A/N: Happy Birthday Nicolai_Wasdin, No. 1 Fan of this Fanfic
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Date: August 29, 2013
Location: Rashtrapati Bhavan, New Delhi
Event: National Sports Awards Ceremony
The transition from the chaotic, horn-blaring arteries of central New Delhi to the serene, absolute majesty of Raisina Hill was always a jarring experience.
As the luxury SUV cleared the heavily fortified outer security perimeters and began its ascent up the smooth, wide avenue of Rajpath, the cacophony of the city completely vanished. In its place stood the awe-inspiring, red sandstone monolith of Rashtrapati Bhavan—the official residence of the President of India.
Inside the quiet, air-conditioned cabin of the SUV, the atmosphere had shifted from lighthearted banter to a reverent silence.
Vikram Deva, a man who usually projected an aura of stoic, unyielding middle-class practicality, was staring out the window. His eyes traced the massive iron gates, the manicured Mughal Gardens in the distance, and the towering Jaipur Column.
Sesikala Deva reached over and gently gripped her husband's hand. She didn't say a word, but her eyes were bright, reflecting the exact same overwhelming sense of pride.
Siddanth, sitting in the front row of the passenger cabin beside Virat Kohli, caught the silent exchange in the rearview mirror. A small, deeply satisfied smile touched his lips. He adjusted the crisp white pocket square of his midnight-blue Bandhgala suit. This was exactly why he had insisted on picking them up from the airport. The billions in his offshore accounts meant nothing compared to the look on his parents' faces in this exact moment.
"Massive, isn't it?" Virat Kohli whispered, breaking the silence as he peered out the window at the President's Bodyguard (PBG)—elite cavalrymen sitting motionless on magnificent, impeccably groomed horses lining the driveway.
"It was designed to project absolute power," Siddanth replied quietly, appreciating the sheer architectural brilliance of Edwin Lutyens. "And it does the job perfectly."
The SUV pulled up to a designated VIP drop-off point near the grand steps of the main building. A team of protocol officers, dressed in sharp safari suits with earpieces, immediately stepped forward to receive them.
Siddanth stepped out of the vehicle, the warm afternoon sun catching the rich fabric of his Bandhgala. He turned and offered a hand to his mother, helping her out of the SUV. Sesikala smoothed the pleats of her dark green Kanjeevaram silk saree, looking incredibly elegant and dignified.
"Mr. Deva, Mr. Kohli, welcome to Rashtrapati Bhavan," a senior protocol officer greeted them with a crisp, formal nod. "Congratulations to you both. Please, follow me. We will escort your parents to the designated family viewing gallery in the Durbar Hall, while you both will be taken to the awardees' holding room."
"Thank you," Siddanth nodded politely. He turned to his parents. "I'll see you inside, Amma. Nanna."
"We will be watching, Siddu," Vikram said, his voice thick with emotion. He offered a firm, proud nod before allowing the ushers to guide him and Sesikala away.
Siddanth and Virat were led down a series of breathtakingly wide, high-ceilinged corridors. The floors were polished marble, and the walls were lined with massive, ornate portraits of former Presidents and historical Indian figures. The sheer weight of history in the building demanded absolute decorum.
They were ushered into an ornate holding room where the other National Sports Award winners for the year were gathered. The room was a vibrant cross-section of Indian athletic excellence.
Siddanth immediately recognized several familiar faces. Standing near a window was the towering frame of double-trap shooter Ronjan Sodhi, who was slated to receive the prestigious Rajiv Gandhi Khel Ratna. A few feet away, looking sharp in her formal blazer, was the eighteen-year-old badminton prodigy, PV Sindhu, who was also receiving the Arjuna Award that day.
As Siddanth and Virat entered, the ambient chatter in the room momentarily paused. Even among a room full of national champions and Olympic medalists, the presence of the Vice-Captain and the Captain of the RCB franchise carried a distinct, undeniable gravity.
"Deva, Kohli. Congratulations, boys," Ronjan Sodhi greeted them warmly, stepping forward to shake their hands.
"Thank you, Ronjan sir. Congratulations on the Khel Ratna. Thoroughly deserved," Siddanth replied, shaking the veteran shooter's hand with genuine respect.
"It's a good year for Indian sports," Sodhi smiled.
For the next thirty minutes, the athletes mingled quietly. There was a shared, unspoken camaraderie among them—the mutual understanding of the grueling hours, the sacrifices, and the relentless discipline required to reach this room.
However, the sanctuary of the holding room was occasionally punctured by the reality of Siddanth's dual life.
A Joint Secretary from the Ministry of Youth Affairs and Sports, a middle-aged bureaucrat with a meticulously combed mustache, approached Siddanth holding a clipboard.
"Mr. Deva. A stellar year for you on the cricket pitch. Simply magnificent," the bureaucrat praised, offering a firm handshake.
"Thank you, sir," Siddanth nodded politely.
The bureaucrat leaned in slightly closer, lowering his voice conspiratorially. "I must say, I am also a keen follower of the technology sector. That Bolt 1 device you launched... an absolute marvel of indigenous manufacturing. My nephew is currently studying engineering in Pune, and he has been begging me for one. The website is perpetually out of stock, unfortunately."
Siddanth's internal intuition picked up the inevitable pivot before the man even finished his sentence.
"The demand has exceeded our most aggressive projections, sir," Siddanth replied smoothly, his expression a mask of polite corporate empathy. "We are scaling up our assembly lines to meet the backorders."
"Of course, of course," the bureaucrat smiled knowingly. "I was just wondering if, perhaps, there was a VIP allocation or a priority channel for senior government officials? Just one unit for the boy. I would, of course, pay the full retail price."
Virat Kohli, standing a few feet away and listening in, had to actively bite the inside of his cheek to stop himself from laughing. The sheer audacity of a government official asking for a smartphone favor minutes before a Presidential award ceremony was uniquely Indian.
Siddanth didn't miss a beat. He reached into the inner pocket of his Bandhgala and pulled out a sleek, matte-black metal business card. It contained only a dedicated email address and a highly encrypted phone number for his executive office.
"I appreciate your support for NEXUS, sir," Siddanth said respectfully, handing the metal card to the official. "If you email my executive assistant at this address, he will ensure your nephew is placed on the priority fulfillment list for the next batch. We try to keep the public queues as fair as possible, but we always appreciate the support of the Ministry."
It was a masterful, diplomatic deflection. He hadn't promised a free phone, he hadn't broken his own 'no pre-orders' rule, but he had offered the bureaucrat a polished, VIP-feeling solution that left the man entirely satisfied.
"Excellent. Highly professional, Mr. Deva. Thank you," the bureaucrat beamed, tucking the heavy card into his shirt pocket before checking his watch. "Alright, everyone. It is time. Please line up in the designated alphabetical order. We are moving to the Durbar Hall."
The athletes formed a neat, orderly line. Siddanth took his position, mentally shifting gears. The networking was over. The ceremony was about to begin.
They were escorted out of the holding room and led down the grand corridors, finally stepping through the massive wooden doors of the Durbar Hall.
The sheer scale and opulence of the room took Siddanth's breath away.
Located directly beneath the main dome of Rashtrapati Bhavan, the Durbar Hall was a staggering display of architectural majesty. The floor was paved with geometric patterns of chocolate-colored Italian marble. Towering columns of yellow Jaisalmer stone supported the incredibly high ceilings. At the center of the hall, suspended directly under the dome, hung a massive, glittering Belgian glass chandelier.
And directly behind the President's chair, elevated on a platform, was a priceless, fifth-century ancient Buddha statue from the Gupta period, radiating an aura of absolute, timeless peace over the room.
The hall was packed. The seating areas were filled with high-ranking military generals in full dress uniforms displaying rows of medals, Cabinet Ministers, foreign diplomats, and the proud families of the awardees.
Siddanth's eyes immediately scanned the family gallery on the right side of the hall. He spotted his parents sitting in the second row. Sesikala was sitting perfectly straight, her hands clasped tightly in her lap. Vikram gave his son a subtle, incredibly proud nod as Siddanth took his designated seat in the front row of the awardees' section alongside Virat.
At exactly 4:00 PM, the heavy brass doors at the back of the hall swung open.
The sharp, piercing blast of the President's Bodyguard trumpets echoed through the marble hall, announcing the arrival.
"Ladies and gentlemen, the Honorable President of India," the master of ceremonies announced over the PA system.
Every single person in the Durbar Hall rose to their feet in absolute, synchronized silence.
President Pranab Mukherjee, accompanied by his military aides-de-camp, walked slowly and deliberately down the red carpet aisle toward the main dais. The gravity of the office he held demanded utter respect. He took his position in front of the elevated chair.
The military band in the gallery immediately struck up the national anthem.
Siddanth stood at attention, his chin held high, singing Jana Gana Mana. As the final notes of the anthem faded into the high ceilings of the dome, the President took his seat, and the audience followed suit.
The ceremony operated with flawless, military-like precision. There were no lengthy, dramatic speeches. The focus was entirely on the achievements of the athletes.
The Secretary of the Ministry of Sports took the podium and began reading out the citations.
They started with the Dronacharya Awards for the coaches, followed by the Dhyan Chand Awards for lifetime achievement. Then, they moved to the Arjuna Awards.
One by one, the athletes' names were called. PV Sindhu walked up, receiving a massive round of applause. Virat Kohli's name echoed through the hall, and the aggressive Delhi batsman looked incredibly humbled as he walked up to receive his statuette and scroll from the President.
Finally, the announcer looked down at his cards.
"Siddanth Deva. Cricket."
The Durbar Hall broke its formal, polite decorum for just a fraction of a second as an unusually loud, sustained round of applause rippled through the room. Even the stoic military generals were clapping firmly.
Siddanth stood up, buttoning the top of his midnight-blue Bandhgala.
"Shri Siddanth Deva has redefined excellence in international cricket," the announcer's voice echoed powerfully through the hall, reading the official citation as Siddanth walked with a slow, measured, incredibly confident stride down the red carpet toward the President. "At twenty-two years of age, he has firmly established himself as one of the best all-rounders in the history of the sport. He has played an instrumental role in securing multiple global ICC trophies for the nation, including the ODI World Cup and the recent Champions Trophy."
Siddanth approached the dais.
"Known for his express pace bowling and his staggering batting consistency, he currently holds the record for the fastest century in ODI history. For his outstanding, world-class achievements and his unyielding dedication to the sport of cricket, the Government of India confers upon Shri Siddanth Deva the Arjuna Award."
Siddanth stopped exactly two paces in front of President Pranab Mukherjee. He offered a deep, highly respectful bow of his head.
The President, a seasoned veteran of Indian politics, offered a warm, grandfatherly smile. He picked up the heavy, magnificent bronze statuette of Arjuna—the mythical archer pulling his bowstring taut—and handed it to Siddanth, followed by the ceremonial scroll.
Siddanth accepted the award with both hands. It was surprisingly heavy.
"Congratulations, Siddanth," President Mukherjee said softly, his voice barely carrying over the flashing cameras of the official press pool. "You play with the heart of a lion. The nation is very proud of your contributions."
"Thank you, Mr. President," Siddanth replied quietly, his voice filled with sincere gratitude. "It is the greatest honor of my life."
Siddanth turned to face the cameras, holding the bronze statuette and the scroll against his chest. For three seconds, the flashes of the photographers turned the Durbar Hall into a blinding sea of white light.
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Hundreds of miles away, in a quiet living room in Tarnaka, Krithika was sitting on the edge of her sofa, her eyes glued to the live Doordarshan broadcast.
As the camera zoomed in on Siddanth's flawlessly tailored midnight-blue Bandhgala and his sharp, composed expression, her younger sister Anjali dramatically fanned herself with a magazine.
"Okay, I finally get it," Anjali sighed loudly, pointing at the screen. "He doesn't look like a cricketer. He looks like absolute royalty. It's actually unfair."
At Krithika's feet, Ronny the golden retriever puppy recognized the tall figure on the television screen. The puppy immediately sat up, wagged his tail furiously, and let out a series of happy, high-pitched barks at the TV.
Krithika just smiled softly, reaching down to scratch Ronny behind the ears, her heart swelling with an immense, quiet pride.
Back in the Durbar Hall, Siddanth didn't look at the cameras. His dark eyes bypassed the press pool entirely, locking directly onto the second row of the family gallery.
Vikram Deva was standing up, clapping, completely ignoring protocol. For the first time in Siddanth's life, he saw his tough, stoic father quickly wipe a single, rogue tear from the corner of his eye. Beside him, Sesikala was weeping openly, her face radiating absolute, unfiltered joy.
A small emotional smile broke through Siddanth's usually impenetrable composure. He offered a subtle, almost imperceptible nod to his parents before turning and walking back to his seat.
The rest of the ceremony concluded smoothly. The Khel Ratna was awarded to Ronjan Sodhi, and the event was officially wrapped up with a final rendition of the national anthem.
As the President exited the hall, the strict protocol finally relaxed. The awardees were ushered out of the Durbar Hall and directed toward the Ashoka Hall and the adjacent outdoor terraces for the traditional high tea reception.
The reception was a masterclass in elite Indian networking. Waiters in immaculate white uniforms served Earl Grey tea, cucumber sandwiches, and delicate Indian sweets on fine bone china.
Siddanth, holding his bronze Arjuna statuette, was immediately surrounded.
Several Members of Parliament, senior IAS officers, and defense personnel came over to shake his hand. The conversations were a fascinating blend of cricket analysis and subtle technological inquiries.
"Brilliant spell in Cardiff, Siddanth," a senior Cabinet Minister praised, holding a teacup. "But I must tell you, the real magic is that VANI system your company developed. My staff uses it to translate regional documents offline. It is a game-changer for administrative efficiency."
"I'm glad to hear the technology is serving the government well, sir," Siddanth replied smoothly, slipping effortlessly back into his role as the Architect. "Our goal at NEXUS is to build infrastructure that empowers the nation from the ground up."
The Minister nodded approvingly. "We are keeping a very close eye on your expansion plans in Hyderabad. With the political restructuring happening in Andhra Pradesh soon, the tech sector will be looking for stability. A company like yours will be a vital anchor for the new state."
Siddanth's eyes glinted with sharp, calculated understanding. The Minister had just indirectly confirmed the timeline for the Telangana statehood split. His massive masterplan for the fabless semiconductor campus was entirely on track.
"We are deeply committed to the region, sir," Siddanth smiled. "We look forward to working with the new administration."
After an hour of polite handshakes, photographs, and navigating the complex currents of Delhi's political elite, the reception began to wind down.
Siddanth found his parents near the edge of the terrace. Vikram was holding the heavy bronze Arjuna statuette, examining the intricate craftsmanship of the archer with awe, while Virat Kohli's mother was chatting animatedly with Sesikala.
"Ready to go home, Nanna?" Siddanth asked, walking up to them.
Vikram looked up, holding the award tightly. He placed a heavy, calloused hand on Siddanth's shoulder.
"I never thought I would see the inside of this building, Siddu," Vikram said, his voice quiet and filled with reverence. "To see the President of our country hand you this... I have no words. Your grandfather would have been so proud."
"You built the foundation for this, Nanna," Siddanth said earnestly. "This belongs to our family as much as it belongs to me."
Sesikala wrapped her arm around Siddanth's waist, resting her head against his shoulder. "My king. I am going to put this statue right in the center of our living room. No one is allowed to touch it."
Siddanth laughed, kissing the top of her head. "It's all yours, Amma."
Virat walked over, holding his own Arjuna Award, looking equally exhausted but incredibly happy. "Alright, Deva. My mom is officially dragging me to a relative's house in South Delhi for a celebration dinner. You guys want to come? She made enough chole bhature yesterday to feed a small army."
"Thanks, Cheeku, but we're going to head straight to the airport," Siddanth smiled, shaking his captain's hand. "We have a late flight back to Hyderabad."
"Fair enough. Take care, Sid. Congratulations again," Virat said, offering respectful goodbyes to Vikram and Sesikala before walking away with his mother.
Siddanth and his parents were escorted back to the VIP pick-up zone. The sun was beginning to set over New Delhi, casting a brilliant, fiery orange glow across the red sandstone of Rashtrapati Bhavan.
They climbed into the back of the waiting BCCI SUV. As the vehicle pulled away from the grand steps and began its descent down Raisina Hill, leaving the heavy security perimeters behind, the quiet reality of the day finally settled over Siddanth.
He leaned his head back against the leather headrest, the heavy bronze statuette resting securely in its velvet-lined box on the seat next to him.
He pulled his Bolt from his inner pocket.
The screen was an absolute waterfall of notifications. His NEXUS inbox was flooded with corporate congratulations, but his private Flash Messenger was lighting up with messages from the entire Indian dressing room.
Mahi bhai:Congratulations on the Arjuna, Sid. Very well deserved. Enjoy the moment.Shikhar:Looking sharp in the suit, Captain! Party in Hyderabad when we get back!Raina:Proud of you, brother. Keep making us proud.Ashwin:Congratulations, Sid. The trophy cabinet is running out of space.Rohit:Congrats bro! The broadcast showed you walking down the red carpet. Too much swagger.
Siddanth smiled, quickly typing out a collective 'thank you' to the team group chat. He deeply appreciated the grounded camaraderie of the boys he shared the field with. The awards and the records were nice, but the mutual respect of his teammates was what truly anchored him.
Then, he opened a specific, highly encrypted chat and dialed the number.
The phone rang twice.
"So," Krithika's voice came through the speaker, crisp, familiar, and entirely grounding. "Did you trip on the red carpet, or did you actually manage to look dignified?"
A massive, genuine smile broke across Siddanth's face, completely shattering the polished, formal statesman persona he had worn all afternoon. The tension in his broad shoulders evaporated instantly.
"I looked incredibly dignified," Siddanth replied, his deep baritone rumbling with amusement. "I didn't trip, I didn't drop the statue, and I didn't accidentally insult any Cabinet Ministers."
"Wow. I'm genuinely impressed," Krithika teased, the sound of Ronny the puppy barking happily in the background echoing through the line. "I watched the live broadcast on Doordarshan. You looked very sharp in the Bandhgala, Mama's Boy. The beard definitely worked. You looked like you owned the place."
"My mother is already planning to build a shrine for the award in the living room," Siddanth chuckled softly, glancing at his parents who were quietly talking in the back seat. "It was a good day, Krithi. A really good day."
"I'm so proud of you, Siddu," her voice softened, losing the banter, filled with a deep, profound affection. "You earned every bit of this. Take it all in."
"I will," Siddanth promised, watching the chaotic, neon-lit traffic of Delhi envelop the SUV as they merged onto the main highway. "I'm heading to the airport now. I'll be back in Hyderabad tonight."
"Good. Because you owe me and Ronny a drive. And you still haven't paid me for the sleep I lost watching your match in the Caribbean," she reminded him playfully.
"Double espresso. I remember," Siddanth smiled. "See you soon, Krithi."
He hung up the phone and slipped it back into his pocket.
Siddanth looked out the window at the passing city. The Arjuna Award was secured. The Champions Trophy was sitting in the BCCI headquarters. His technology empire was dominating the market.