sesikala handed over a basket of fresh fruits, coconuts, and flowers she had brought from the farmhouse gardens. The priest chanted mantras, offering the prayers specifically in the names of the Deva family, asking for health, prosperity, and peace for the upcoming year.
After the aarti was performed, they received the holy water and the prasad. They stepped out into the stone courtyard, sitting quietly on the cool steps for twenty minutes, simply absorbing the serene atmosphere.
"It is going to be a busy year for you, Siddu," Sesikala noted softly, breaking the silence as she looked at her son. "T20 World Cup, overseas tours... make sure you take care of your health."
"I will, Amma," Siddanth promised, offering a reassuring smile. "The year has started well."
They drove back to the farmhouse in a comfortable silence. The five-day break had officially begun on a peaceful note.
---
The following morning, Siddanth traded his traditional kurta for a tailored black button-down shirt and dark grey trousers. He drove his car toward Hi-Tec City, navigating the morning traffic with ease.
He pulled into the reserved underground parking of the towering NEXUS headquarters and took the private elevator directly to the top-floor executive suite.
When the doors opened, Arjun was already waiting in Siddanth's office. The CEO of NEXUS was sitting on the leather sofa, reviewing a stack of physical design mockups and hardware schematics. Arjun looked sharp and completely in his element. He had grown comfortably into his role, handling the logistics of the company with steady confidence.
"Morning, Sid," Arjun greeted cheerfully, tossing a file onto the coffee table. "Welcome back. I hope you brought me some biltong from South Africa."
"Morning, Arjun. I ate it all on the flight," Siddanth smirked, walking over to his desk and setting his bag down. "How are the numbers?"
"The Bolt 1 sales are holding steady," Arjun reported, leaning back on the sofa. "We dominate the mid-tier market. The media knows we have been expanding our R&D departments. It's time to finalize our next flagship."
Siddanth walked over and sat in the armchair opposite Arjun. He reached into his pocket and placed a sleek USB flash drive onto the glass coffee table.
"We are not calling it the Bolt Pro," Siddanth stated. "The Bolt line is our affordable, mass-market identity. The new device needs to stand entirely on its own. It needs a name that commands premium authority."
Arjun nodded, understanding the branding distinction. "What are you thinking?"
"The NEXUS Apex," Siddanth said.
Arjun tested the name, repeating it quietly. He smiled, a business-savvy glint in his eye. "Apex. The peak. It works. It sounds expensive."
"It is going to be expensive," Siddanth confirmed. "We are putting the best hardware on the market into this phone. Aerospace-grade titanium chassis, edge-to-edge OLED display, and a camera sensor that rivals professional DSLRs. I want it priced in the exact same bracket as the highest-end Apple and Samsung models."
"If we price it at the top of the market, the software has to match it," Arjun noted, pointing to the USB drive on the table. "They won't forgive a single bug if they are paying flagship prices."
"That drive contains the completed master build of Jnana OS," Siddanth said. "I finished compiling, It is completely independent of Android, but the native runtime bridge is fully functional. It will run every single app on the market on day one."
Arjun picked up the flash drive. "I'll hand this over to the senior engineering leads today. I'll have them flash it onto the prototype hardware and run stress tests. If there are any bugs or UI stutters, I'll have them compile a detailed report and send it directly to your email."
"Good," Siddanth nodded. He reached into his pocket again and placed a second encrypted USB drive onto the table.
Arjun looked at the second drive, raising an eyebrow. "What is this?"
"That," Siddanth said, tapping the drive, "is our entry into the global enterprise market. It is a completely proprietary, incredibly aggressive Antivirus and cybersecurity software suite. We are going to sell it to corporate clients, banks, and eventually, regular consumers. I'm calling it Project Vajra."
"Vajra," Arjun repeated, a grin spreading across his face. "Lord Indra's weapon. The indestructible thunderbolt. I like the mythological angle. It fits the brand perfectly."
"I need you to handle the optics on this, Arjun," Siddanth instructed. "I built this software myself, but the world cannot know that. It needs corporate legitimacy."
Arjun understood. "You want to fabricate an R&D trail."
"Exactly," Siddanth agreed. "Make it look like a dedicated, well-funded team of NEXUS engineers has been working on Vajra in secrecy. I have already sent a curated list of potential employees to your email. Hire them immediately, set them up in a secure wing, and officially credit them as the development team for this software."
Arjun nodded, already formulating the internal restructuring plan in his head. He looked at the flash drive in his hand. "How good is it, Sid? Symantec and McAfee have been in this game for decades. If we are asking banks to trust Vajra with their financial data, it has to be secure."
Siddanth leaned back in his chair.
"No one in the world can break into it, Arjun," Siddanth said. "It utilizes a polymorphic encryption standard that actively rewrites its own defense protocols the moment it detects a brute-force attack or a port scan. It is highly secure."
Arjun smiled, a marketing strategy forming in his mind.
"If you are that confident, Sid, we shouldn't just release it quietly," Arjun proposed. "We should throw down a gauntlet. A global hackathon. We put Vajra on a public server, and we openly invite hackers and cybersecurity firms to try and crack it. If anyone successfully breaches the software, we pay them a massive cash bounty. We can add Jnana OS into the mix as well."
"A public challenge," Siddanth mused, appreciating the strategy. "It proves our security standards instantly."
"Exactly," Arjun said. "I can announce it next week."
"No," Siddanth interjected, holding up a hand. "We don't launch the hackathon right now. We wait."
Arjun frowned slightly. "Wait for what?"
"We wait for the new government to be officially formed," Siddanth explained, considering the broader political landscape of the impending state split. "Once Telangana is officially a state, I want you to speak directly with KTR. We pitch the hackathon to the new government as a joint initiative."
Arjun nodded as he grasped the logistics of the play.
"We don't just host it online," Siddanth continued. "We make it a massive, physical event right here in Hi-Tec City. If these international hackers want the prize money, they can't do it from their basements in Russia or China. They have to fly here and hack it locally on a physical closed-network server. It brings global tech tourism to the city, puts Hyderabad on the map as a global cybersecurity hub, and gives the new state government a PR victory right out of the gate. We align our product launch with their political victory."
Arjun laughed, shaking his head in admiration. "You are turning a software test into a geopolitical networking event. It's a solid plan, Sid. I'll hold the announcement and start drafting the proposal for KTR's office."
"Handle it," Siddanth said, checking his watch. "I am officially clocking out. I have plans tomorrow."
---
The afternoon sun was blazing over Hyderabad, but the shade of the large banyan tree near the Tarnaka crossroads offered some relief.
Siddanth stood on the pavement, wearing a plain black hoodie, a dark surgical mask resting on his chin, and a black baseball cap pulled low. He was waiting for Krithika for their movie date.
Instead, he heard the distinct, high-pitched put-put-put of a lightweight scooter engine.
Krithika pulled up to the curb on her bright purple TVS Scooty Pep+. She was wearing a comfortable oversized flannel shirt and jeans, a colorful cotton scarf wrapped loosely around her neck.
"Get on," Krithika grinned, patting the tiny pillion seat behind her.
Siddanth stared at the little purple scooter, and then looked at her. "Tell me you are joking. I am six-foot-two. If I sit on that, the suspension is going to snap, and my knees will literally drag on the road."
"We are going to Prasad's IMAX on a weekend evening, Siddu," Krithika reasoned, completely ignoring his concern. "Taking a car means spending an hour stuck in traffic at Khairatabad and another hour fighting for parking. The Scooty slips right through. Now put this on."
She grabbed a spare, slightly scratched black helmet from the hook and tossed it to him.
Siddanth sighed, accepting his fate. "Fine. But I am driving. It's a matter of pride."
"Suit yourself," she laughed, scooting back to let him take the front.
Siddanth reluctantly swung his long legs over the tiny purple scooter. His knees practically bumped against the handlebars. He pulled the visor down, acutely aware of the massive, unmarked black SUV parked fifty meters away, where Rahul, was undoubtedly watching the scene and laughing his head off.
"If Dale Steyn ever sees a photo of me riding this, my fast-bowling career is officially over," Siddanth muttered, twisting the throttle. The little scooter whined in loud protest under his muscular weight before slowly puttering down the road.
The drive to Necklace Road was a classic, chaotic Hyderabadi experience. Siddanth expertly weaved the tiny scooter through the dense traffic, while Krithika sat comfortably behind him, chatting loudly over the wind and occasionally directing him to take shortcuts through narrow gullies.
They managed to find parking easily at Prasad's IMAX and walked into the bustling, air-conditioned lobby. The scent of buttery popcorn and strong coffee washed over them.
Siddanth had booked two premium tickets for a newly released, high-octane Telugu commercial mass movie. It was the kind of film that required absolutely zero logic and promised pure, unadulterated entertainment.
"Go find our seats. I'll get the snacks," Siddanth murmured quietly, keeping his head down to avoid the crowds.
"No, I am paying today," Krithika insisted stubbornly, marching up to the concession stand. "You paid for lunch last time. My treat."
Siddanth leaned against a pillar nearby, crossing his arms and watching her.
Krithika stepped up to the counter. "One large caramel popcorn and two medium Cokes, please."
"That will be five hundred and twenty rupees, ma'am," the polite teenager behind the counter smiled, punching the order into the register.
Krithika froze. She looked at the medium-sized paper tub of popcorn, and then looked back at the cashier. The classic, middle-class Hyderabadi outrage instantly took over her features.
"Five hundred and twenty?!" Krithika said, her voice rising in sheer disbelief. "Bhaiyya, did you fry this corn in pure gold? Or did you import the seeds from Mars? Outside on Necklace Road, a guy sells a whole roasted corn with lemon and chili for twenty rupees! This is daylight robbery!"
The teenager blinked, looking completely overwhelmed. "Ma'am, it's the standard theater price..."
"It's a scam, is what it is!" Krithika argued passionately, completely ready to negotiate the price of a corporate multiplex concession stand. "Give me the regular salted one. Actually, no, just the Cokes. We'll eat outside."
Before she could start a full-blown protest and draw a crowd, a large hand smoothly entered her field of vision, placing a five-hundred and a fifty rupee note on the counter.
"We will take the caramel, thank you," Siddanth said quickly, pulling his mask up slightly and gently grabbing Krithika by the shoulder to steer her away from the bewildered cashier.
"Siddu, they are actively scamming us!" she whispered fiercely as he handed her the heavy tub of popcorn and took the drinks.
"It's movie theater popcorn, Krithi. You're supposed to get scammed," Siddanth chuckled, highly amused by her relentless outrage over the snack prices. "Come on, the movie is starting."
They settled into their seats in the back row of the dark, packed theater.
For the next two and a half hours, they were completely engrossed in the absolute absurdity of the Telugu film. During a climax scene where the hero casually slapped a goon so hard that the man flew fifty feet through the air and crashed through a brick wall.
When the movie ended, they walked out of the theater and decided not to go home immediately. They strolled down the wide pavement of Necklace Road, the cool evening breeze blowing off the dark, rippling waters of Hussain Sagar Lake. The giant Buddha statue glowed softly in the distance under the moonlight.
They stopped at a small street-side cart. Siddanth bought two paper cones filled with spicy, tangy muri mixture (puffed rice snack).
They stood near the metal railing, eating the spicy mixture and watching the city lights reflect on the water. It was a perfectly normal, effortlessly comfortable date, entirely devoid of the usual VIP glamour or cricketing pressure.
---
If day three was about venturing out, day four was about absolute, unadulterated laziness.
Siddanth spent the entirety of the day sprawled across the large, comfortable L-shaped sofa in the farmhouse living room. He was wearing loose grey sweatpants and a faded white t-shirt. His phone was set to 'Do Not Disturb', his laptop was closed, and his cricket kits were securely zipped up in the hallway.
Today, his only agenda was catching up on the media he had missed while dismantling the South African batting lineup.
The massive flat-screen television in the living room was currently playing the latest episodes of Naruto Shippuden. The Fourth Great Ninja War arc was in full swing, and Siddanth was completely invested in the beautifully animated, high-stakes battles flashing across the screen.
On the coffee table in front of him rested a sleek iPad, open to the latest digitally released chapters of the One Piece manga. He had been meticulously reading through the complex, chaotic political developments of the Dressrosa arc during the commercial breaks of the anime.
Vikram Deva walked into the living room, holding a cup of hot tea and a newspaper. He stopped, looking at his twenty-two-year-old son, who was currently staring intensely at the television screen where brightly colored, animated ninjas were throwing fireballs at each other.
Vikram let out a deep, amused chuckle, shaking his head. He walked over and sat down in his armchair.
"Siddu," Vikram asked, a teasing glint in his eye. "You run a massive technology company. You are the Vice-Captain of the Indian cricket team. And you spend your free time watching Japanese cartoons?"
Siddanth didn't take his eyes off the screen. He casually reached into a bowl of chips resting on his chest, tossing one into his mouth.
"It's not a cartoon, Nanna. It's anime," Siddanth corrected smoothly, completely unashamed of his hobbies. "And it's actually incredibly complex. This specific arc is a masterful exploration of the cycle of hatred, the moral ambiguity of war, and the heavy psychological burden of leadership in a militaristic society."
Vikram raised an eyebrow, genuinely surprised by the depth of the defense. He looked back at the screen, where a spiky-haired blonde character was currently screaming at the top of his lungs while glowing bright yellow.
"Right," Vikram noted dryly, taking a sip of his tea. "The cycle of hatred. I'm sure that glowing yellow boy is a very profound philosopher. So, it's basically like Agneepath? A classic revenge story, but with spiky hair and magic?"
Siddanth laughed, finally looking over at his father. "Exactly like Agneepath, Nanna."
Sesikala walked into the living room, wiping her hands on a towel. She looked at Siddanth lounging on the sofa and smiled fondly.
"Leave him alone, Vikram," Sesikala scolded her husband lightly. "If he wants to watch his colorful shows for one day, let him watch. At least he is resting his legs."
"I am not complaining, Sesi," Vikram chuckled, opening his newspaper. "I am just glad to see he still acts like a normal twenty-two-year-old boy sometimes."
Siddanth smiled, turning his attention back to the next chapter of his manga. The house was quiet, the air conditioning was cool, and for twenty-four hours, the world outside the farmhouse simply did not exist.
---
The final day of the leave arrived with the bright, warm morning sun.
By 1:00 PM, the dining room of the Shamshabad farmhouse was filled with the loud, chaotic, incredibly familiar sounds of Siddanth's inner circle.
Arjun, Sameer, and Feroz had driven down to the estate for a final farewell lunch before Siddanth departed for the training camp the next morning. The large wooden dining table groaned under the weight of the massive feast Sesikala had prepared. There were large bowls of fragrant Hyderabadi chicken biryani, rich mutton rogan josh, crispy fried fish, and fresh, hot rotis.
"Aunty, I swear, if you opened a restaurant in Jubilee Hills, you would put every five-star hotel out of business," Sameer declared loudly, aggressively piling a third serving of biryani onto his plate.
"Eat, eat," Sesikala beamed, immensely pleased by the compliment, passing him a bowl of raita. "You boys are always running around the city. You need proper home-cooked food."
"I try to tell him that, Aunty, but Sam survives entirely on bad coffee and office vending machine snacks," Feroz noted dryly, expertly dissecting a piece of fried fish.
"Hey, the vending machine at NEXUS has excellent options," Sameer defended himself with a grin.
Siddanth sat at the head of the table, laughing at the easy banter of his friends. The lunch continued for another hour, filled with loud laughter, old stories from their college days, and the warm, grounding comfort of chosen family.
As they finally pushed back from the table, completely stuffed, Sameer stood up and stretched. He looked out the large glass doors toward the expansive backyard of the estate.
"Alright, we can't leave yet," Sameer announced, pointing toward the far corner of the property. "The biryani is making me sleepy. We need to burn some calories. Box cricket. Right now."
Siddanth laughed, leading the way outside. "You guys never learn, do you?"
"I've been practicing my cover drive, Sid!" Sameer boasted loudly as they walked into the enclosed turf arena. "If I had been facing Dale Steyn in South Africa, I wouldn't have ducked those bouncers. I would have hooked him for six into the stands!"
Feroz immediately ruined the boast. "Sam, you got clean-bowled by a twelve-year-old kid in our last gully cricket match in Mehdipatnam. Dale Steyn would put you in the hospital before you even lifted your bat."
"That kid was chucking the ball! It wasn't a legal delivery!" Sameer argued defensively as Arjun laughed.
Arjun grabbed a bright yellow tennis ball from a bucket, while Feroz picked up a lightweight Kashmir willow bat leaning against the netting. They quickly decided on a simple two-on-two format: Siddanth and Arjun against Sameer and Feroz.
Feroz took guard first. Siddanth walked back a few paces. He didn't take his usual long run-up; he just jogged in and rolled his arm over, keeping the pace light for the backyard game. He bowled gentle, looping off-spin with the tennis ball. They played a relaxed, highly entertaining game, hitting the ball off the side netting for quick singles and laughing every time Arjun completely missed a catch in the outfield.
Eventually, Sameer confidently grabbed the bat, adjusting his grip and tapping the artificial turf.
"Alright, Sid. No spin," Sameer challenged, puffing his chest out. "Give me some pace. Let's see what you've got."
"Are you sure about that, Sam?" Siddanth smirked, tossing the tennis ball from hand to hand.
"Bring it on!"
Siddanth walked back a few paces. He jogged in, keeping the pace light but snapping his wrist sharply upon release.
The yellow tennis ball zipped off the artificial turf. Sameer swung his bat hard, completely closing his eyes as he attempted a massive slog over mid-wicket. He was late on the shot, and the tennis ball bypassed his bat entirely, rattling the plastic stumps behind him with a loud clack.
"Oh, right through the gate!" Feroz howled with laughter from the non-striker's end, clapping his hands. "Beautiful hook shot against Dale Steyn, Sam! Really textbook!"
"The ball skidded! It was the turf!" Sameer complained, throwing his hands up in the air defensively, though he was laughing too.
"Sure it was," Siddanth chuckled, walking down the pitch to retrieve the ball.
They spent another hour in the nets, sweating through their shirts, trading insults, and playing the game in its purest, most joyful form. There were no flashing stadium lights, no umpires, and no national pressure—just four friends having an absolute blast in a backyard.
As the late afternoon sun began to dip, casting long, golden shadows across the lawn, the boys finally called it a day. They grabbed some cold water from the kitchen, thanking Sesikala profusely once more for the incredible meal.
Siddanth walked them out to their car parked in the driveway.
"Safe travels tomorrow, Sid," Arjun said, offering a firm handshake and a brief hug. "Don't worry about the office. I'll get that proposal ready for KTR's office regarding the hackathon."
"Keep me updated on the timeline," Siddanth replied.
"Bowl fast, brother," Sameer grinned, giving him a high-five. "Give the Kiwis a hard time."
"Always," Siddanth smiled.
He watched his friends drive out through the heavy iron gates of the estate. The five days of peace were officially over.
Siddanth turned around, taking a deep breath of the fresh, evening air, and walked back into the farmhouse to pack his heavy, blue national team kitbags. The holiday was done, and the Vice-Captain of India was fully prepared to get back to work.