Date: September 7, 2013 (Broadcast Premiere)
Location: Across India
The commercial break ended. Across the country, millions of conversations abruptly ceased as the dramatic theme music of Aap Ki Adalat swelled once again.
In the living room of the Deva farmhouse in Shamshabad, Siddanth sat comfortably between his parents, picking at a bowl of popcorn. In Tarnaka, Krithika was curled up on her sofa next to her sister Anjali, while her father, Mr. Rao, leaned forward in his armchair, entirely captivated by the broadcast.
In hotel rooms, microbreweries, and college hostels, the nation waited for the second half of the interrogation.
On the screen, Rajat Sharma adjusted his glasses, his tone shifting from the intense cricketing analytics of the first half to a more probing, personal register.
"Siddanth ji," Rajat Sharma began, smiling knowingly. "Let us talk about your lifestyle. You are twenty-two years old, a billionaire, and the most famous athlete in the country. Yet, you are almost entirely invisible. What exactly does the 'Devil' eat, what do you drink, and how do you maintain a body capable of bowling 155 kilometers per hour?"
Siddanth's televised response was entirely grounded. He detailed his strict regimen explaining the brutal biomechanical impact of fast bowling on the human body.
"No refined sugars?" Rajat raised an eyebrow on the screen. "You never indulge? No cheat meals?"
"I'm human, sir. Of course I have cheat meals," Siddanth chuckled on the broadcast. "If I go back home to Hyderabad and my mother makes mutton biryani, I am eating two plates of it."
In the Shamshabad farmhouse, Sesikala Deva puffed her chest out with immense, victorious pride. She pointed at the massive flat-screen television.
"Did you hear that, Vikram?" Sesikala demanded happily. "National television! He told the whole country about my biryani!"
Vikram Deva, sitting on Siddanth's other side, let out a loud, good-natured huff, crossing his arms. "Yes, Sesi, we all heard it. He praises your biryani to Rajat Sharma, but he completely forgets to mention my Banganapalli mangoes? Unbelievable. The disrespect."
Siddanth laughed out loud, tossing a popcorn kernel into his mouth. "I'll make sure to issue a press release about the mangoes tomorrow, Nanna."
On the television, the conversation smoothly transitioned to Siddanth's mysterious absence from social media.
"I am actually thinking of opening my official account on Vibe soon," Siddanth teased on the screen, causing the studio audience to cheer. "I was just waiting for an important day, or a memorable event..."
In Tarnaka, Anjali looked up from her phone. "Wait, this was recorded a few weeks ago. Is that why he posted that picture with Ajit Doval out of nowhere? Because of this promise?"
"Probably," Mr. Rao muttered, his eyes glued to the screen. "Quiet, Anjali, listen to what Sharma is asking him now."
On the broadcast, Rajat Sharma expertly steered the conversation directly into a media minefield.
"Because you are not on social media, the paparazzi have absolutely nothing to work with," Rajat probed, his eyes locking onto Siddanth. "There are no rumors of you dating any actresses. There are no photographs of you with any supermodels. Is the Vice-Captain of India entirely single?"
In the Rao household, the temperature in the living room seemed to instantly spike by ten degrees.
Krithika froze. Her heart executed a violent, terrifying leap against her ribs. She hadn't expected Rajat Sharma to ask this. More importantly, she hadn't anticipated what Siddanth might have answered.
Oh god, Krithika thought, a cold sweat breaking out on the back of her neck. Please just say yes. Please just say you're focusing on cricket.
On the screen, Siddanth offered a slow, devastatingly confident smirk. He looked directly at Rajat Sharma.
"Who says I don't have one?"
The studio audience on the television absolutely exploded in shrieks and cheers.
In a dimly lit microbrewery in Jubilee Hills, the reaction was equally chaotic, but for entirely different reasons.
While Feroz and Sameer burst into laughter at the smooth delivery, Arjun Reddy's tablet suddenly started buzzing violently. The CEO of NEXUS groaned, dropping his head onto the sticky wooden table.
"He just unleashed two million heartbroken fangirls onto our servers," Arjun muttered miserably, watching the traffic metrics spike vertically. "Vibe is going to crash again."
But in the Tarnaka living room, there was no cheering.
Krithika literally choked on the sip of water she had just taken. She coughed violently, slapping her own chest, her face turning a bright, panicked shade of crimson.
"Oh ho!" Mr. Rao laughed heartily from his armchair, completely oblivious to his daughter's near-death experience on the sofa. "The boy has a secret girlfriend! The media is going to go crazy trying to find out who it is. Probably some wealthy industrialist's daughter."
"I wonder who it is," her mother, Suma, mused from the dining table, looking intrigued by the celebrity gossip. "He seems very protective of her."
Next to Krithika, Anjali slowly turned her head.
Unlike their parents, Anjali already knew the truth perfectly well. She was the one who consistently covered for Krithika, lying to their mother about "extra classes" and "late-night library sessions" whenever Krithika sneaked out to ride around in a squeaky Maruti Swift with the Vice-Captain of India.
Anjali looked at Krithika's bright red, panic-stricken face. A slow, wicked, incredibly mischievous smirk spread across the younger sister's face. She leaned back against the sofa cushions, looked directly at Krithika, and slowly, deliberately raised her eyebrows up and down in a silent, highly obnoxious tease.
Anjali leaned over, bringing her mouth inches from Krithika's ear.
"Looks like your secret boyfriend just couldn't keep his mouth shut," Anjali whispered gleefully. "My price for covering for you just went up, by the way. I want the new Bolt delivered to my room. Or I accidentally drop a hint to Dad about who he is actually dating."
Meanwhile, hundreds of miles away in the Shamshabad farmhouse, a very different, much more direct confrontation was taking place.
The moment Siddanth uttered the words "Who says I don't have one?" on national television, Vikram Deva sat up ram-rod straight.
Vikram slowly turned his head to look at his son sitting next to him on the sofa.
"Siddu," Vikram asked, his voice reflecting pure, unadulterated shock. "You have a girlfriend? Since when?"
Siddanth, the man who had stared down Dale Steyn and hacked a Chinese server farm without blinking, suddenly found himself entirely unable to meet his father's eye.
A rare, deep flush of embarrassment crept up the back of Siddanth's neck. He awkwardly rubbed the nape of his neck, looking intensely at the bowl of popcorn in his lap as if it contained the secrets of the universe.
"I mean... it's... it's recent, Nanna," Siddanth stammered slightly, trying to find a diplomatic way to explain that he had been secretly dating someone.
Vikram frowned, genuinely surprised. As a father, he thought he knew everything about his son's extremely disciplined, isolated life. "Who is it? Is it someone from the cricket circles? Someone from your office in Hi-Tec City?"
Before Siddanth could invent a half-truth to stall the conversation, Sesikala intervened.
The matriarch of the house, who had already extracted the entire truth from them weeks ago in the kitchen, reached over and gently patted her husband's arm.
"It is Krithika, Vikram," Sesikala said calmly, a warm, fond smile on her face.
Vikram paused. He blinked, his mind processing the name. "Krithika! But wasn't she a writer for our company"
"She is not a writer," Sesikala corrected smoothly, immensely enjoying the look of shock on her husband's face. "She is an MBA student. And she has been dating our son for quite some time."
Vikram stared at Sesikala, and then looked back at Siddanth, who was still aggressively avoiding eye contact and rubbing his neck.
For a few seconds, the living room was completely silent, save for the sound of Rajat Sharma pressing Siddanth for a name on the television.
Then, a slow, incredibly warm smile broke across Vikram Deva's face. All the tension and shock instantly evaporated, replaced by a deep, paternal satisfaction. He remembered the girl clearly—polite, fiercely intelligent, and entirely unimpressed by the lavish wealth of the farmhouse.
"Krithika," Vikram murmured, nodding his head approvingly. He reached over and clapped his large hand heavily onto Siddanth's shoulder. "She is a good girl, Siddu. A very good girl. Excellent choice."
Siddanth finally looked up, letting out a massive, invisible sigh of relief. He offered his father a genuine, grateful smile. "Thank you, Nanna."
On the television, Rajat Sharma was not letting the topic drop. Like any good journalist, he wanted a name.
"Alright, we will respect the secret," Rajat smiled politely on the broadcast. "But tell me this, Siddanth ji. Purely as a fan of cinema... who is your favorite actress?"
Siddanth leaned on the wooden railing, offering Rajat a knowing, highly amused look.
"I know exactly why you are asking me this question, Rajat sir," Siddanth said, his deep voice effortlessly dismantling the trap on live television. "You want a headline. You want to connect me to whoever I name. But just so we are completely clear, and to save the news channels some time tomorrow... know that the girl I am dating is not an actress. She has nothing to do with the film industry."
In Tarnaka, Mr. Rao paused his snacking and started listing out possibilities to his family. "It must be Ambani's daughter. Or maybe a highly educated IAS officer. A billionaire like him wouldn't just date a normal, middle-class girl."
Krithika had to sit there and aggressively nod in agreement while sweating profusely. She had been insulated perfectly, but Rajat Sharma pushed for a cinematic answer anyway.
"Very well," Rajat chuckled in defeat on the screen. "But the question stands. Purely as a fan of cinema... who is your favorite actress?"
Siddanth thought about it for a fraction of a second. "Madhuri Dixit, sir. Pure grace and unmatched talent."
"A classic choice," Rajat nodded approvingly. "What about the new generation of actresses?"
Siddanth tilted his head slightly, thinking. "Yami Gautam. I really loved her acting in Vicky Donor."
In the Shamshabad living room, Siddanth's phone instantly vibrated in his pocket. He pulled it out, already knowing who it was.
Headache:Yami Gautam? Really? Can we meet tomorrow? I have to discuss something with you🔪
Siddanth let out a booming laugh, throwing his head back against the sofa. He quickly typed back.
Mama's Boy:Calm down, Shorty. She's a good actress. You're still the prettiest girl in Hyderabad. Don't stab me.
While Krithika was playfully seething over the comment, hundreds of miles away in a luxurious apartment in Mumbai, a completely different reaction was unfolding.
Yami Gautam, who had recently made her highly successful Bollywood debut in Vicky Donor, was sitting in her living room with a cup of tea, casually watching the broadcast. When Rajat Sharma asked the Vice-Captain of India for his favorite new-generation actress, she hadn't expected anything.
When Siddanth Deva explicitly said her name, Yami nearly dropped her teacup.
Her eyes went wide, a look of genuine, flattered shock spreading across her face. The most famous, widely scrutinized, and arguably the most handsome athlete in the country had just singled her out on national television. Within five seconds, her own phone began ringing off the hook—messages pouring in from her manager, her co-stars, and friends.
Yami just smiled, shaking her head in amazement. It was the ultimate, unexpected validation for a newcomer in the industry.
---
After a brief commercial break, the tone of the broadcast shifted drastically. The lighthearted banter vanished, replaced by the heavy, suffocating political gravity of Indian cricket.
Rajat Sharma brought up the persistent rumors of a fractured dressing room, accusing MS Dhoni of systematically sidelining legendary senior players to accommodate the new, younger generation. He asked Siddanth, as the Vice-Captain, to confirm if the dressing room was divided.
"Rumors are just rumors, sir," Siddanth answered on the screen, his voice echoing with absolute, uncompromising authority. "At the end of the day, when you put on that blue jersey... every single person in there wants India to win. It doesn't matter if the team is full of veterans... or juniors... We all fight for the exact same objective."
In a luxurious hotel room in Ranchi, MS Dhoni was watching the broadcast alone.
He took a slow sip of his tea as Rajat Sharma pressed harder on the dropping of the senior legends. Dhoni knew this was the hardest question a Vice-Captain could face. If Siddanth agreed, he threw his captain under the bus. If he deflected weakly, the media would claim the rift was real.
On the screen, Siddanth leaned slightly forward, his eyes locking onto the camera.
"Rajat sir, I will say only this," Siddanth stated, his tone cold, philosophical, and utterly unyielding. "The hardest choices require the strongest wills."
The studio audience on the television fell into a chilled, stunned silence.
Siddanth proceeded to deliver a brilliant, iron-clad defense of MS Dhoni's captaincy. He explained the agonizing, brutal reality of making decisions for the future of Indian cricket, knowing the immense public backlash that would follow if a single gamble failed.
"He makes the decisions no one else has the courage to make. And look at the results. We just won the Champions Trophy undefeated with that exact 'new generation' squad. MS Dhoni's vision is absolute, and this entire team stands behind him."
In Ranchi, MS Dhoni slowly set his teacup down on the saucer.
The usually stoic, emotionless Captain of India felt a heavy wave of respect wash over him. In the cutthroat, deeply political world of the BCCI, players rarely stuck their necks out to defend each other so publicly and so fiercely. Siddanth hadn't just offered a PR answer; he had built a fortress around his captain on national television.
Dhoni picked up his phone, opened his contacts, and sent a single text message to Siddanth: Well played, Vice-Captain.
Simultaneously, in the BCCI headquarters in Mumbai, a group of anxious media executives let out a collective, massive sigh of relief. They had been sweating through their suits, terrified of this unscripted interview.
When Siddanth brilliantly killed the two-year-old 'Seniors vs. Juniors' controversy and united the team on live television, the Head of PR slumped back in his chair.
"We didn't even give him a PR script," the executive muttered, wiping his forehead. "He's actually better at this than our entire media department. Do not ever let anyone else give an interview again. From now on, Deva handles all the national press."
---
The final segment of the show arrived. It was the moment the entire country had been waiting for with bated breath.
Rajat Sharma brought up the darkest chapter of the year: the IPL spot-fixing scandal, the arrested players, and the Elite Panel Umpire, Asad Rauf, fleeing the country.
The atmosphere in the Jubilee Hills microbrewery, where Arjun, Sameer, and Feroz were watching, dropped into absolute, tense silence.
On the screen, Rajat Sharma played the footage from the Eliminator match. He showed the massive gap between Siddanth's bat and the ball, and Asad Rauf's finger going up. He showed Siddanth walking off the pitch with a cold, wry smile.
"Were you in on it, Siddanth? Did you know it was going to happen?" Rajat asked, his voice dropping to a whisper that carried across the nation.
In Tarnaka, Mr. Rao leaned forward, his hands clasped tightly together. This was the question that had shattered the faith of millions of Indian cricket fans. They needed to know if the rot had reached the very top.
On the television, Siddanth Deva did not flinch.
"No, sir. I was not in on it," Siddanth answered, his deep baritone completely steady. "And I had absolutely no idea it was going to happen."
He explained his shock at the decision. And then, Rajat Sharma asked him why he had smiled while walking off after being robbed of a final.
"Rajat sir," Siddanth said softly, looking directly into the primary camera, delivering a philosophical truth that transcended the sport entirely. "Everyone who cries, doesn't mean they are sad. And those who smile and laugh, doesn't mean they are happy."
The sheer, poetic depth of the statement hung heavily over the millions watching.
"I smiled because I realized, in that exact moment, that some things in this world are completely beyond my control... I smiled at the absolute, tragic absurdity of the situation."
Siddanth stood up straight, his eyes locking onto Rajat Sharma, leaving absolutely no room for further doubt.
"I walked away because the umpire's finger was up, and I respect the institution of the game, even if the man enforcing it was corrupt. That is all I have to say on the matter."
In the microbrewery, Arjun let out a massive, shuddering breath, running a hand through his hair. "Flawless," Arjun whispered. "Absolutely flawless."
In Tarnaka, Mr. Rao slowly nodded his head. The skepticism and the heartbreak he had felt towards the sport over the last few months seemed to wash away, cleansed by the sheer, unyielding integrity radiating from the young man on the screen.
"That is a true sportsman," Mr. Rao said quietly, profound respect in his voice. "He didn't throw a tantrum. He respected the game above his own ego. That takes immense character."
On the television, before Rajat Sharma could issue his final verdict, the camera panned to the judge's dais.
Kapil Dev, the legendary World Cup-winning captain acting as the judge for the episode, leaned into his microphone. His voice was thick with deep, unwavering respect for the young Vice-Captain.
"To be robbed on the biggest stage in franchise cricket, and to walk away respecting the game instead of throwing a tantrum..." Kapil Dev stated, his words acting as the ultimate, official validation from the cricketing gods. "That takes immense character. Indian cricket is in very safe hands."
Rajat Sharma slowly sat back in his chair. He offered a warm, highly impressed smile, nodding his head in agreement with the legend.
"Siddanth Deva," Rajat Sharma announced to the camera. "You have faced the toughest bouncers in this court today without flinching. You have answered every question with absolute transparency, brilliant logic, and immense grace. The court officially acquits you of all charges."
The signature, dramatic sound of the wooden gavel hitting the desk echoed through the studio speakers.
The television audience immediately erupted into a massive, deafening standing ovation. Kapil Dev stood up on the dais, applauding loudly. Siddanth stepped out of the witness box, offering a warm, charismatic smile, waving to the cheering crowd before shaking hands with Rajat and Kapil.
The broadcast faded to black, the credits rolling over the roaring applause.
In the Shamshabad farmhouse, Vikram Deva reached over and firmly gripped his son's shoulder. There was no need for words. The pride radiating from his father was absolute.
Siddanth's phone buzzed in his pocket. He pulled it out.
It was a flood of notifications. Texts from Dhoni, Virat, Raina, and Arjun. But one message stood out above the rest.
Headache:My dad just spent five minutes praising your 'immense character'. If only he knew that 'immense character' almost got us arrested for fighting local goons on the street at night. You were brilliant, Mama's Boy. So proud of you.
Headache:But I am still bringing up Yami Gautam every time you annoy me. 🙄
Siddanth smiled, locking the phone.
The trial was over. He had walked into the most dangerous media environment in the country, and he had emerged completely untouchable. The nation had watched, and the Architect had won them all over.
---
As the episode concluded and the weekend night dragged on, the internet officially hit critical mass. Twitter and Vibe were flooded with hundreds of thousands of posts. The sheer emotional rollercoaster of the second half—from the heartbreak of fangirls to the collective relief of cricket purists—shattered social media algorithms across the country:
@BollywoodGossip:"Who says I don't have one?" Millions of hearts just broke simultaneously on live TV. 😭💔 We are officially mourning.
@MemeCentral_IND:Girls across India trying to figure out which "non-actress" Siddanth Deva is dating right now: 🕵️♀️🔍📋
@CSK_Blood:The way he defended MS Dhoni... "The hardest choices require the strongest wills." Deva just built an absolute fortress around Mahi bhai on national television. Respect level 📈📈🇮🇳
@YamiGautamFanClub:HE SAID YAMI GAUTAM!! Vicky Donor supremacy! She must be fainting right now! Best crossover ever! 😍✨
@TechBro_Mumbai:Arjun Reddy right now watching Vibe servers crash and burn because of Deva's girlfriend reveal: 📉🔥💀
@SportsJourno_Raj:"Everyone who cries doesn't mean they are sad. And those who smile... doesn't mean they are happy." The depth of this 22-year-old is staggering. He completely rose above the filth of the spot-fixing scandal. A true statesman.
@Trendulkar:Rajat Sharma thought he was the prosecutor tonight, but Deva turned him into the audience. He controlled every single narrative.
@GabbbarSingh:Deva casually confirming he has a GF but refusing to name her is peak. He dropped the bomb and insulated her perfectly. Corporate strategy 101.
@DelhiBilli:I am officially taking a leave of absence from work on Monday to mourn the fact that Siddanth Deva is taken. Pls respect my privacy at this difficult time. 😭
@BCCI_Insider:The PR department is currently framing that MS Dhoni defense quote to hang in the Mumbai headquarters. Deva just saved them a month of press releases.
@AnimeIndia:"Hardest choices require the strongest wills." Bro sounds like an absolute warlord. We need a compilation of his hardest quotes set to anime music immediately.
@Vibe_Updates:Yes, the servers spiked by 400%. No, we are not okay. Please stop searching for his secret girlfriend, you will not find her. 🛑📱
@CricCrazyJohns:Kapil Dev giving the final verdict and praising his character over the Asad Rauf decision. That's the ultimate validation. The legends recognize the real deal.
@Local_Guy:He didn't rant, he didn't play the victim over the wrong umpire decision. He just dropped a philosophical nuke and left the studio. Absolute cinema.
@SarcasticIndian:The mysterious girlfriend watching millions of girls cry on Twitter right now: 😎🍿👑
---
Poll
Should Deva go to Koffee with Karan?
Yes
No
and what other shows and places he should go?