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The drinks break offered no solace to the Pakistani team. The water they drank felt warm; the towels they used to wipe their faces did little to erase the mounting dread in their eyes.
Babar Azam stood near the pitch, hands on his hips, looking up at the colossal, circular roof of the Narendra Modi Stadium. The noise wasn't just loud anymore; it was a physical weight pressing down on his shoulders. 132,000 fans clad in Indian blue were practically foaming at the mouth, chanting a name that was rapidly becoming the bane of global bowlers.
"AARAV! AARAV! AARAV!"
As the umpires called play, Virat Kohli and Aarav Pathak met in the middle of the 22 yards.
"They're going to squeeze us now," Kohli said, his eyes scanning the field. The King's jaw was set, completely locked into his zone. "Spin from both ends. Nawaz is warming up. They want to cut the pace off the ball."
"Let them," Aarav smiled . "You anchor. Run them ragged. I'll take care of the boundaries."
Kohli tapped Aarav's shoulder with his bat. "Show them what you are, Mr. Prince."
Over 15.1: Mohammad Nawaz, the left-arm orthodox spinner, was brought into the attack. He bowled a tight, darting delivery on middle stump. Kohli, batting on 11, leaned forward, playing it with soft hands toward square leg, and immediately called, "Yes!"
What followed was a masterclass in athletic running. Aarav and Kohli didn't run; they sprinted like Olympic track stars. They completed the single before the fielder even reached the ball.
"Just look at the intent," Sunil Gavaskar praised on the VEO broadcast. "That is the hallmark of Virat Kohli. But look at young Aarav matching him stride for stride. When these two are at the crease, the fielders are constantly under pressure. They turn ones into twos and zeroes into ones."
For the next five overs, the stadium witnessed the perfect amalgamation of fire and ice.
Kohli was a surgeon. He manipulated Shadab Khan and Mohammad Nawaz with sickening precision. A subtle open of the bat face here, a delicate flick of the wrists there. He was finding gaps that didn't exist, rotating the strike relentlessly.
But whenever Nawaz or Shadab tossed the ball up even a fraction, or dropped it short by an inch, Aarav turned into a butcher.
In the 17th over, Nawaz made the mistake of flighting one just outside off-stump. Aarav stepped out, his footwork so light he barely disturbed the dust on the pitch. With a monstrous swing of his MRF bat, he launched the ball straight over the sightscreen for a 104-meter six.
"He's making this ground look like a backyard!" Shane Watson laughed in disbelief. "Mohammad Nawaz thought he had beaten him in the flight, but Aarav's reach and power are just unparalleled. He hits it so clean, so flat!"
By the end of the 21st over, the Indian scorecard was ticking over like a supercomputer.
Aarav punched Shadab to deep cover for a single. As he crossed the crease, the massive digital VEO screens wrapped around the stadium flashed a brilliant gold.
AARAV PATHAK - 50 (26 Balls)
The roar that erupted was deafening. Fireworks shot into the hazy Ahmedabad sky from the stadium roof. Aarav raised his bat simply, taking off his helmet to adjust his hair, before pointing his bat towards the dressing room.
"Fifty for the Prince!" Jatin Sapru yelled, his voice echoing over the thunderous applause. "Off just 26 deliveries! In a high-stakes World Cup match against Pakistan, he has come out and played an innings of absolute domination! And look at the other end. Virat Kohli, playing the perfect second fiddle, unhurried, untroubled, moving onto 35 off 37 balls."
"It's a tactical nightmare for Babar Azam," Harsha Bhogle analyzed smoothly. "You set a field for Kohli to stop the singles, and he still finds them. You set a field for Aarav to stop the boundaries, and he just hits it over them. It's a flawless partnership. The King is the anchor, and the Prince is the cannon."
Down in the stands, Jake had his vlogging camera pointed at the giant screen, screaming over the noise. "SARAH! TWENTY-SIX BALLS! IS THAT NORMAL?!"
Sarah, her face painted in the Indian tricolor, grabbed Jake by the shoulders and shook him. "NO! IT'S NOT NORMAL! HE IS INSANE! HE IS THE GOAT!"
Out in the middle, Babar Azam wiped his face with a towel. The spin choke had failed miserably. Nawaz and Shadab were bleeding runs, entirely unable to contain Aarav's raw power or Kohli's strike rotation.
India was cruising at 168/2 in 21 overs. The projected score was terrifying.
Babar desperately signaled his premier fast bowlers. He needed a wicket. He needed a miracle.
"Pace is back," Ian Bishop noted, his voice dropping into that familiar, menacing register. "Babar Azam rolls the dice. Haris Rauf and Hasan Ali are brought back into the attack. They have been expensive, but they are wicket-takers. The problem is, Aarav Pathak is seeing the ball like a beachball right now."
Over 22.1 - Hasan Ali to bowl.
Hasan steamed in, hitting the deck hard, bowling a back-of-a-length delivery at 144 kmph.
Aarav didn't even respect it. He stood tall on his toes, and with a vicious, horizontal bat swing, he pulled Hasan Ali into the second tier over deep mid-wicket.
CRACK.
"GONE! INTO THE NIGHT SKY!" Ravi Shastri roared, taking over the mic. "Hasan Ali says hello with a bouncer, and Aarav Pathak says goodbye with a maximum! The sound of that bat... it's like a gunshot!"
22.2: Hasan, flustered, overcompensated and bowled a wide, booming full toss. Aarav threw his hands at it, slashing it fiercely past backward point. The ball scorched the grass, leaving a trail in the dew, rocketing to the boundary for four.
22.3: Hasan went full and straight. Aarav, perfectly still, presented the full face of the bat and played a textbook straight drive. It was pure elegance, screaming past the non-striker for another four.
Fourteen runs off the first three balls. The crowd was in a state of absolute delirium. The rhythmic beating of the dhols in the stands synchronized with every boundary.
Kohli, standing at the non-striker's end, just shook his head and laughed, tapping his bat on the ground.
Aarav took a single on the fourth ball. Then it was a wide ball. Then on the next ball, Kohli majestically flicked the fifth ball for one. Aarav finished the over with another brutally flat six over extra cover.
"Twenty-three runs from the over!" Ian Smith exclaimed, his voice trembling with adrenaline. "This is no longer a cricket match; this is an execution! Hasan Ali looks completely utterly lost. He's bowling at 145 clicks and he's being treated like a net bowler by a twenty-three-year-old!"
Over 23.0: Babar threw the ball to Haris Rauf. Rauf was breathing heavy, his face a mask of concentration. He wanted revenge for his previous over.
But Aarav was no longer just batting. He had entered a state of flow, a transcendent zone where the ball moved in slow motion.
23.2: Rauf bowled a 152 kmph yorker. Aarav flicked it away with contemptuous ease behind square for four.
23.2: Rauf bowled a slower ball, 120 kmph, hoping to deceive him. Aarav waited. He waited an eternity. And then, he launched it off the front foot, sending the ball soaring over long-on for a monstrous 110-meter six.
"HE IS TOYING WITH THEM!" Ricky Ponting shouted over the deafening crowd. "He is absolutely toying with one of the best bowling attacks in the world! A 152-kilometer yorker? Four. A disguised slower ball? Six. Where do you bowl to this kid? Tell me, where is the safe zone?!"
23.4: Rauf lost his length entirely, bowling a waist-high full toss. Aarav punished it, hooking it over fine leg for another six.
In the span of two overs, Aarav had shifted gears so violently that the entire stadium felt a gravitational pull. He moved from 50 to 86 in the blink of an eye.
Over 24.0: Babar Azam was out of options. His spinners were useless. Hasan Ali and Haris Rauf had been mentally destroyed. He turned to his ace. Shaheen Shah Afridi.
"Afridi returns," Harsha Bhogle announced softly. "The spearhead. The man Pakistan looks to when all hope is lost. But look at the man on strike. Aarav Pathak is batting on 88 from 39 balls. He is twelve runs away from history."
Shaheen marked his run-up. The crowd noise dipped for a fraction of a second, a collective intake of breath from 132,000 people.
24.1: Shaheen ran in, bounding gracefully, and unleashed a 148 kmph thunderbolt aimed at the pads. Aarav's wrists whipped around. A sublime, wristy flick. The ball raced through mid-wicket, perfectly bisecting the two deep fielders. Four runs.
Aarav moves to 92.
24.2: Shaheen pulled his length back, aiming for the ribcage. Aarav swayed, rolled his wrists, and pulled the ball forcefully along the ground. It pierced the gap at square leg. Another four.
Aarav moves to 96.
The stadium was vibrating. The ground beneath Jake and Sarah's feet was literally shaking. Fans were clutching their heads, weeping, screaming, raising their hands in prayer.
"He is four runs away," Ravi Shastri boomed, his voice echoing through living rooms across the planet. "Four runs away from the fastest century in the history of the ICC ODI World Cup! Kevin O'Brien held it before in 50 balls in year 2011 against England. But Aarav Pathak is about to obliterate it. Four runs away. Forty-three balls faced. Afridi has the ball."
24.3: Shaheen steamed in. Desperate, trying to save face, he bowled the perfect delivery. A 150 kmph, toe-crushing, in-swinging yorker aimed dead at the middle stump.
It was unplayable. To anyone else in the world, it was a certain dismissal.
But Aarav's bat came down with the speed of a guillotine. He jammed his bat down exactly in the right spot, digging the yorker out. But he didn't just block it. He used his incredibly powerful wrists to squeeze the ball, angling the face of his bat at the very last microsecond.
The ball squeezed out from under his bat, nutmegged his own legs, beat the diving wicketkeeper, Mohammad Rizwan, and rocketed away toward the fine-leg boundary.
The third-man fielder sprinted, diving desperately.
He didn't make it. The ball kissed the boundary rope.
For three seconds, the world stopped.
And then, Mount Vesuvius erupted in Ahmedabad.
The roar was not of joy; it was of pure, unadulterated worship. The noise breached 130 decibels, the equivalent of a military jet taking off from the pitch.
"HE HAS DONE IT!" Ian Bishop screamed, standing up, taking off his headset entirely, just shouting into the microphone. "THE FASTEST CENTURY IN THE HISTORY OF THE WORLD CUP! FORTY-FOUR BALLS OF PURE, UNFILTERED GENIUS! HE CAME, HE SAW, AND HE HAS CONQUERED AHMEDABAD!"
"TAKE A BOW, AARAV PATHAK!" Ravi Shastri roared in absolute ecstasy. "ONE HUNDRED RUNS IN JUST FORTY-FOUR DELIVERIES! HE HAS SHATTERED THE RECORD BOOKS! HE HAS BROKEN THE SPIRIT OF THE OPPOSITION! AND HE HAS IMMORTALIZED HIMSELF ON THE GREATEST STAGE OF THEM ALL!"
Out in the middle, Aarav Pathak ripped his helmet off. Sweat cascaded down his face, his dark hair messy, his eyes burning with an intense, triumphant fire. He didn't do a subdued celebration.
He threw his arms wide open, looking up at the 132,000 screaming fans, roaring back at them like a gladiator in the Colosseum. He pointed to the crest of the BCCI on his chest, tapped it twice, and bowed to the crowd.
Virat Kohli came sprinting down the pitch from the non-striker's end. He didn't just high-five Aarav; Kohli leaped into the air and bear-hugged him, screaming in pure joy.
"You absolute freak!" Kohli yelled over the noise, shaking Aarav. "You freak of nature!"
The VEO graphics took over the broadcast worldwide, flashing gold and blue.
WORLD RECORDFASTEST ODI WORLD CUP CENTURYAarav Pathak - 44 Balls
"It's not just the speed," Shane Watson said, his voice laced with pure awe as the replays of the innings played. "Look at who he is doing it against. Afridi, Rauf, Hasan Ali. This isn't a minnow team. This is a lethal Pakistani pace attack, and he has systematically dismantled them. Fourteen boundaries. Six colossal sixes. This is an innings that will be talked about for centuries."
The crowd continued to roar for a full three minutes. The umpires had to wait for the noise to die down, but it never really did. It just settled into a continuous, deafening chant.
Aarav put his helmet back on. He was breathing heavily, the adrenaline surging through his veins. He took a single off the next ball, finally rotating the strike back to Kohli.
Kohli, the ultimate master of pacing an innings, had been operating in the shadows of Aarav's explosive supernova. He was sitting quietly on 45 off 42 balls.
Over 25.1: Shadab Khan was brought back into the attack, a desperate attempt to buy some quiet overs.
Kohli wasn't going to let that happen.
Shadab tossed it up. Kohli stepped out, making room for himself, and elegantly lofted the ball inside-out over extra cover. The placement was so perfect, so incredibly precise, that the two fielders converging on it just gave up. One bounce, over the ropes. Four runs.
"And don't forget the King!" Harsha Bhogle smiled. "While the world has been captivated by the Prince's fireworks, Virat Kohli has played a flawless, beautiful innings of his own."
25.2: Shadab bowled it flatter on the leg stump. Kohli tucked it gently into the massive gap at mid-wicket. Aarav called for the run instantly. They sprinted, turning a tight single into a comfortable two.
Kohli completed the second run, grounding his bat, and raised his hand.
"Fifty for Virat Kohli!" Jatin Sapru announced, the crowd roaring once again. "Fifty off just 44 deliveries! It's incredible! Aarav Pathak scores a hundred in 44 balls, and Virat Kohli scores a fifty in exactly the same number of deliveries. Two completely contrasting styles, one singular outcome: total domination!"
Kohli raised his bat, a calm, satisfied smile on his face. He blew a kiss toward the VIP box, a gesture that immediately sent the crowd into a frenzy. He bumped fists with Aarav, the two of them standing in the middle of a pitch they had completely conquered.
"Let's take a breath, if we can," Ian Bishop said as the broadcast flashed the latest numbers. "Let's look at the scorecard, because frankly, my eyes are bleeding from staring at these numbers."
MATCH SCORECARD - ICC CWC 2023
INDIA vs PAKISTANVenue: Narendra Modi Stadium, Ahmedabad
INDIA - 241/2 (25.2 Overs)
BATTERS:
Aarav Pathak: 101* (45 balls) | 14x4, 6x6 | SR: 224.44
Virat Kohli: 51* (44 balls) | 6x4, 0x6 | SR: 115.90
FALL OF WICKETS:
1-61: Shubman Gill - 23 (22 balls) | c Shadab b Afridi (8.4 ov)
2-86: Rohit Sharma - 56 (44 balls) | c Zaman b Rauf (12.3 ov)
"Look at that run rate," Ricky Ponting pointed out on the broadcast. "We are halfway through the innings. They are 241 for 2. Aarav has just hit his century, Kohli is settled, and they still have Shreyas Iyer, KL Rahul, Hardik Pandya, and Ravindra Jadeja waiting in the shed."
"What is the par score here, Ricky?" Wasim Akram asked from the studio.
Ponting chuckled darkly. "Wasim, with Aarav Pathak out there in this mood? Par is whatever India decides it is. If these two bat for another ten overs, we are looking at 400. And against this Indian bowling lineup, 400 is an absolute death sentence."
Down on the field, Babar Azam looked at his fielders. Their shoulders had dropped. The swagger was gone. They were no longer playing to win; they were playing to survive the storm.
Aarav Pathak tapped his bat on the pitch, his eyes locked onto Shadab Khan.
He had his record. He had his century. But the match was far from over.
The Prince wasn't done hunting.
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The VEO broadcast graphics flashed back onto the screen, a chilling reminder of the mathematical devastation that had just unfolded in the first half of the innings.
INDIA - 241/2 (25.2 Overs)(Current Run Rate: 9.51)
BATTERS:
Aarav Pathak: 101* (45 balls)
Virat Kohli: 51* (44 balls)
As Kohli settled back into his stance for the third ball of the 26th over, the atmosphere inside the Narendra Modi Stadium had transcended a mere cricket match. It felt like a coronation.
"If you are just joining us, you have missed history," Ravi Shastri's voice rumbled over the broadcast, thick with emotion. "But do not look away. Because Aarav Pathak and Virat Kohli are not finished. They have a platform built on absolute destruction, and Pakistan's shoulders have completely dropped."
25.3: Shadab Khan tossed it up. Kohli, perfectly composed, leaned in and milked it to long-on for a single. (Kohli: 52, Aarav on strike)*
25.4: Shadab, terrified of Aarav's reach, bowled it flat and wide. Aarav didn't even try to hit it hard. He just opened the face of his MRF bat, using Shadab's pace to glide the ball fine past short third man for four. (Aarav: 105)*
25.5: Shadab bowled middle-and-leg. Aarav casually flicked it to deep square leg for a single. (Aarav: 106, Kohli on strike)*
25.6: Kohli pushed the final ball to sweeper cover for a single. (Kohli: 53).
The precision of their running was tearing the Pakistani fielders apart. Every gap was exploited; every misfield was punished.
For the next five overs, Ahmedabad witnessed a masterclass in controlled, agonizing acceleration.
Kohli was the architect. He pierced the gaps with geometric perfection, scoring boundaries with shots so beautiful they belonged in a museum. A booming cover drive off Haris Rauf. A delicate late cut off Nawaz.
But Aarav Pathak was the executioner.
Whenever he got the strike, the laws of physics seemed to bend. In the 29th over, Hasan Ali tried a 140 kmph slower bouncer. Aarav picked it so early he had time to adjust his grip, have a cup of tea and chat with Virat and then violently swatting it like a tennis forehand over mid-wicket for a 95-meter six.
By the end of the 30th over, the score had skyrocketed to 292/2.
Over 31.0: Shadab Khan was brought back. Babar Azam was officially out of answers. His face was pale, his fielding placements reactionary.
Aarav was on strike. He was sitting on 130 runs from just 55 deliveries.
"He's looking at the stands again," Ian Smith whispered into the mic, a genuine quiver in his voice. "Shadab Khan looks like he wants to be anywhere else in the world right now."
31.1: Shadab tossed it up on off-stump. Aarav stepped out. He didn't just hit it; he hammered it straight down the ground, directly over the umpire's head. The ball slammed into the sightscreen with a deafening thud. Six runs. (Aarav: 136)*
31.2: Shadab dragged it short. Aarav rocked back in a flash and absolutely murdered a pull shot through mid-wicket. Four runs. (Aarav: 140)*
31.3: Shadab pushed it wide. Aarav stretched, completely balanced, and drove it gorgeously through extra cover. Sweeper cover sprinted around and saved the boundary. They ran two. (Aarav: 142)*
Aarav stood at the an end, catching his breath. He had 142 runs off 58 balls. The fastest 150 in ODI history was just two hits away.
"This is not batting," Harsha Bhogle analyzed, pure awe in his cadence. "This is a man playing with the codes of the matrix. He is pre-meditating lines, he is reading lengths before the ball is even released. Pakistan are not bowling badly; they are just bowling to a deity."
31.4: Shadab Khan, desperate and trembling, bowled a loopy, heavily flighted leg-break, throwing it incredibly wide outside the off-stump, hoping to keep it out of Aarav's monstrous arc.
Aarav's eyes widened. He wanted to finish the over with a statement.
He lunged forward, throwing his hands at the ball, aiming for an audacious inside-out loft over deep extra cover.
CRACK.
The sound was pure. The trajectory was massive.
The 132,000 fans in the stadium rose as one, a collective intake of breath sucking the oxygen out of the arena. Up in the broadcast box, Ian Bishop stood up, grabbing the edge of the desk.
"HE'S GONE BIG AGAIN! IT'S HIGH IN THE AIR! BUT HAS HE GOT THE DISTANCE?!"
The ball hung in the Ahmedabad sky for what felt like a lifetime. It was a white meteor plunging toward the deep extra cover boundary.
Fakhar Zaman, stationed on the ropes, locked his eyes on the descending sphere. He backpedaled. He felt the boundary cushion near his foot heel. He timed his jump perfectly, plucking the ball out of the sky with both hands, inches inside the rope.
The stadium fell into a stunned, absolute silence. A pin drop could be heard.
And then, Ian Bishop's voice shattered the quiet.
"CAUGHT! OH, HE IS CAUGHT! A MAGNIFICENT CATCH ON THE BOUNDARY ROPE BY FAKHAR ZAMAN! THE PRINCE HAS FALLEN!"
Down on the pitch, Aarav completed his swing. He looked at Fakhar holding the ball, lowered his head for a fraction of a second, and then exhaled a deep breath.
"It had to take something spectacular to end this," Ravi Shastri boomed. "And that is exactly what Fakhar Zaman has produced! A catch on the edge of the boundary to dismiss the most dangerous man on the planet!"
Aarav tucked his bat under his arm and began the long walk back.
But the silence in the stadium didn't last. Slowly at first, and then like a rising tidal wave, a thunderous standing ovation erupted. It wasn't a cheer; it was a deep, rumbling sound of absolute reverence.
Virat Kohli met Aarav halfway down the pitch. The King wrapped his arms around the Prince, patting his back hard, shouting words of pure admiration into his helmet.
"142 runs," Ricky Ponting said, his voice laced with pure disbelief as Aarav walked off, raising his bat to all four corners of the stadium. "From 59 deliveries. 18 fours. 8 colossal sixes. He has utterly dismantled Pakistan. He came into the mother of all battles and turned it into his personal playground. If you don't have butterflies in your stomach watching this young man walk off, you do not love cricket."
Down in the stands, Jake and Sarah were on their feet. Sarah had tears in her eyes, clapping until her palms were red. Jake had his camera pointed at Aarav's retreating figure. "We just witnessed history," Jake muttered to the vlog, visibly shaking. "We just saw God bat."
Score: 304/3 (31.4 Overs)
As Aarav disappeared into the dressing room to a hero's welcome from Rohit Sharma and the support staff, Shreyas Iyer walked out to the middle.
Pakistan celebrated the wicket, but their relief was short-lived. They looked at the scoreboard. It was only the 32nd over. India was past 300. And Virat Kohli was still there, sitting ominously on 64.
"The problem for Pakistan," Wasim Akram noted solemnly on commentary, "is that the monster has left the crease, but the King remains. And Virat Kohli is not going to let the foot off the gas."
31.5: Iyer took a single off his first ball. 31.6: Kohli kept the strike with a single.
From the 32nd to the 38th over, Virat Kohli unleashed his own brand of elegant carnage. With Aarav gone, Kohli assumed the role of the aggressor.
Haris Rauf tried to bounce him; Kohli contemptuously pulled him in front of square for four. Mohammad Nawaz tried to bowl tight; Kohli used his wrists to whip him against the spin for a flat six over mid-wicket.
Kohli was a man possessed. He was feeding off the energy Aarav had left behind. He raced into the 80s, his eyes completely dialed in, looking destined for yet another century against his favorite opposition.
Over 38.4: Shaheen Shah Afridi, brought back for a final, desperate spell, bowled a brilliant, disguised off-cutter.
Kohli, batting on 88 off 67 balls, tried to manufacture room to slice it over point. The ball gripped the surface just a fraction, taking the toe-end of the bat.
It looped up softly, agonizingly. Mohammad Rizwan, the wicketkeeper, ran forward, diving frantically, and took a brilliant catch inches off the grass.
"GOT HIM!" Jatin Sapru yelled. "Shaheen strikes! The King falls short of a hundred! He tried to force the pace, and the cutter does the trick! Virat Kohli departs for a magnificent 88! But look at the scoreboard, ladies and gentlemen! He has done his job tenfold!"
Kohli walked off to a deafening roar, raising his bat, blowing a kiss to the crowd. He had anchored the storm and then become the storm himself.
Score: 358/4 (38.4 Overs)
Babar Azam looked at his bowlers. They had finally got Kohli and Aarav.
But walking down the pavilion steps were KL Rahul and Hardik Pandya.
"If you are a Pakistani fan, you look away now," Ian Smith warned. "Eleven overs to go. Two of the most destructive finishers in world cricket are at the crease. The platform is 358. We are looking at a score that breaks the scoreboard."
What followed over the next eleven overs was an absolute massacre.
KL Rahul played with silken, aggressive grace, picking up 45 runs off 20 balls. But it was Hardik Pandya who provided the brutal finishing touch.
With his collar popped and his swagger radiating through the stadium, Hardik treated Haris Rauf and Hasan Ali with utter disdain. The helicopter shots came out. The flat, baseball-style hits over long-on shattered the spirits of the deep fielders.
In the 48th over, Hardik hit Shaheen Afridi for three consecutive sixes. The noise in the stadium was so loud that the stump mics were clipping, completely unable to process the decibels.
Over 49.6: The final ball of the innings. Haris Rauf, looking physically exhausted, bowled a wide yorker. Hardik Pandya reached out, sliced it perfectly over backward point, and the ball raced away for one final boundary.
The Indian innings came to a close.
The umpires called time. The Pakistani players looked at the ground, hands on their knees, mentally broken.
The VEO graphics flashed on the giant screen, and the collective roar of 132,000 fans shook the very foundation of Ahmedabad.
"Look at that number!" Ravi Shastri roared, his voice echoing into immortality. "Just stare at it and let it sink in! This is not a video game! This is the ICC World Cup! The mother of all battles, and India has produced a batting performance for the ages!"
MATCH INNINGS SUMMARY - ICC CWC 2023
INDIA vs PAKISTANVenue: Narendra Modi Stadium, Ahmedabad
INDIA - 451/6 (50.0 Overs)(Run Rate: 9.02)
BATTERS:
Aarav Pathak: 142 | 18x4, 8x6 | c Zaman b Shadab
Virat Kohli: 88| 9x4, 2x6 | c Rizwan b Afridi
Rohit Sharma: 56 | 6x4, 3x6 | c Zaman b Rauf
Hardik Pandya: 52* | 3x4, 5x6 | NOT OUT
KL Rahul: 45 | 5x4, 2x6 | c Babar b Rauf
Shubman Gill: 23| 4x4, 0x6 | c Shadab b Afridi
Shreyas Iyer: 18 | 2x4, 1x6 | b Hasan Ali
Ravindra Jadeja: 5* | 1x4, 0x6 | NOT OUT
(Extras: 22)
BOWLING:
Shaheen Afridi: 10-0-88-2
Haris Rauf: 10-0-98-2
Hasan Ali: 10-0-92-1
Shadab Khan: 10-0-89-1
Mohammad Nawaz: 10-0-84-0
"Four hundred and fifty-one runs," Shane Watson exhaled in the commentary box, shaking his head. "They have broken the record for the highest score ever against Pakistan. Aarav Pathak's 142 broke their backs, Kohli's 88 broke their spirit, and Pandya just buried them."
"How do you chase this?" Harsha Bhogle asked softly. "How do Babar Azam and Mohammad Rizwan walk out to bat, knowing they have to score at over nine runs an over from ball one, against Jasprit Bumrah, Kuldeep Yadav, and Aarav Pathak running in at 155 clicks?"
As the Indian players jogged off the field, Aarav Pathak wiped the sweat from his forehead. He glanced up at the giant screen, looked at the monumental number, and smirked.
Half the job was done. Now, he needed to get the ball in his hand.
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The silence inside the Pakistani dressing room was not just quiet; it was suffocating. It felt like a morgue.
The massive flatscreen TV mounted on the wall displayed the final scorecard in bold, glowing numbers, but no one was looking at it. They didn't need to. The number was branded into their retinas.
Target: 452.
Babar Azam sat in the corner, staring blankly at the floor. His pads were strapped on, but his posture was that of a defeated general. Across the room, Shaheen Afridi had a towel draped completely over his head, hiding from the world. Haris Rauf was staring at his bowling boots, his chest still heaving from the physical and mental trauma of the first innings.
Mickey Arthur, the team director, stood in the center of the room. He opened his mouth to speak, to offer some tactical advice, but the words died in his throat. What tactic do you deploy against 451 runs?
"Listen to me," Babar finally spoke, his voice hoarse, cutting through the silence. Every head in the room slowly turned toward their captain.
"We are not chasing this," Babar said, the brutal honesty hanging in the air. "If we go out there trying to score at nine an over against Bumrah and Aarav, we will be bowled out for fifty or sixty. We have a tournament left to play. Our Net Run Rate cannot be destroyed today. We bat the fifty overs. We survive. We respect the good balls, we take the singles, and we get as close to 250 to 350 as we can. Do not throw your wickets away. Is that clear?"
Abdullah Shafique and Imam-ul-Haq, the two openers, nodded numbly. They were about to walk out into a gladiatorial arena armed with nothing but wooden bats against a firing squad.
A few doors down, the atmosphere in the Indian dressing room was a stark, vibrant contrast.
High-fives, laughter, and blasting Punjabi music filled the space. Virat Kohli was enthusiastically reenacting Aarav's scoop shot to Mohammed Siraj and Shubman Gill, while Hardik Pandya was getting his shoulders massaged, grinning ear to ear.
But as the clock ticked down to the start of the second innings, the music was cut off.
Rahul Dravid, the head coach, stepped into the center of the room. The 'Wall' commanded absolute, unquestioned respect. The room fell into an attentive silence.
Dravid looked around, a rare, intensely proud smile on his face.
"What you boys did out there in the last three and a half hours," Dravid began, his calm voice resonating with authority, "was nothing short of spectacular. Rohit, Virat, KL, Hardik... brilliant. And Aarav," Dravid turned to the Vice-Captain, "that was an innings from another planet. You took the game away from them before they even knew what hit them."
A round of applause echoed through the room. Aarav smiled, adjusting his bowling spikes.
Dravid raised his hand, settling them down. His eyes narrowed, the competitive fire of his playing days burning bright.
"But the job is only fifty percent done. Yes, we have 451 on the board. Yes, they are broken. But this is the World Cup. This is Pakistan. I do not want complacency. I do not want you looking at the scoreboard and thinking we have a cushion."
Dravid walked over to the whiteboard, tapping it with a marker. "We don't defend this total. We attack it. I want the same intensity on the first ball that we had on the last. We hunt as a pack. We suffocate them. Let's go out there and show the world why we are the number one team on the planet. Let's finish them."
"YES, COACH!" the team roared in unison.
Rohit Sharma clapped his hands loudly. "Let's go, boys! No mercy!"
As the Indian team walked down the tunnel and stepped onto the lush green outfield, the Narendra Modi Stadium erupted in a roar so visceral it felt like an earthquake. 132,000 fans, bathing in the afterglow of a historic batting performance, were now out for blood.
Abdullah Shafique and Imam-ul-Haq walked out of the pavilion. They looked incredibly small against the colossal, roaring blue sea surrounding them.
Aarav Pathak walked straight toward the umpire, Richard Kettleborough.
"Ball, please, Richard," Aarav requested politely.
Kettleborough held out the mahogany wooden box containing half a dozen brand-new white Kookaburra balls. But before Aarav picked one, he held up a finger.
"Give me a second."
Aarav walked away from the umpire, striding purposely toward the 22-yard strip. The VEO cameras zoomed in, beaming his every move to millions viewers worldwide.
He stopped halfway down the pitch. Slowly, deliberately, the Prince dropped to one knee. He placed his right palm flat against the dry, cracked surface of the Ahmedabad pitch. He closed his eyes for a brief moment, feeling the residual heat of the sun, sensing the abrasive nature of the grass, calculating exactly how much the leather would grip.
"Look at this," Ravi Shastri whispered in the commentary box. "This is not a cricketer. This is an artist analyzing his canvas. He's feeling the surface, checking for moisture, feeling the roughness. He wants to know exactly what this pitch is breathing."
Aarav stood up, wiped the dust off his trousers, and walked back to Kettleborough. He looked into the box, his eyes scanning the distinct seams of the six Kookaburras. He reached out and picked the third one from the left. The one with a slightly more pronounced, perfectly stitched seam.
He tossed it in his left hand, feeling the weight. He nodded to Rohit Sharma.
"I'll take the first over, Skip."
Rohit grinned, tossing him his cap. "Tear them apart."
Rohit signaled the field. It was an outrageously aggressive setup for a One Day International. Three slips. A gully. A short leg. It looked like the first morning of a Test match.
Abdullah Shafique took his guard. His hands were visibly trembling as he marked the crease. He looked up, peering through the grill of his helmet.
At the top of his mark, Aarav Pathak turned around. The number 4 on his back gleamed under the stadium floodlights.
"The atmosphere is absolutely electric," Ian Bishop's voice resonated globally. "The target is 452. The man with the ball is Aarav Pathak. He just scored 142 runs with the bat, and now he has the brand new white Kookaburra in his hand. Abdullah Shafique is on strike. The mother of all battles resumes."
Aarav began his run-up. His strides were smooth, rhythmic, accelerating with every step. The 132,000 fans began a synchronized, slow clap that echoed like a war drum.
Clap... Clap... Clap.. Clap. Clap. Clap!
Aarav hit the crease. The perfect, high-arm action. The explosive snap of his wrist.
The ball left his hand like a white tracer bullet.
The speed gun in the bottom left corner of the broadcast spiked violently. 155.8 KMPH.
It was pitched on a devastating, agonizing length just outside the off-stump. Shafique, relying on instinct alone against that terrifying pace, committed to a forward defensive block, anticipating the ball to hold its line.
But Aarav had analyzed the pitch. He had picked the perfect seam.
In the final split-second of its trajectory, the ball jagged back in sharply off the seam. The late inswing was vicious, defying physics. It bypassed the inside edge of Shafique's bat before he even realized the ball had changed direction.
CRACK.
The sound of the leather completely obliterating the middle stump was picked up perfectly by the stump mics. The stump cartwheeled out of the ground, flying backward and landing two meters away.
For half a second, Abdullah Shafique just stood there, frozen in his forward defense, looking back at the gaping hole where his middle stump used to be.
And then, Ahmedabad exploded.
"BOWLED HIM!" Ravi Shastri's roar completely shattered the audio limiters in the broadcast box. "FIRST BALL! ABSOLUTE CARNAGE FIRST BALL! THE MIDDLE STUMP HAS BEEN UPROOTED FROM THE EARTH! AARAV PATHAK WITH A 155 KILOMETER PER HOUR MAGIC TRICK!"
"THAT IS UNPLAYABLE!" Ian Bishop bellowed over Shastri, standing up from his chair. "THAT IS SIMPLY UNPLAYABLE! YOU CAN BE DON BRADMAN OR SACHIN TENDULKAR, YOU ARE NOT KEEPING THAT OUT! THE LATE SWING, THE RAW PACE! THE PRINCE HAS STRUCK ON THE VERY FIRST DELIVERY!"
Down on the field, Aarav didn't even celebrate wildly. He just turned around, letting out a primal, echoing roar, his veins popping in his neck. Virat Kohli was the first to reach him, leaping into his arms, screaming pure adrenaline into his ear. The rest of the Indian team mobbed him.
The VEO replay flashed on the screen, showing the ball-tracking graphic. The sheer angle of deviation off the pitch at 155.8 kmph was terrifying.
"I have never seen anything like this," Shane Watson muttered in the comm box, genuinely shell-shocked. "He scores the fastest century in World Cup history, and then he comes out and bowls a ball that Wasim Akram would be proud of. Pakistan are dead in the water. They are absolutely broken."
Score: 0/1 (0.1 Overs)
Walking in at number three was Babar Azam. The captain. The lone hope.
Babar looked Confident. He tapped his bat, refusing to make eye contact with Aarav.
Aarav, sensing the fear, decided to toy with him. He bowled the rest of the over with immaculate, suffocating precision, beating Babar's outside edge twice with deliveries shaping away at 153 kmph. It was a maiden over. A maiden wicket over to start the chase.
From the other end, Jasprit Bumrah assumed control. With the pressure already dialed up to a thousand, Bumrah relentlessly targeted Imam-ul-Haq's pads. In the 4th over, Bumrah brought one back sharply. Imam played across the line and was rapped flush on the front pad.
"Given!" Harsha Bhogle called out. "Plumb in front! Bumrah joins the party! The Pakistani openers are back in the hut, and the score hasn't even crossed twenty!"
Score: 18/2 (3.4 Overs)
But the true psychological death blow came in Aarav's fourth over.
Babar Azam was desperately trying to weather the storm, sitting on 12 off 20 balls. He was just trying to survive.
Aarav ran in, his pace never dropping below 150. He bowled three consecutive outswingers, making Babar reach for the ball, planting the seed of doubt in the captain's mind.
For the fourth ball, Aarav changed his grip at the very last microsecond. He hit the deck hard.
It was a 156.2 kmph bouncer. But it wasn't aimed at the helmet; it was aimed directly at Babar's body, climbing off the pitch with venomous steepness.
Babar, entirely set up for the outswinger, was late on the hook shot. He tried to fend it away awkwardly, taking his eyes off the ball. It kissed the shoulder of the bat and lobbed gently toward the slip cordon.
Virat Kohli, stationed at first slip, didn't even have to move. He plucked it out of the air with a massive grin.
"GOT HIM! THE CAPTAIN IS GONE!" Ian Smith's voice trembled with excitement. "Aarav Pathak has completely out-thought and out-bowled Babar Azam! A brute of a delivery, and the King takes the catch off the Prince's bowling! The backbone of the Pakistani batting lineup is snapped in half!"
Babar Azam walked off without looking back. Aarav high-fived Kohli, the two of them laughing at the sheer dominance they were asserting.
Score: 28/3
With the top three gone, the rest of the innings was not a cricket match; it was a highly organized procession.
Rohit Sharma, sensing blood, didn't let off the gas. He brought Hardik Pandya into the attack. Hardik, feeding off the energy of the crowd and bowling with a popped collar and immense swagger, banged the ball into the pitch.
In the 12th over, Hardik got Mohammad Rizwan to top-edge a pull shot straight to deep square leg. Two overs later, Saud Shakeel played a loose drive away from his body off Hardik, nicking it cleanly behind to KL Rahul.
Score: 45/5 (14.2 Overs)
"This is a surrender," Ricky Ponting analyzed bluntly. "They have given up. They are just waving the white flag. The sheer intimidation of that 451 on the board, combined with a pace attack operating at this level of hostility... Pakistan has no answers."
Mohammed Shami was introduced into the attack from the pavilion end, and he immediately turned the pitch into a sniper's nest. Bowling with the most perfect upright seam presentation in world cricket, Shami tore through the lower middle order.
He castled Iftikhar Ahmed with a ball that seamed back just enough to clip off-stump. He trapped Shadab Khan LBW with a skiddy length delivery.
Kuldeep Yadav, introduced to clean up the tail, spun a web that mesmerized the remaining batters. He bowled Mohammad Nawaz with a wrong-un that the batsman completely failed to read, and later caught Shaheen Afridi in his crease, finding the edge to slip.
In the 29th over, Shami returned. Hasan Ali tried to wildly slog a good length delivery, only to see his middle stump go for a walk.
Score: 101/9 (29.2 Overs)
The end was inevitable.
Over 29.5: Kuldeep Yadav tossed up a loopy, inviting chinaman delivery to Shaheen Afridi. Shaheen, swinging blindly in a final act of frustration, got a massive top edge.
The ball went a mile up in the air. Shreyas Iyer settled underneath it at cover, perfectly calm. The 132,000 fans held their breath in absolute unison.
The ball dropped securely into Iyer's hands.
"AND THAT IS THAT!" Ravi Shastri roared, his voice destined for the historical archives. "ALL OUT FOR 101! INDIA ACHIEVE THE IMPOSSIBLE! THEY HAVE DECIMATED, DISMANTLED, AND DESTROYED THEIR ARCH-RIVALS BY A MAMMOTH, RECORD-SHATTERING 350 RUNS!"
The stadium erupted into a carnival of fireworks, laser shows, and deafening music. The Indian team rushed to the center of the pitch, embracing each other, taking the stumps as souvenirs.
FINAL MATCH SCORECARD - ICC CWC 2023
INDIA vs PAKISTAN
INDIA: 451/6 (50.0 Overs)
PAKISTAN: 101/10 (29.5 Overs)
INDIA WINS BY 350 RUNS.
PAKISTAN BATTING:
Babar Azam: 12 (21) | c Kohli b Aarav
Mohammad Rizwan: 18 (25) | c Iyer b Hardik
Rest of the batting line-up collapsed.
INDIA BOWLING:
Mohammed Shami: 6.0-1-18-3
Aarav Pathak: 5.0-1-14-2
Hardik Pandya: 5.0-0-22-2
Kuldeep Yadav: 6.5-0-28-2
Jasprit Bumrah: 7.0-2-19-1
"Look at that margin, Ian," Shane Watson said, pointing at the monitor, his voice thick with disbelief. "Three hundred and fifty runs. In a World Cup. Against a major cricketing nation. It's not just a win; it's a historic humiliation."
"It sends a shockwave through the entire tournament," Ian Bishop concluded, watching Aarav Pathak lead the team off the field, tossing the match ball in the air. "Who can stop this Indian machine? Who can stop Aarav Pathak? Today, Ahmedabad witnessed perfection. And the rest of the world has officially been put on notice."
Down on the field, Jake's vlog camera was shaking wildly as he filmed the celebrations from the stands, his voice completely hoarse.
"They did it, guys! They literally destroyed them! Sarah is crying, the whole stadium is dancing! This is the greatest day of my life!"
Sarah leaned into the frame, wiping a tear of pure joy, tapping the number 4 on her chest.
"I told you," she smiled at the lens. "God bats at number four, and he opens the bowling."
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