The heavy iron gates of the Shamshabad farmhouse swung open, allowing the dark SUV to roll up the long, familiar driveway. For Siddanth Deva, the sight of the sprawling mango orchards sweeping past the tinted windows offered a sense of relief.
India had just wrapped up the third Test against South Africa, securing a brief one-week window for the players to spend Diwali at home before the Bangladesh series. After weeks of hotel rooms, team buses, rigorous net sessions, and the intense mental focus required for five-day cricket, the quiet sanctuary of the estate felt like stepping into a different world.
The vehicle came to halt near the main entrance. Stepping out into the warm afternoon air, Deva took a deep breath.
The front doors of the house were already open. Krithika stood on the veranda, a warm, bright smile on her face. Behind her, Vikram and Sesikala waited, their faces reflecting the simple, quiet joy of having their son back under their roof.
Before Deva could even reach the steps, a familiar, excited bark broke the quiet, followed immediately by two small figures appearing from the hallway.
Ronny bounded out first, his tail wagging furiously as he closed the distance, circling Deva's legs in a joyous, panting frenzy. Right behind the dog, Rishi and Aadhya, spotted him almost simultaneously. Their little legs carried them forward in the unsteady, determined sprint unique to toddlers.
Aadhya led the charge, her arms already reaching up, her balance slightly precarious as she navigated the doorway. Rishi followed a few steps behind.
Dropping his travel bags onto the porch, Deva immediately dropped to one knee to give Ronny a quick, affectionate scratch behind the ears before bracing himself.
Aadhya collided with his chest, letting out a loud, delighted squeal. He caught her effortlessly, wrapping his arms around her small frame. A second later, Rishi bumped into his side. Deva scooped the boy up as well, standing with one child resting on each hip. Ronny let out another happy bark, trotting alongside them as they moved.
"Nana!" Aadhya babbled, patting his cheek with a slightly sticky hand.
"I'm home," Deva said, kissing her forehead, then leaning over to kiss Rishi's cheek. The boy looked at him carefully for a moment, recognized the familiar scent, and comfortably rested his head against Deva's shoulder.
Krithika walked down the steps, gently touching his arm. "There were no delays?"
"Landed twenty minutes early," Deva replied, smiling at his wife.
Sesikala stepped forward. "You look tired."
"It's just the travel, Amma" Deva laughed.
"Leave him alone for five minutes," Vikram chuckled, patting Deva on the back. "Let the boy breathe. Come inside, the children are getting heavy for you."
Deva didn't put them down. Carrying both twins, he walked into the cool, familiar interior of the farmhouse, Ronny trailing happily at his heels.
Determined to make full use of the holiday, Deva detached himself from his company work letting his friends to take care of everything.
Mornings began early. The twins were usually awake by six, and Deva made it a point to be the one to get them out of their cribs. He carried them down to the living room, allowing Krithika a little more time to sleep.
During the afternoons, Deva took them out into the expansive gardens.
Walking barefoot on the grass, he held their hands as they practiced their uneven running. Aadhya would frequently let go, trying to chase a butterfly, a stray leaf blowing across the lawn, or a very patient Ronny, who would simply trot a few steps away and lie back down whenever she got too close. She would stumble, fall onto the soft grass, and immediately push herself back up without a single tear.
One afternoon, sitting under the shade of a large mango tree, Deva opened a colorful picture book. Rishi sat comfortably in his lap, looking intently at the illustrations of animals, while Ronny dozed lazily by Deva's feet.
"That's an elephant," Deva said softly, pointing to the page.
Rishi stared at it, his small finger tracing the outline of the trunk.
Aadhya, who had been busy trying to pull handfuls of grass nearby, suddenly noticed the book. She waddled over, squeezed herself onto Deva's other leg, and immediately tried to turn the page before Rishi had finished looking at it.
Rishi let out a short, irritated whine, pulling the book back. Aadhya pulled harder.
"Hold on, hold on," Deva chuckled, gently placing a hand over both of theirs to stop the tug-of-war. "We can share it. Look, Aadhya. Elephant."
She glanced at the page for two seconds, lost interest, and reached up to pull on the collar of Deva's t-shirt instead.
Watching from the veranda, Krithika leaned against the wooden pillar, holding a cup of tea. Seeing her husband sitting in the grass, covered in stray leaves, patiently negotiating peace between two toddlers, brought a smile.
The evenings, once the children were finally asleep, belonged to Krithika and Deva.
The house would settle into comfortable silence. Sitting together in their bedroom or out on the upstairs balcony.
"Anjali is finalizing the environment designs for the new project," Krithika mentioned one night, folding a small pile of the twins' laundry on the bed. "She's been working late almost every day this week."
"She is getting absorbed as the project reaches the final stages," Deva noted, leaning back against the headboard. "Arjun told me the initial renders look incredible."
"She's stressed, but she loves it." Krithika smoothed out a tiny shirt. "Speaking of stress, Riya called today. The wedding preparations are driving her crazy. She said if one more relative asks her about floral arrangements, she might cancel the reception."
Deva laughed softly. "Typical Riya. We need to figure out what time we're leaving on. Rahul has the security protocol ready, but I want to keep our arrival as low-key as possible."
"As low-key as Siddanth Deva can be," Krithika teased lightly, walking over to the wardrobe. "She's just happy you're actually going to be there. Missing the engagement was hard on her, even though she understood."
"I know," Deva said, his tone softening. "That's why we're staying for the ceremony and making sure we see her properly before the crowd gets too big."
Krithika returned to the bed, sitting beside him. She rested her head against his shoulder. He put an arm around her, kissing the top of her head.
A few days before the festival, the quiet of the farmhouse vanished.
Krithika's parents, Subba Rao and Suma, along with Anjali, arrived to spend Diwali with the family.
The kitchen became the undisputed domain of Sesikala and Suma. The two women commanded the space, their conversations flowing effortlessly between Telugu television serials, neighborhood gossip, and the precise measurements required for traditional sweets. The rich, heavy aroma of ghee, cardamom, roasting gram flour, and frying savories drifted through the corridors all day.
Vikram and Subba Rao spent their mornings sitting on the wide veranda, sipping strong filter coffee. Their discussions usually revolved around the agricultural yields of the farmhouse, local government policies, and occasional debates about the current state of Indian politics.
Anjali spent most of her free time chasing the twins around the living room. She was the fun aunt, willing to crawl on the floor and make ridiculous noises, which Aadhya found entertaining.
Deva integrated himself into the background. He helped hang the traditional marigold garlands over the main doorways, carried heavy boxes of supplies from the pantry, and ensured the outdoor lighting was properly arranged.
Diwali morning arrived with a flurry of activity.
The farmhouse woke up before dawn. The air was crisp, carrying the faint, earthy scent of the surrounding orchards. Inside, the house was a whirlwind of preparation.
Getting the twins bathed and dressed in their new traditional clothes proved to be a great endeavor.
Deva took on the responsibility of dressing them while Krithika helped her mother and mother-in-law in the kitchen.
Laying Aadhya on the bed, Deva tried to slip a beautifully embroidered silk top over her head. She immediately twisted away, laughing as she tried to crawl toward the edge of the mattress.
"Aadhya, come here," Deva said, catching her by the waist and pulling her back gently. "Just two minutes. Let's put this on."
She shook her head vigorously, grabbing a nearby pillow and attempting to hide beneath it.
After five minutes of negotiation, distraction, and gentle maneuvering, he finally managed to get her dressed.
Rishi was slightly easier, though he clearly disapproved of the stiff fabric of his small silk kurta. He stood still while Deva buttoned it up, but his brow was furrowed in mild annoyance. He kept pulling at the collar, letting out a small, frustrated sigh.
"I know, buddy. It's a little scratchy," Deva murmured, adjusting the fabric to make it more comfortable. "You look handsome, though."
Once the children were ready, Deva changed into his own traditional clothing—a simple, elegant dark blue kurta.
The entire family gathered in the pooja room. The space was beautifully decorated, the floor adorned with an intricate, colorful rangoli drawn by Krithika and Anjali. Fresh jasmine and marigold flowers draped the small silver idols, and several oil lamps cast a warm, flickering glow over the room.
During the prayers, the family sat together on the floor. Deva sat cross-legged with Krithika beside him, the twins positioned between them.
Rishi stared intently at the main diya, fascinated by the dancing flame. He remained seated, simply watching the light.
Aadhya, however, saw the arrangement of flowers and immediately decided they needed rearranging. She leaned forward, her small hand reaching out to grab a fistful of jasmine from the altar.
Deva quickly caught her wrist, gently pulling her hand back. "No, Aadhya. Don't touch."
She looked at him, her lower lip trembling slightly as she prepared to protest. Krithika seamlessly produced a small, silver bell from a nearby tray and handed it to her. Distracted by the shiny object, Aadhya shook it once, heard the soft chime, and happily decided to play with that instead, forgetting the flowers.
The pooja concluded with a sense of gratitude, the family receiving blessings from the elders before moving toward the dining area.
Lunch was a joyous affair. The long dining table was laden with an array of dishes—spicy pulihora, rich paneer curries, dal, various vegetable preparations, and a daunting selection of sweets.
Sitting on Krithika's lap, Rishi was offered a tiny piece of a mild sweet. He took it cautiously, chewed slowly, and then his eyes widened slightly as the sugar hit his tastebuds. He immediately opened his mouth, leaning forward for more.
Aadhya, sitting on Deva's lap, was far more adventurous. She pointed insistently at a bowl containing a slightly spicier potato dish.
"It's spicy, Aadhya. You won't like it," Deva warned.
She pointed again, letting out a demanding squeak.
Amused, Deva took a small piece, blew on it, and placed it on her tongue. Aadhya chewed. Three seconds later, her face scrunched up into an expression of betrayal. She blinked rapidly, her mouth falling open.
The adults burst into laughter. Krithika quickly gave her a spoonful of plain yogurt to cool her mouth.
"See? I told you," Deva chuckled, wiping her chin with a napkin.
"You people are already spoiling them," Vikram noted from the head of the table, though his own plate had several sweets he was supposedly avoiding. "They run the house now."
"They're grandchildren," Subba Rao added with a wise nod. "That is their job description."
The afternoon faded into evening, the golden hour giving way to the deep blue of twilight.
This was the moment everyone had been waiting for. The exterior of the farmhouse had been beautifully illuminated with hundreds of small clay diyas lining the pathways, the veranda steps, and the edges of the garden.
The family moved outside, gathering near the wide driveway where the fireworks had been arranged.
Deva and Krithika were extremely careful. The twins were kept well back on the elevated veranda, secured safely in their parents' arms. There was no question of letting toddlers anywhere near the sparks or the smoke. Meanwhile, knowing how much he hated loud noises, Anjali had already safely settled Ronny inside the house with a favorite chew toy.
Vikram and Subba Rao took charge of the ground fireworks.
The first flower pot was lit. A fountain of brilliant golden sparks erupted into the dark sky, casting a bright, flickering light across the faces of the family.
Aadhya gasped. Her eyes went wide, reflecting the golden sparks. She pointed a tiny finger toward the fountain, letting out a bright, unrestrained laugh of delight. She bounced slightly in Krithika's arms, captivated by the visual spectacle.
Rishi, held securely by Deva, was less certain. When the flower pot first ignited with a loud hiss, he flinched, burying his face into Deva's neck.
"It's okay, Rishi. Look. Just lights," Deva murmured soothingly, rubbing the boy's back.
Slowly, tentatively, Rishi turned his head. He watched the sparks fall, his grip on Deva's collar remaining tight. As a second, colorful fountain was lit, emitting a shower of green and red light, his apprehension melted away. He didn't laugh like his sister, but he watched with wide-eyed fascination.
Anjali and the mothers lit a few long sparklers, stepping back to draw shapes in the dark air.
Then came the aerial fireworks. Set up far down the driveway, the skyshots were launched.
A loud thump echoed, followed a second later by a massive explosion of purple and gold high above the orchards.
The twins looked up simultaneously. The sudden boom startled them both slightly, but the cascading colors raining down against the night sky immediately commanded their attention.
Standing side by side on the veranda, Deva shifted his weight, wrapping his free arm around Krithika's waist. She leaned into him, resting her head against his shoulder. They stood in comfortable silence, watching their children experience their first Diwali that they were old enough to truly process. The noise of the fireworks faded into the background, superseded by the warmth of the moment.
After the final box of fireworks was exhausted, the family gathered on the steps for photographs.
Getting everyone to look at the camera at the same time proved impossible. Vikram took several pictures, repeatedly asking people to smile.
In the first photo, Aadhya was looking in the wrong direction, trying to reach a nearby pillar.
In the second, Rishi was rubbing his eyes, clearly signaling that it was past his bedtime.
In the third, Deva and Krithika were laughing at something Anjali had said, ignoring the lens.
The remaining days of the holiday passed in a gentle, unhurried rhythm.
There were no major events planned. The days blended together in a routine of long family breakfasts, lazy afternoons playing in the garden, and quiet evening walks around the perimeter of the estate. Relatives occasionally dropped by to exchange sweets and festive greetings.
Then came October 29.
Riya, Krithika's closest friend and a fixture in their lives since their early days together, was getting married.
Deva had missed the engagement ceremony, occupied by national duties. Krithika and Anjali had attended in his place, but he was determined not to miss the wedding.
Getting ready that evening, the couple moved around their bedroom. Krithika wore an elegant, understated Kanjeevaram silk saree in deep emerald green, avoiding overly heavy jewelry so as not to draw unnecessary attention. Deva chose a tailored, charcoal-grey bandhgala suit.
Downstairs, Rahul was coordinating with the security detail. Attending a crowded social event in Hyderabad was a challenge. Deva's fame meant that any public appearance had the potential to turn a private function into a chaotic fan encounter.
"The venue management is aware we're coming," Rahul briefed them as they walked toward the car. "We have a secure entry point. The family has reserved a section near the front, but we need to be prepared for the crowd once you sit down."
"Just make sure the security stays subtle, Rahul," Deva instructed, getting into the vehicle. "It's Riya's day. I don't want guards pushing her relatives around or making a scene."
The drive into the city took nearly an hour, the festive traffic still lingering in the streets.
When they arrived at the grand wedding hall in Banjara Hills, the scale of the event was evident. Hundreds of cars lined the approaches, and the venue was bathed in bright lights and floral decorations.
Exiting the vehicle, Deva and Krithika were immediately flanked by a tight, unobtrusive ring of plainclothes security personnel. They walked through a side entrance, avoiding the main reception bottleneck.
Waiting for them in the quiet corridor just off the side entrance was Kavya. Stunning in a dusty rose silk lehenga, Kavya's stressed posture visibly relaxed the moment she spotted them.
"Finally!" Kavya pulled Krithika into a swift, fierce hug before turning to offer greetings to Deva. "I've been running around like a headless chicken all evening. Riya has asked me five times if your security team got held up in traffic."
"We made it," Krithika laughed, stepping back to inspect her friend. "You look gorgeous, Kavya. How's the bride holding up?"
"She's a bundle of nerves, but she'll calm down the second she sees you guys," Kavya said, adjusting her heavy dupatta. "Come on, I'm sneaking you in through the side wing before the main crowd realizes Sid is here."
Guided by Kavya, they seamlessly bypassed the growing queue of guests and reached the front reserved section.
When they reached the stage, Riya, adorned in heavy bridal jewelry and a stunning red saree, broke into smile. Her groom, a software engineer she had been dating for the past two years, looked equally pleased, if slightly overwhelmed by the sudden shift in the room's energy.
Krithika hugged her best friend tightly, careful not to ruin the intricate makeup.
Deva stepped forward, shaking the groom's hand before turning to Riya.
"You actually made it," Riya laughed, her eyes shining. "I was half-expecting BCCI to schedule a surprise tournament this morning."
"I wouldn't have missed this," Deva smiled warmly. "I'm sorry I couldn't be there for the engagement. You look beautiful, Riya. Congratulations."
"Thank you, Sid. It means a lot that you both came."
"I told you he'd come, didn't I?" Kavya piped up from beside the stage, winking at Krithika. "Now stop tearing up, Riya, or the makeup artist will execute me."
They stepped back, allowing the ceremony to proceed. Deva and Krithika found seats in the front row, sitting alongside Anjali, Riya's parents, and other close friends.
For the next hour, they simply became part of the audience. Kavya sat right next to Krithika, leaning over periodically to whisper hilarious, low-voiced commentary about their distant relatives' overly elaborate outfits, keeping Krithika constantly fighting off giggles.
They watched the rituals, listened to the Vedic chants, and threw the yellow rice to bless the couple at the culmination of the ceremony. Krithika became slightly emotional during the tying of the mangalsutra, leaning her head briefly against Deva's shoulder. He held her hand, quietly taking in the significance of the moment.
Once the formalities concluded.
Deva and Krithika returned to the stage to present their gift. Krithika handed Riya a small, elegant velvet case.
Inside rested a stunning, intricately designed diamond necklace. It was a beautiful, tasteful piece, undeniably expensive but chosen with care rather than to merely display wealth.
Riya opened it, her breath hitching slightly. "Krithi... Sid... this is too much. I can't take this."
"Don't be ridiculous," Krithika said firmly, squeezing her friend's hand. "It's for you."
Deva nodded, keeping his voice low and warm. "It's for both of you, Riya. Start this chapter of your life happily. You deserve it."
"If she doesn't take it, I definitely will," Kavya chimed in playfully from Riya's side, earning a tearful laugh from her twin.
They didn't linger on the stage to accept excessive thanks, stepping down to allow other relatives to greet the couple.
Moving toward the dining area. They ate lightly, standing near a relatively secluded corner. However, as the evening progressed, the initial polite distance maintained by the guests began to erode.
People began approaching, asking for photographs. Deva obliged the first few—mostly elderly relatives or young children. But within ten minutes, a significant crowd had formed around their corner. People were pushing slightly, holding up phones, eager for a selfie with the Indian captain.
The security detail tightened their circle, their expressions hardening as the pressure increased.
Rahul stepped close to Deva's ear. "Sir, the crowd is getting difficult to manage without causing a disruption. We should consider leaving."
Deva looked around. He could see that the attention in the hall had shifted away from the stage and toward his corner. This was what he had wanted to avoid.
"You're right," Deva said. He turned to Krithika. "We need to go before this turns into a circus."
She nodded in understanding.
They made their way back toward the stage one final time, the security guards gently but firmly creating a path. Deva waved to a few people, apologizing politely to those asking for photos, keeping his momentum forward.
They wished Riya and her husband one last time from the foot of the stairs, before exiting through the side doors. Kavya walked with them as far as the side door.
"Thank you both so much for coming," Kavya murmured, giving Deva an appreciative smile. "Get out of here before you get mobbed."
Stepping out into the cool night air, the transition was jarring. Inside, hundreds of people were buzzing with excitement. Outside, there was only the quiet hum of the waiting SUV and the crisp instructions of the security team.
Deva helped Krithika into the car and slid in beside her. The doors closed with a solid, heavy thud, instantly cutting off the noise of the few fans who had followed them outside.
As the car pulled away from the venue, navigating the illuminated streets of Hyderabad, the silence in the cabin was deeply comforting.
Krithika kicked off her high heels with a sigh of relief, curling her feet onto the seat. She looked across the console at Deva. He was already loosening his collar, leaning his head against the leather headrest.
She offered a small, knowing smile. He smiled back.
The holiday was rapidly drawing to a close. In two days, Deva would be back in the national colors, boarding flights, attending press conferences, and leading the team onto the field. The relentless cycle of professional cricket would resume.
But as the city lights blurred past the window, giving way to the darker, quieter roads leading toward Shamshabad, Deva felt entirely grounded.
He had spent the festival with his parents. He had watched the fireworks reflect in his children's eyes. He had celebrated a friend's new beginning. And he was going home with his wife.
The car turned onto the familiar dirt road leading to the farmhouse. In the distance, the warm lights of the estate glowed steadily against the night.