Ishan sat on a bench at the National Cricket Academy (NCA), staring at the empty field before him. The sun was setting, casting long shadows across the grass, and the air was heavy with the sounds of distant practice sessions. His mind, however, was a tumultuous storm of thoughts and emotions.
He had always loved cricket, ever since he was a child. It was his passion, his dream, and he had given everything to it. But now, as he sat there, he felt a crushing weight on his shoulders. Despite his hard work and dedication, he felt like he was slipping through the cracks, like he was losing his grip on everything he had worked for.
His mind wandered to the T20 World Cup. India had just won a match against Afghanistan, and he had watched every ball, every run, every wicket. He was so proud of his friends and teammates – Hardik, Surya, Rishabh – who were out there, giving their all for the country. He remembered the time when he and Rishabh were direct competitors, yet always supportive of each other. Rishabh had been selected, and while Ishan was genuinely happy for him, he couldn’t help but feel a pang of regret for his own situation.
He knew he should be there with them, fighting for India, but here he was, practicing alone at the NCA. The fake articles, the comparisons with legends, the public scrutiny – it all weighed heavily on him. He wasn't jealous of his friends; he was proud of them. But his own insecurities were eating him alive. He felt like he was not good enough, like he was failing in his career.
Shubman Gill, his closest friend, was in the USA. Shubman had been distancing himself publicly from Ishan, which hurt more than Ishan cared to admit. Their bond was still strong offline, but the public distance was a reminder of how isolating his situation had become. Shubman was with Ashumant, Ishan’s childhood friend, and his cousin Jugnu – someone Ishan had never had a strong opinion about. Their absence felt like a void, and their presence in the USA felt like a betrayal, even though he knew it wasn’t.
He thought about his family, especially his little nephew who always cheered him on, no matter what. His Patna gang ,shub– Monku and Abhishek – were his rocks, always there for him. His team and his second family, the Pandyas, were his support system. Hardik Bhaiya and Krunal Bhaiya were more than teammates; they were like brothers to him. They all believed in him, but his own doubts overshadowed their faith.
Ishan's phone buzzed with messages and tweets from his true fans, the ones who always wished for his comeback. They believed he deserved it, and deep down, he wanted to believe it too. But the mental fatigue, the constant comparisons, and the fear of failure were overwhelming.
He picked up his bat and walked onto the field, feeling the familiar weight of it in his hands. As he started practicing, each swing and hit was filled with a mix of frustration and determination. He knew he had to push through this, not just for himself, but for everyone who believed in him.
“India comes first,” he whispered to himself. It was a mantra he lived by. Despite everything, despite not having a BCCI contract, he knew his loyalty was to the country. He had to find his way back, not just for his career, but for the love of the game and the pride of representing India.
As he practiced, he felt a small spark of hope. It was faint, but it was there. He had to keep going, for his family, his friends, his fans, and most importantly, for himself. He had to believe that he was worthy, that he could make a comeback. The journey was far from over, and he was determined to fight every step of the way.
The sun dipped below the horizon, and the field was bathed in twilight. Ishan continued to practice, his heart heavy but . He would rise from this, he would overcome his insecurities, and he would prove to himself and the world that he belonged in that field, representing India.
After an intense practice session, Ishan Kishan walked back to his room at the NCA. As he opened the door, he found his friend Swami sitting on the couch, and his two-year-old nephew, Viraj, engrossed in a cartoon on a phone. Ishan chuckled softly at the sight, thinking about how today's generation, the Gen Alpha, were more into phones than anything else.
"Hey, buddy," Ishan greeted Swami, who looked up and nodded in acknowledgment. Swami stood up, giving Ishan a reassuring pat on the shoulder before heading out to give him some privacy.
As soon as Viraj noticed Ishan, his little face lit up. "Chachu!" he exclaimed, jumping up and running towards Ishan with his tiny arms outstretched. Ishan scooped him up, lifting him high in the air, making Viraj giggle uncontrollably. The sound of his nephew’s laughter was like a balm to Ishan’s weary soul.
Ishan sat down on the couch, settling Viraj on his lap. "Kya dekh rahe ho, champ?" he asked, glancing at the cartoon playing on the phone. Viraj babbled something excitedly, pointing at the screen, but Ishan’s mind was elsewhere.
His phone buzzed with a notification. He shifted Viraj slightly and pulled his phone out of his pocket. It was a message from Shubman.
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Shubman
Hey Ishu,
I know things are tough right now, and you're feeling the weight of the world on your shoulders. But remember, I'm always here for you. Distance or no distance, my support for you is unwavering.
Don't let those BCCI idiots get to you. You're stronger than you think. Take one step at a time, and focus on your game. Your comeback will be legendary, I know it.
Also, remember the good times – like when you took care of me during the WC last year. We’re in this together, no matter what.
Take care of yourself, and don’t hesitate to call me anytime. Miss you, baby
P.S. Give Viraj a hug from me 🫵🫂.
---
Ishan felt a lump in his throat as he read Shubman’s message. He could feel the genuine concern and support emanating from the words. He looked down at Viraj, who was now playing with his fingers, and he hugged him tightly, feeling a sense of warmth and comfort.
He typed a quick reply to Shubman.
---
Ishan: Thanks, Shubi meri jaan. Your words mean a lot. I miss you too, yaar. I’ll keep fighting, just like you said. And Viraj sends you a big hug back!🤭🤭
---
Ishan put his phone aside and focused on Viraj, who was now trying to climb onto his shoulders. He lifted the little boy up, placing him on his shoulders, making Viraj squeal with delight. As he walked around the room with Viraj, he felt a renewed sense of purpose. His nephew’s innocent laughter and the unwavering support of his friends gave him the strength he needed.
"Chachu, upar se sab kuch bada lagta hai!" Viraj exclaimed, his tiny hands gripping Ishan’s hair.
Ishan smiled, feeling the heaviness in his heart lift slightly. "Haan, champ. Upar se sab kuch bada aur sundar lagta hai."
As he played with Viraj, Ishan knew that no matter how tough things got, he had the support of his loved ones to keep him going. And with that, he felt a flicker of hope ignite within him, pushing him to keep striving for his dreams.
