The First District Match Begins (Part 1)

Sania's Narration:

"Let me paint you a picture. My host, Arjun Mishra, aka Sultan of Nawabganj, aka King of Gully Cricket, is standing in his tiny room, staring at his district jersey like it holds the secrets of the universe. It's just a shirt, right? Wrong.

Because that name stitched on the back — MISHRA — it's a lot heavier than it looks. It belongs to him, but also to two people who should've been here today. His parents. Except life's a cruel little game, and they left the field way too soon."

Arjun stood still, jersey in hand, heart pounding against his ribs. This was supposed to be a proud moment — first official district match. But pride felt hollow when the two people who deserved to see it weren't around.

His father's voice echoed somewhere inside him — correcting his grip, reminding him to stay light on his feet. His mother's scolding floated in, telling him not to play barefoot or come home with scraped knees.

They were both gone. But today, they were everywhere.

Sania's Narration:

"If you think this is getting too sentimental, buckle up. Because my host has a talent for drowning himself in memories right before big moments. Honestly, it's like self-sabotage is his hidden skill."

His phone buzzed, snapping him out of the spiral.

Rhea:

"All set, Sultan? Or still struggling with your collar?"

Arjun's reply was quick.

"Not fighting the collar. Fighting the ghosts."

Rhea:

"That's why you have me. Ghostbuster on duty."

The Stadium Arrival — Small Fish in Big Pond

Lucknow District Stadium was a world away from Nawabganj. No broken benches, no paan-stained pitches, no Arif Bhai yelling from the boundary. This was polished turf, sparkling stumps, and dugouts cleaner than his entire house.

Around him, boys moved with confidence — fixing gloves, warming up, talking about their coaches and gear sponsors. Arjun's kit bag still smelled of Jubilee dust and chai spills. No one knew his name here. No one cared.

Sania's Narration:

"Fun fact — when you're a gully cricket legend, stepping into a real stadium feels like sneaking into a five-star hotel wearing flip-flops. Everyone's staring, judging, and you're just praying you don't trip over your own feet."

His phone buzzed again.

Rhea:

"You made playing XI, right?"

Arjun:

"Yeah."

Rhea:

"Good. Or else, kulfi date was getting canceled."

Dressing Room — Where Reputations Die

The dressing room smelled of sweat, tension, and too much deodorant. The other players talked in cricket jargon — seam movement, wrist angles, powerplay plans. Arjun just sat silently, tying his shoelaces twice to calm his hands.

Inside his jersey, stitched into the seam, was his father's old black wristband — his secret armor. No prayers today, no rituals. Just the wristband and his memories.

Coach Sharma clapped. "Team meeting!" Arjun barely heard a word. His mind was in Nawabganj, asking his father the same old question:

"Which shot should I start with, Baba?"

Silence.

Sania's Narration:

"If I had a rupee for every time my idiot host talks to imaginary versions of his parents, I'd buy myself a data upgrade. But hey — grief's messy like that."

The Toss — Kanpur Warriors vs Lucknow North

Kanpur won the toss. Chose to bat. Arjun exhaled. Fielding first was better. Less time to overthink.

The team ran onto the field, but Arjun paused at the boundary line. One glance at the sky.

"Look, Baba. Your boy made it."

For a second, the wind felt warm, like an invisible hand on his shoulder.

Cover Point — The Loneliest Spot in the World

First ball — sweet cover drive. Arjun didn't even move before it crashed into the boundary boards. The slip fielder grinned.

"Sultan, go fetch."

Arjun jogged after the ball, fingers curling tight around it. In Nawabganj, no one would've dared send him to fetch. Now? He was a rookie.

Sania's Narration:

"Oof. Ego bruised already? We just got started, hero."

Third over — lazy single to cover. Arjun sprinted in, scooped the ball in one motion, and fired a blind throw at the non-striker's end.

Direct hit.

The umpire's finger shot up.

Sania's System Update:

Run Out — First Official Highlight Unlocked!Match Instinct +1

Somewhere behind the ropes, Rhea grinned, scribbling into her notebook. Arjun didn't smile. Not yet.

Kanpur's Recovery — Arjun Waits

Kanpur's batters slowed down, rebuilding smartly. Arjun stood low at cover point, eyes everywhere — pitch cracks, wind patterns, batter's foot placement. His father taught him that. Cricket isn't just about the ball. It's about reading the whole damn world.

During the drinks break, Rhea shouted from the fence:

"Nice throw, Sultan! Thought I was watching IPL highlights."

Arjun replied without turning:

"Just practicing. Used to chase stray cats the same way."

Sania's Narration:

"The flirting. The banter. Honestly, I should start charging matchmaking fees."

The Empty Stands

But the hardest part wasn't the cricket. It was the stands. Empty — no Bunty Bhai, no Arif Bhai, no familiar faces. Most of all, no parents.

Every time Arjun turned, his eyes found the same section — where his parents should've been. In his head, he saw them there. His father, whistling loud enough to scare crows. His mother, hiding her face when he played a rash shot.

But reality? Just concrete silence.

Sania's Narration:

"You see, this is what makes my host special. Other players fight opponents. Arjun? He fights ghosts."

One Run Out Down — A Hundred Demons Left

Kanpur reached 63 for 1. Arjun's voice grew louder in the field. The nerves faded. The Sultan started to rise.

But today wasn't just about winning. It was about proving something — to himself, to Nawabganj, to two people watching from somewhere far above.

"Watch me, Baba. I'm here."

The wind rustled gently across the pitch, like a silent reply.

Sania's Narration:

"And just like that, my idiot host stepped into his first proper war. One highlight down — a whole battle ahead."