[Scene: Arjun's House – Late Afternoon]
The sun dipped low, casting golden rays across the narrow street as Arjun walked alongside his friends—Karan, Lalit, and Rachna. The air was thick with the aftermath of the chess match, laughter trailing them like a breeze.
Karan nudged Rachna with a grin. "I still can't believe you gave up your queen like that. What was that strategy called again?"
Lalit smirked. "The 'emotional damage' opening."
The boys burst into laughter. Rachna rolled her eyes, managing a small smile.
"I wasn't feeling great, okay?" she muttered. "And Yogita was unusually serious today."
Arjun chuckled. "She told me she studied all night. Losing to you last week apparently triggered some ancient vendetta."
Karan's eyes lit up. "Forget chess. Tomorrow's the real event—Red vs Blue, baby! It's all anyone's talking about."
"Vikrant vs Arjun," Lalit declared dramatically. "You two should walk onto the mat in slow motion, with dramatic music and maybe… a flying pigeon."
Arjun laughed. "Why a pigeon?"
"It just adds flair," Karan added. "One majestic pigeon. Wings of destiny."
Their laughter echoed up the walkway as they reached Arjun's house. The door opened before they knocked, revealing his mother with a warm smile.
"You kids sound like a movie trailer," she said, stepping aside. "Come in."
Inside, the familiar scent of cardamom tea and cookies wrapped around them like a memory. They gathered in the living room, mugs in hand, cookies passed around. Arjun's mom joined them, taking a seat with her own cup.
"So," she said with a teasing grin, "Rachna… Yogita finally got her revenge?"
Rachna groaned. "Don't remind me, ma'am. I'm already the star of today's memes."
"That you are," Lalit said, raising his cup. "To fallen queens and glorious defeats."
As the group laughed, Rachna slowly wandered toward a photo wall. Her eyes scanned frames filled with team pictures, family vacations, and trophies. One photo caught her attention—a black-and-white frame of a young man, sharp-eyed and confident, surrounded by a kabaddi team holding a district trophy.
He looked like Arjun. An older version. Rachna leaned in.
Before she could ask, Arjun spoke from the couch. "That's my uncle. Dad's younger brother. He passed away in a car accident years ago."
Just then, the front door clicked open. Arjun's father entered, briefcase in hand, pausing as he overheard his son. His eyes flicked to the photograph.
But instead of the usual scolding for Arjun playing kabaddi too much, he said nothing. A brief glance, a faint nod. Then he moved past them and disappeared into the washroom without a word.
Everyone went still for a second.
No lecture. No sharp words. Just quiet footsteps and a closed door.
Arjun's mother stood beside Rachna at the photo, her smile softer now.
"He meant a lot to this family," she said.
Rachna nodded slowly. "He looked… fearless."
"He was," she replied. "And kind. Very kind."
For a moment, silence reigned—not awkward, but thoughtful. The kind that hangs in homes holding memories.
Soon, the mood shifted back. Lalit stood up and clapped his hands.
"Right, let's talk about the true disaster of the day—Rachna's opening move."
Karan joined in. "She walked her knight like she was taking it out for ice cream."
Rachna picked up a cookie, wielding it like a weapon. "Say one more word, and this turns into a cookie war."
Lalit backed off with hands raised. "We surrender, oh great Cookie Commander."
Even Arjun laughed. The living room buzzed again, warm and alive.
As evening shadows crept in, the group began gathering their things.
"Big day tomorrow," Karan said, slinging his bag over his shoulder. "Rest up, champ."
He looked at Arjun, grinning. "Better not let Vikrant break your ankles."
Arjun smirked. "Worry about your own ankles. I heard Blue Team's been watching our every raid."
Rachna opened the door. "I'm bringing a notebook next time. Gonna record Yogita's every move. No more surprises."
"We'll publish it," Lalit said. "Title: How to Lose Gracefully and Still Be Fabulous."
As they stepped outside, the last rays of sunlight stretched long over the courtyard. Arjun followed them to the gate, waving as they walked off down the road. Rachna glanced back once at the house, her eyes drifting again to the window where the photo still hung.
Inside, the lights dimmed. Arjun's mother cleared the cups. His father stood by the kitchen window, watching the evening unfold in silence.
Outside, Arjun lingered a moment longer at the gate, hands in his pockets, eyes on the darkening sky.
Tomorrow, everything would change.
[State-Level Semifinal – Final 2 Minutes | Score: MH 33 – UP 33]
Commentator 1 (Anita Mishra):
"And here comes Jaydeep! Touches the midline—grabs a handful of that red soil, presses it to his forehead. That's not just tradition, that's warpaint! Look at those eyes—burning with belief!"
Commentator 2 (Ravi Deshmukh):
"He's not just carrying MH's hopes; he's carrying five years of heartbreak. Every year, every near miss—he's turned it all into fuel. And today, he's fire walking."
Anita:
"Jaydeep has been a machine this tournament—14 successful raids, 6 super raids, 2 all-outs delivered. But more than numbers, it's his timing, his nerve... he's been poetry in motion!"
Ravi:
"Now he's facing six defenders. SIX. Most raiders wouldn't even breathe in that space. But Jaydeep? He steps in like he owns the mat. Calm. Dangerous. A lion walking into a pack of hyenas."
Anita:
"Clock's ticking down… this raid could write history. MH hasn't seen a final since the legendary Surya Vashist—Jaydeep's own bloodline. The stakes? More than gold. It's redemption."
[Cut to Audience – Flashback Begins]
A young man, barely twenty-two, leans forward in the stands—eyes locked on Jaydeep. He's tall, sharp-jawed, with a familiar intensity. Beside him, a girl clutches his hand tightly.
"Come on, bhaiya," he whispers under his breath.
The girl looks at him. "He'll do it, Varun. He has to."
Jaydeep lunges—one step, two—dodging a thigh hold, flipping away from a chain tackle. The crowd erupts.
[Match freezes – Frame shifts]
A photo, faded but full of life, hangs on a wall. Jaydeep, sweat-soaked and smiling, lifted high by his team, trophy in hand.
A hand brushes dust from the glass. The present-day Varun—now Arjun's father—stares at it, eyes hollow.
His wife stands beside him, placing a soft hand on his shoulder.
"It's the past, Varun," she says gently.
Varun doesn't respond right away.
Then softly, "He was supposed to come back. That wasn't just a match… it was a goodbye I never saw coming."
She swallows, tears brimming. "Arjun's not him."
"I know," Varun says. "But when I see him on that mat… I see Jaydeep's fire. His recklessness. That match gave me pride. The night after, took my brother."
She nods, wiping his cheek. "Arjun thinks Jaydeep died in a car crash."
"I let him think that. The truth… it would shatter him."
He gazes back at the photo. "And yet, he's walking the same path."
[Cut to Stadium – Loudspeaker Roars]
Commentator (voice trembling with emotion):
"And it's here—today! Red vs Blue! Arjun vs Vikrant! Not just players… they're sons of legacy, warriors of fate! The mat won't just feel their footsteps—it will echo with every heartbreak, every dream. One rises. One falls. And today… history bleeds into dust and glory!"
[Final Shot]
A single tear slides down Varun's cheek as the camera pulls back from the wall, the photo of Jaydeep still glowing faintly in the amber light.