The morning of July 1st arrived with a gentle, overcast sky, casting a cool, pleasant shadow over the Shamshabad farmhouse. Inside the sprawling ho, Siddanth Deva was quickly throwing a few pairs of swim trunks, comfortable t-shirts, and sneakers into a black leather duffel bag. Today was the day. The IPL was over, the international calendar was clear, and his bachelor party weekend was officially comncing.
Downstairs, the house was relatively quiet. Siddanth slung his bag over his shoulder and walked down the marble staircase, dressed casually in dark grey track pants and a fitted black t-shirt.
His mother, Sesikala, was waiting near the door. She held a cup of coffee, eyeing the duffel bag with a mixture of maternal fondness and strict caution.
"Leaving already?" she asked, walking over to him.
"Arjun and Saer want there early to help receive the guests," Siddanth replied, dropping the bag by the door to give her a hug. "Most of the flights from Mumbai and Delhi are landing in an hour."
Sesikala patted his back firmly before pulling away, giving him a pointed, uncompromising look. "Listen to carefully, Siddanth. I know all your friends are going to be there. I know Saer has probably planned a hundred ridiculous things. But do not do anything in excess. Do not go out of control. You are a national player, a role model, and you are getting married in a few weeks. Have fun, but keep your head on your shoulders."
"I promise, Amma," Siddanth smiled, holding his hands up in surrender. "It's just going to be food, gas, and swimming. Nothing crazy. Besides, Mahi bhai is going to be there. He won't let anyone get too wild."
"Good. MS Dhoni has more sense than the rest of you combined," Sesikala stated approvingly.
Siddanth then waved goodbye to his father, who was reading a book in the living room, and stepped out the front door.
A sleek black NEXUS SUV was waiting in the driveway. Siddanth got into the back seat, and the driver imdiately headed toward Arjun's estate.
The destination was a sprawling, private 100-acre estate located on the lush green outskirts of Hyderabad. Arjun had originally purchased and developed the land as a high-end corporate retreat for NEXUS employees—a place for off-site etings, team-building, and privacy. The estate featured a massive central farmhouse built with exposed timber and floor-to-ceiling glass windows, surrounded by dozens of individual luxury guest cottages. It boasted a private lake, a standard artificial turf ground, a professional gym, and a colossal resort-style infinity pool that overlooked the treeline.
For the next three days, it was exclusively reserved for the elite of world cricket.
As Siddanth arrived at the estate around noon, Feroz and Saer were already in full general-manager mode. The logistics were flawless. A fleet of six NEXUS SUVs had been dispatched to the Rajiv Gandhi International Airport to pick up the players arriving on comrcial and chartered flights, while the local players were driving in themselves.
By 3:00 PM, the quiet, serene estate had transford into a bustling hub of athletic energy and chaotic banter.
Siddanth stood at the grand wooden entrance of the main farmhouse, acting as the host as the SUVs began rolling up the long, gravel driveway.
The first car to arrive carried the Delhi and Punjab boys. Shikhar Dhawan stepped out first, wearing bright floral shorts and sunglasses, imdiately letting out a loud, booming laugh. "Gabbar is here! Where is the groom?!"
Siddanth walked down the steps, catching Dhawan in a massive bear hug. "Good to see you, Shikhar."
Right behind Dhawan erged Virat Kohli, practically vibrating with energy, and Yuvraj Singh, who looked incredibly relaxed in a loose linen shirt.
"Look at this place!" Kohli shouted, looking around at the massive estate and the manicured lawns. "Sid, you guys are living like actual kings down here. I thought we were going to a farmhouse, not a Jas Bond villain's lair!"
The next SUV pulled up, bringing the core Mumbai lobby. Rohit Sharma stepped out, stretching his arms and yawning widely. "Tell you have beds ready, Sid. That flight was too early."
"We have beds, Rohit, but you aren't sleeping," Saer shouted from the patio, walking over with a clipboard. "We have activities!"
Rohit groaned, dragging his suitcase while Ajinkya Rahane and Ravichandran Ashwin followed him out, both laughing at Rohit's misery. Pragyan Ojha and Ravindra Jadeja hopped out of the other side, instantly starting a conversation with Yuvraj.
A few minutes later, the overseas contingent arrived. David Warner bounded out of the car, tossing a rugby ball straight at Siddanth's chest. Siddanth caught it cleanly.
"Mate, this weather is brilliant!" Warner cheered.
Kane Williamson stepped out next, ever the gentleman, carrying his own bag and offering a polite, warm smile. "Thank you for the invitation, Sid. The estate is stunning."
Trent Boult, Dale Steyn, and Ben Cutting arrived in the final SUV, rounding out the Sunrisers Hyderabad fast-bowling cartel, alongside Bhuvneshwar Kumar who had driven in locally.
Then slowly other Indian and SRH players also arrived.
The final arrival was the most anticipated. A standalone black Range Rover pulled up, and MS Dhoni stepped out. He was dressed simply in a camouflage t-shirt and jeans. He didn't shout or make a grand entrance; he just smiled, walking up the steps and giving Siddanth a firm pat on the shoulder.
"Congratulations in advance, Sid," Dhoni said warmly. "Now, where is the food?"
Feroz had completely outdone himself on the culinary front. Knowing the strict, often monotonous diets these athletes maintained for ten months a year, he had designed a nu purely focused on indulgence.
The open-air patio backing onto the pool area had been transford into a live kitchen. A massive, imported stone pizza oven was roaring in the corner. Three professional chefs were sliding out wood-fired pizzas at a rapid pace—classic Margheritas with fresh basil, spicy chicken tikka pizzas, and loaded at-lovers pies. Next to the oven was a dedicated slider station, churning out gourt mini-burgers with caralized onions and lted gouda.
For beverages, Feroz had set up a massive, ice-filled trough that looked like a long canoe. It was packed with craft beers, imported lagers, and premium spirits. However, knowing that several players—including Siddanth, Kane Williamson, and Bhuvneshwar Kumar—did not drink alcohol, Feroz had also installed a high-end juice and mocktail bar, blending fresh waterlon coolers, virgin mojitos, and complex citrus spritzes.
The players dropped their bags in their respective guest cottages and imdiately sward the food stations.
"This slider is unbelievable," Yuvraj mumbled, taking a bite of a lamb burger while holding a cold beer.
"Pace yourselves, boys," Arjun announced from the patio steps. "We have three days of this. Don't eat yourselves into a coma on day one."
As the afternoon sun beat down, raising the humidity, the sprawling infinity pool beca the natural center of attention. A professional-grade volleyball net had been stretched tightly across the center of the pool.
Ben Cutting, already in his swim trunks, grabbed a waterproof action cara. "Alright, vlog ti. The boys are hitting the pool!"
Virat Kohli, practically jumping out of his skin with competitive energy, waded into the water holding a bright yellow Mikasa volleyball.
"Alright, listen up!" Kohli yelled, clapping his hands. "Draft ti! We need two teams. Best of three sets to twenty-one. I am captaining Team One. Who has the guts to take Team Two?"
"I'll take it," Dale Steyn announced, pulling off his shirt and diving cleanly into the pool. The South African fast bowling legend surfaced, wiping water from his eyes, looking just as intense as he did standing at the top of his run-up.
"Simple split," Kohli proposed, spinning the volleyball on his finger. "Batsn against Bowlers. Top order versus the tailenders."
"Hey!" Ashwin objected from the shallow end. "I have Test centuries, Virat. Do not call a tailender."
"You're a bowler, Ash, get on Steyn's side," Rohit laughed from a sun lounger, entirely refusing to get into the water, perfectly content with his pizza.
"Alright, so Batsn versus Bowlers," Kohli continued. "Since Siddanth is an all-rounder, I am claiming him for the Batsn. We need his height at the net to block Steyn."
"Hold on, hold on, absolutely not!" Bhuvneshwar Kumar objected imdiately, pointing a finger at Kohli. "You don't get Sid."
"What do you an I don't get him?" Kohli argued loudly, splashing water. "He bats at number four! He scores hundreds! He's a premier batsman!"
"Virat, mate," Trent Boult chid in, leaning casually against the pool edge with a mock-serious expression on his face. "Did you happen to watch the IPL final a month ago?"
"Don't bring up the final," Kohli groaned.
"Look at the tournant stats," Yuzvendra Chahal piped up, swimming over to stand behind Steyn. "Who won the Purple Cap? Twenty-eight wickets! He out-bowled every single one of you guys. He is officially a premier fast bowler today. He belongs on our side!"
"Yeah!" Pragyan Ojha agreed. "He's the Purple Cap holder. Bowlers claim him!"
"But he's the groom!" Shikhar Dhawan argued for the Batsn. "He should play with us!"
Siddanth, standing on the pool deck with a glass of waterlon juice, was laughing hysterically as the two sides bickered over him like school children picking teams on a playground.
"The stats don't lie, Cheeku," Siddanth finally grinned, putting his glass down and pulling off his t-shirt. "Twenty-eight wickets. I'm joining the bowling cartel today."
Kohli threw his hands up in theatrical defeat as the bowlers cheered loudly, splashing water in victory. "Fine! You take him! But we get Dhawan, Warner, and Yuvi!"
The teams were officially locked in.
Team Batsn: Virat Kohli, Shikhar Dhawan, David Warner, Kane Williamson, Yuvraj Singh, and Ajinkya Rahane.
Team Bowlers: Dale Steyn, Trent Boult, Bhuvneshwar Kumar, Ravichandran Ashwin, Ravindra Jadeja, Yuzvendra Chahal, and Siddanth Deva.
The match that followed was unadulterated chaos.
"Ga on!" Kohli yelled, serving the ball over the net with a powerful overhand strike.
Ashwin tracked the ball, bumping it up perfectly to the center. Siddanth, using his height, set the ball high in the air near the net. Steyn launched himself out of the water like a torpedo, his eyes wide with intensity, and absolutely hamred the ball down.
It splashed violently right next to Dhawan, sending a tidal wave of pool water directly into the opener's face.
"Point!" Steyn roared, flexing his biceps and chest-bumping Boult so hard the Kiwi nearly went under.
"Watch the face, Dale, I have endorsents!" Dhawan laughed, wiping his eyes and doing his trademark kabaddi thigh-slap beneath the water.
Warner served next. He aid a tricky, spinning serve toward the back corner. Chahal tried to backpedal to bump it, but because he was so light, the resistance of the water slowed him down completely. The ball dropped a foot away from him.
"Yuzi, you have to move!" Steyn yelled.
"I weigh forty kilos, Dale!" Chahal shouted back defensively, treading water frantically. "If I move any faster, I'll drown! And if I try to block Kohli's spike, the ball will literally snap my wrists in half!"
"Just stand in the corner and look intimidating, Yuzi, I'll cover your zone," Siddanth laughed, moving slightly to his left to cover the gap.
The Batsn rallied. Kohli was incredibly competitive, treating every point like it was the final over of a run chase. He leaped out of the water to block a spike from Jadeja, the ball ricocheting off his forearms and landing perfectly in the Bowlers' empty zone.
"That's how we do it!" Kohli scread, high-fiving Kane Williamson, who looked mildly terrified by Kohli's intensity but politely high-fived him anyway.
As the ga progressed, it devolved into hilarious technical disputes. Ashwin stopped the ga for a full two minutes to argue about the trajectory of a ball that Dhawan claid was out of bounds.
Warner stared at Ashwin blankly. "Mate, we don't even have lines painted on the water. It's out."
"Give them the point, Ash, before he starts bringing out a protractor," Siddanth chuckled, throwing the ball back over the net.
The match point of the first set was a masterpiece of reflexes. Yuvraj set the ball up for Kohli, who wound up for a massive spike. Siddanth read the play perfectly, leaping out of the water simultaneously. As Kohli smashed the ball, Siddanth's hands ford a perfect wall, blocking it straight down into the Batsn's side of the pool.
"Ga, set, Bowlers!" Boult cheered, splashing water everywhere.
Ben Cutting, still recording from the deck, turned the cara to his face. "And the Purple Cap winner seals it for the bowling cartel! The batsn are in shambles!"
While the pool war raged outside, a completely different, but equally intense, battle was taking place inside the cool, centralized AC of the main lounge.
The room was dimly lit, the blinds drawn to prevent glare on the massive 85-inch OLED screen mounted on the wall. The start screen of FIFA 16 was glowing brightly.
MS Dhoni was sitting comfortably on a plush leather beanbag, eating a slice of Margherita pizza with one hand and casually resting his PlayStation controller on his knee with the other. Sitting on the very edge of the sofa next to him, leaning forward so far he was practically inside the television, was KL Rahul.
"Pass it to Bale, pass it to Bale, he's making the run!" Rahul mashed the 'X' button frantically, his thumbs flying over the D-pad.
"I am trying, KL, but you dragged your center-back completely out of position, I have to cover the gap," Dhoni replied calmly, barely moving his fingers as his on-screen player executed a flawless roulette turn in the midfield.
They were locked in a highly competitive 2v2 match. Dhoni and Rahul were controlling Real Madrid, playing against Arjun and Saer, who had selected Bayern Munich.
Arjun was a notorious FIFA sweat. He didn't just play for fun; he knew every broken glitch, and exploit in the FIFA 16 engine. He knew exactly how to abuse Arjen Robben's pace down the right wing, he knew the exact angle for the overpowered near-post finesse shots, and he ruthlessly spamd the sweaty cut-back passes inside the penalty box.
The digital clock in the top corner of the screen read the 88th minute. The score was deadlocked at 2-2.
"He's making a run, Saer, through ball, now!" Arjun commanded, his eyes locked on the screen.
Saer tapped the triangle button. The digital Robert Lewandowski burst past Sergio Ramos, breaking the offside trap perfectly. He was completely one-on-one with the goalkeeper.
"It's over," Arjun smirked, his thumb hovering over the circle button, preparing to execute a chipped shot.
Suddenly, MS Dhoni pressed and held the Triangle button, aggressively rushing his goalkeeper, Keylor Navas, off his line. Just as Arjun powered up the shot, Navas slid out of the penalty box, completely flattening Lewandowski in a violent digital collision.
Tweet! The virtual referee blew the whistle, sprinted over, and pulled out a straight red card for the goalkeeper.
"Are you kidding , Mahi bhai?!" Arjun yelled in disbelief, dropping his controller on his lap. "You just took a red card in the 89th minute! You slide-tackled outside the box!"
"Tactical foul," Dhoni smiled slightly, taking a calm bite of his pizza. "You were definitely going to score. Now it's a free kick from thirty yards out. Good luck."
"You have an outfield player in goal now!" Saer laughed hysterically, watching the digital cutscene where Cristiano Ronaldo awkwardly pulled on the oversized goalkeeper gloves because Real Madrid had no substitutions left.
"Ronaldo will save it," Dhoni said confidently.
Arjun lined up the free kick with David Alaba. By now, the commotion had drawn an audience. Feroz, Naman Ojha, and Pragyan Ojha gathered behind the sofa, eating sliders, waiting for the climax.
"He's going to top-corner this," Feroz predicted.
Arjun carefully adjusted the spin and powered up the shot to exactly two and a half bars of power. The ball curled beautifully over the digital wall, heading straight for the top left corner of the net.
But because it was FIFA 16, the ga's physics engine possessed its own chaotic logic. Ronaldo, despite having a goalkeeping rating of roughly 12, executed a miraculous, acrobatic, one-handed diving save, tipping the ball onto the crossbar. The ball bounced straight down onto the goal line and was imdiately cleared into the stands by Pepe.
The final whistle blew. The ga was going to a penalty shootout.
"I cannot believe that save," Arjun muttered, staring at the screen in pure shock, his mouth slightly open. "Ronaldo is not a goalkeeper. That is statistically impossible."
Dhoni just chuckled, wiping his mouth with a napkin and adjusting his grip on the controller. "Always back your defense, Arjun. The stats don't matter in the final minute."
The lounge doors slid open, and a dripping wet Virat Kohli walked in, holding a towel around his neck.
"Who's winning?" Kohli asked loudly, leaning over Saer's shoulder to look at the screen.
"Mahi bhai just pulled a Jose Mourinho masterclass," Saer laughed. "Red carded his keeper to force penalties."
"Don't drip pool water on the hardwood floor, Virat," Arjun warned without looking away from the screen, his focus entirely on the upcoming penalty shootout.
"Relax, I'm dry," Kohli lied, a drop of water imdiately falling from his hair. He watched the screen intently.
Arjun stepped up first for Bayern. He aid left, but Dhoni dove the right way, saving it with Ronaldo. When it was Dhoni's turn, he calmly stepped up with Gareth Bale. Instead of picking a corner, Dhoni cheekily tapped the shoot button, executing a slow, looping Panenka directly down the middle. Arjun's keeper dove out of the way, and the ball drifted into the net.
The lounge erupted in cheers and groans as Real Madrid won the shootout 4-3.
Dhoni gently placed the controller on the coffee table, completely unbothered by the victory. "Good ga, boys. Who's next?"
"I am," Kohli announced, tossing his towel onto a chair and imdiately grabbing Arjun's controller. " and Ashwin. Where is Ash?"
"He's currently giving a lecture on water resistance in the pool," Rahul laughed, finally leaning back into the sofa.
"I'll play with you, Virat," David Warner said, walking in from the patio, vigorously drying his hair with a towel. "Let's show them how the top-order actually coordinates."
As Kohli and Warner sat down to select Barcelona, Siddanth walked into the lounge, entirely dry and holding a fresh plate stacked with four mini-sliders and a side of fries. He had clearly subbed himself out of the pool ga after securing the victory.
"Who won the water war?" Dhoni asked, looking up at him.
"Bowlers," Siddanth grinned, taking a huge bite of a slider. "Steyn spiked it directly into Rohit's chest for the ga-point. Rohit got so mad he got out of the pool and said he's going back to sleep in his cottage."
The entire room burst into laughter.
Siddanth leaned back against the wall, chewing his food slowly as he watched Kohli aggressively mash the controller buttons, already yelling at a digital Lionel ssi for missing a pass.
This was exactly what Siddanth had wanted when he asked Saer to plan this.
For these three days, inside the fortified, invisible walls of the NEXUS estate, they weren't global icons or billion-dollar athletes carrying the weight of a billion expectations. They were just a group of brothers, eating pizza, fighting over PlayStation controllers, and arguing over out-of-bounds calls in a swimming pool.
Siddanth took a sip of his juice, watching Dhoni calmly intercept another one of Kohli's virtual passes. The bachelor party was off to an absolutely perfect start.
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