Kapil Sharma leaned back in his armchair, tapping his cue cards against his chin.
"Siddanth, main ek aam insaan ki taraf se ek sawaal poochna chahta hoon," (Siddanth, on behalf of a normal human being, I want to ask you a question,) Kapil started, his tone adopting a mock-serious gravity. "Humne cricket dekha hai. Puraane zamaane mein, batsman aate the, aaram se pitch check karte the, 60-70 ball khel kar apni fifty banate the. Sab kuch bohot shanti se hota tha." (We have watched cricket. In the old days, batsmen used to come, calmly check the pitch, play 60-70 balls, and score their fifty. Everything happened very peacefully.)
Kapil leaned forward, narrowing his eyes.
"Phir aap aaye. Aapne ek baar nahi, do baar ek over mein lagataar chheh chhakke maare hain! Ek toh abhi haal hi mein World Cup Final mein! Bhai, aapko aisi kya jaldi hoti hai? Maa ne bola hai kya ki jaldi ghar aao?" (Then you arrived. You haven't hit six sixes in an over just once, but twice! One of them just recently in the World Cup Final! Brother, what is the sheer urgency? Did your mom tell you to come home quickly?)
The studio audience erupted into laughter.
"Mera matlab hai," (I mean,) Kapil continued, raising his hands in exaggerated exasperation, "aap itni buri tarah maarte ho bowlers ko, aap toh unka career hi khatam karne pe tule ho! 10 ball mein fifty?! Thoda toh reham karo unke bachchon pe!" (You beat the bowlers so badly, you are hell-bent on ending their careers! Fifty in 10 balls?! Have some mercy on their children!)
Siddanth threw his head back, laughing genuinely at the absurdity of the description.
"Aisa kuch nahi hai, Kapil paaji," (It's nothing like that, Kapil paaji,) Siddanth replied, bringing his microphone closer, his voice smooth and grounded. "Woh World Cup Final ka match tha, aur main death overs mein batting karne gaya tha. Hamein pata tha ki score ko aage le jana hai. Toh jab main pitch par gaya, Mahi bhai (MS Dhoni) non-striker end par the." (That was the World Cup Final, and I went in to bat during the death overs. We knew we had to push the score forward. So when I went to the pitch, Mahi bhai was at the non-striker's end.)
Siddanth smiled, recalling the exact moment.
"Mahi bhai aur maine ek dusre ko dekha, aur decide kiya ki ab wicket ki parwah nahi karni hai. Bas ball dekho aur maaro. Toh maine wahi kiya... aur phir aapne dekha kya hua." (Mahi bhai and I looked at each other and decided that we shouldn't care about the wicket anymore. Just look at the ball and hit it. So I did exactly that... and then you all saw what happened.)
"Aapne toh itihas likh diya!" (You literally wrote history!) Kapil praised, as the audience broke into a loud, sustained round of applause for the record-breaking innings.
Kapil let the clapping fade before his expression shifted. The sharp, comedic edge in his eyes softened, replaced by a much more earnest, empathetic look. It was the mark of a great host—knowing exactly when to pivot from comedy to reality.
"Siddanth, hum sabne woh match dekha. Pura desh jashn mana raha tha us innings ke baad," (Siddanth, we all watched that match. The entire country was celebrating after that innings,) Kapil said quietly. "Lekin phir Final ka nateeja hamare haq mein nahi raha. Aapne apna sab kuch de diya tha. Aap injured the, phir bhi aap khele. Jab itni mehnat ke baad aisi haar milti hai, toh kaisa lagta hai? Aapne us waqt ko kaise handle kiya?" (But then the result of the Final didn't go in our favor. You had given absolutely everything. You were injured, yet you played. When you suffer a defeat like that after so much hard work, how does it feel? How did you handle that time?)
The studio was silent. It was the question every cricket fan in India wanted to ask, but nobody had possessed the platform to do so.
Siddanth's posture relaxed slightly.
"Bohot bura lagta hai, Kapil," (It feels terrible, Kapil,) Siddanth admitted, his voice soft. "Khaskar jab aap itne kareeb hote ho. Jab main India wapas aaya, toh main apne ghar se bahar nahi nikla. Mujhe cricket se judi koi bhi baat nahi karni thi, kuch dinon tak." (Especially when you are so close. When I returned to India, I didn't step out of my house. I didn't want to talk about anything related to cricket for a few days.)
"Us waqt, meri maa ne meri bohot madad ki," (During that time, my mother helped me a lot,) Siddanth smiled, a deep affection entering his eyes. "Maa ki ek ajeeb si taqat hoti hai. Unhe pata hota hai ki aapke andar kya chal raha hai, bina aapke kuch bole. Unhone mujhse cricket ke baare mein ek baar bhi nahi poocha. Unhone bas mujhe mera pasandeeda khana khilaya, aur mujhe waqt diya. Unki wajah se main us daur se bahar aa paya." (A mother has a strange power. They know exactly what is going on inside you, without you even saying a word. She didn't ask me about cricket even once. She just fed me my favorite food and gave me time. It was because of her that I was able to come out of that phase.)
The audience let out a collective, emotional "Awww," thoroughly moved by the raw vulnerability from the world's most terrifying fast-bowling batsman.
Before Kapil could offer a sympathetic response, Navjot Singh Sidhu stood up from his massive chair on the side of the stage. His face was flushed with intense, burning pride.
"Kapil! Oh mere bhai, ruk jaa!" (Kapil! Oh my brother, stop!) Sidhu's booming voice demanded absolute attention. He pointed a dramatic finger straight at Siddanth.
"Haar aur jeet toh uparwale ke haath mein hai!" (Winning and losing is in the hands of the Almighty!) Sidhu roared, his theatrical flair dialed to the absolute maximum. "Lekin is insaan ne Semi-Final mein jo kiya hai, woh is desh ka koi bhi baccha kabhi nahi bhulega! Jab iska pair toot gaya tha... jab do kadam chalna mushkil tha... tab yeh maidan par wapas aaya!" (But what this man did in the Semi-Final, no child in this country will ever forget! When his leg was broken... when taking two steps was difficult... that is when he came back onto the pitch!)
Sidhu hit his wooden desk with his palm.
"Yeh kisi aam khiladi ki tarah nahi khela! Yeh ek ghayal sher ki tarah khela!" (He didn't play like a normal player! He played like a wounded lion!) Sidhu yelled, his eyes wide. "Aur yaad rakhna, Kapil... ek ghayal sher apni dahaad mein aur bhi zyada khaufnaak aur beraham hota hai! Isne khade-khade chakke maare hain, mere yaar!" (And remember, Kapil... a wounded lion is even more terrifying and ruthless in its roar! He hit sixes while standing completely still, my friend!)
Sidhu took a deep breath, raised his hand to the heavens, and delivered a customized sher with earth-shattering passion:
"Zakhm kha kar bhi jo maidan nahi chhodte,
Aise hi surma itihas ka rukh hain modte!
Ghayal tha sher, par hausla tha toofan ka,
Ek pair par hi isne utaar diya guroor har dushman ka!"
(Those who do not leave the battlefield even after being wounded,
Only such warriors change the course of history!
The lion was wounded, but his courage was that of a storm,
Standing on one leg, he brought down the arrogance of every enemy!)
"Thoko taali!" Sidhu roared into his mic.
The studio audience gave a massive, emotional standing ovation. Siddanth bowed his head, placing a hand over his heart again to acknowledge the respect.
As the applause died down and Siddanth settled back onto the couch, the heavy wooden door on the set design behind them suddenly creaked open.
A woman walked onto the stage, carrying a tray with a teapot. She was dressed in a simple, slightly garish saree, wearing thick glasses and a distinctly annoyed expression.
It was Manju, Kapil's on-screen wife, played brilliantly by Sumona Chakravarti.
"Lo, aa gayi iski maharani," (Look, his queen has arrived,) Kapil groaned, rolling his eyes as Manju walked over to the coffee table.
Manju completely ignored Kapil. She set the tray down and immediately turned her attention to Siddanth. Her eyes widened, her hands flying to her cheeks in exaggerated shock.
"Haye Ram! Siddanth! Aap hamare ghar aaye hain?" (Oh my God! Siddanth! You have come to our house?) Manju gasped, completely starstruck, immediately adjusting her saree and trying to look elegant. She quickly folded her hands. "Namaste ji! Main Manju Sharma, inki patni... badkismati se." (Namaste! I am Manju Sharma, his wife... unfortunately.)
Siddanth laughed, immediately standing up to greet her respectfully. "Namaste, Manju ji."
Manju turned to Kapil, her hands on her hips, her tone turning shrill. "Aapne mujhe bataya kyun nahi ki itne bade VIP mehmaan aane wale hain? Main apne sabse aache kapde pehan kar aati! Aur thoda makeup bhi laga leti!" (Why didn't you tell me such a big VIP guest was coming? I would have worn my best clothes! And put on some makeup!)
"Arre, naye kapde pehan kar aur paint potne ke baad bhi tere hoth thode chote ho jate kya?" (Hey, even if you wore new clothes and painted your face, would your massive lips have gotten any smaller?) Kapil fired back effortlessly, staring at her mouth. "Aisa lagta hai kisi ne cycle ki tube mein hawa bhar di hai!" (It looks like someone pumped air into a bicycle tube!)
The audience roared. Siddanth bit his lip, trying to suppress a laugh at the classic insult.
Manju glared at Kapil, stomping her foot, before turning a sweet, overly sophisticated smile back to Siddanth, attempting to speak in broken, heavily accented English.
"Siddanth, you please ignoring him," (Siddanth, you please ignore him,) Manju simpered, batting her eyelashes. "You are looking very handsome today. Please, have some tea. I making it special for you."
Kapil instantly leaped out of his chair, standing between Manju and Siddanth, looking genuinely horrified.
"Siddanth, galti se bhi iski chai mat peena!" (Siddanth, don't even drink her tea by mistake!) Kapil yelled, pointing an accusatory finger at the teapot. "Yeh aurat itni kanjoos hai, isne kal ki bachi hui chai patti dho kar aur dhoop mein sukha kar wapas ubaali hai! Tere pet mein jaa kar yeh T20 match khelne lagegi!" (This woman is so incredibly stingy, she washed yesterday's leftover tea leaves, dried them in the sun, and boiled them again! If it goes into your stomach, it will start playing a T20 match!)
Siddanth burst out laughing, covering his face with his hand.
Manju swatted Kapil's arm away. "Bakwaas mat karo! Main bohot acchi chai banati hoon!" (Stop talking nonsense! I make very good tea!) She leaned closer to Siddanth. "Siddanth, inki baaton par dhyan mat dijiye. Aap yeh batayiye... aapko meri behen, Rajni, kaisi lagti hai? Woh aapki bohot badi fan hai! Uske kamre mein aapke hi posters lage hain!" (Siddanth, don't pay attention to his words. Tell me this... how do you like my sister, Rajni? She is a huge fan of yours! Her room is entirely covered in your posters!)
Siddanth blinked, momentarily caught off guard by the abrupt matchmaking attempt. "Uh... main unse kabhi mila nahi, Manju ji." (Uh... I have never met her, Manju.)
"Arre milne ki kya zaroorat hai!" (Oh, what is the need to meet!) Manju waved her hand dismissively. "Woh bilkul meri tarah sundar aur sushil hai! Agar aap haan bolein, toh main apne pitaji se baat karun aapke rishte ke liye?" (She is exactly as beautiful and well-mannered as I am! If you say yes, should I talk to my father regarding your marriage?)
Kapil threw his hands in the air, pacing around the stage like a man who was losing his mind.
"Oye pagal aurat! Bakwaas band kar!" (Oye crazy woman! Stop this nonsense!) Kapil yelled. "Tumhara poora khandaan pagal hai! Yeh desh ka Test captain hai! Isne duniya ke sabse khatarnak bowlers ko dhoya hai! Aur tu iski shadi apni us behen se karwana chahti hai?!" (Your entire family is crazy! He is the Test captain of India! He has thrashed the most dangerous bowlers in the world! And you want to get him married to that sister of yours?!)
Kapil turned to Siddanth, placing a protective hand on his shoulder.
"Siddanth, iski behen Rajni ko kabhi mat milna. Iske daant itne aage ko nikle hue hain, ki jab gaon mein barish hoti hai, toh iska aadha khandaan uske daanton ke neeche shelter leta hai!" (Siddanth, never meet her sister Rajni. Her teeth are sticking out so far that when it rains in the village, half of her family takes shelter under her teeth!)
The studio audience completely lost it, clapping and whistling at the brutal roast. Siddanth was laughing so hard his shoulders were shaking.
"Mere parivaar ke baare mein kuch mat bolo!" (Don't say anything about my family!) Manju shrieked, thoroughly insulted. "Mere pitaji bohot ameer aur dil wale insaan hain!" (My father is a very rich and generous man!)
"Tera baap!" (Your father!) Kapil scoffed loudly, stepping right up to her. "Siddanth, iska baap itna bada kanjoos hai... usne ghar mein ek kutta paala hai. Lekin usey bhonkne nahi deta! Kehta hai kutte ki battery khatam ho jayegi!" (Your father! Siddanth, her father is such a massive miser... he keeps a pet dog in the house. But he doesn't let the dog bark! He says the dog's battery will drain out!)
Siddanth had to lean forward and rest his forehead on his hand, completely destroyed by Kapil's impeccable, deadpan delivery.
Manju let out a loud, frustrated grunt, stomping both her feet. "Sharma ji! Main jaa rahi hoon! Mere paas is sab ke liye waqt nahi hai! Siddanth, aapse milkar accha laga!" (Sharma ji! I am leaving! I don't have time for all this! Siddanth, it was nice meeting you!)
Manju picked up her tray and stormed off the set, her saree flailing behind her, the door slamming shut.
Kapil watched her go, shaking his head slowly before turning back to Siddanth with a weary, tragic expression.
"Pagal family hai. Pura ka pura khandaan pagal hai," (Crazy family. The entire bloodline is crazy,) Kapil sighed dramatically, sinking back into his armchair.
"Aap bohot himmat wale ho, Kapil," (You are very courageous, Kapil,) Siddanth quipped flawlessly, wiping a tear of mirth from his eye.
"Shukriya," (Thank you,) Kapil acknowledged, before picking up a stack of bright pink envelopes from his coffee table.
"Accha Siddanth, ab hum ek naya segment shuru karte hain," (Alright Siddanth, now we start a new segment,) Kapil announced. "Hamein roz hazaron chitthiyan aati hain fans ki taraf se. Lekin aaj, main aapse woh sawaal poochunga jo aapke fans ne directly aapke liye bheje hain. Mere sawaal nahi hain." (We receive thousands of letters every day from fans. But today, I will ask you the questions that your fans have sent directly for you. They are not my questions.)
Siddanth nodded, leaning forward. "Zaroor." (Absolutely.)
Kapil opened the first envelope. "Yeh pehla sawaal bheja hai Rakesh ne, Kanpur se. Rakesh poochte hain: 'Siddanth, jab aap stadium mein chhakka ya chauka maarte hain... toh kya aap sach mein wahan aim karte hain jahan koi khoobsurat ladki baithi hoti hai?'" (This first question is sent by Rakesh, from Kanpur. Rakesh asks: 'Siddanth, when you hit a six or a four in the stadium... do you actually aim specifically where a beautiful girl is sitting?')
The audience erupted into hoots and whistles.
Siddanth grinned, rubbing his chin. "Nahi, Rakesh. Aisa bilkul nahi hai," (No, Rakesh. It is absolutely not like that,) Siddanth replied, keeping a straight face. "Aim ladki par nahi hota, aim ball par hota hai. Kahan maarna hai, yeh bowler ki ball decide karti hai, audience nahi." (The aim is not on the girl, the aim is on the ball. Where to hit it is decided by the bowler's delivery, not the audience.)
"Jhooth bol rahe hain!" (He is lying!) Kapil instigated the crowd, pointing an accusatory finger. "Aise kaise ho sakta hai? Itne bade stadium mein ball wahin jaati hai jahan ladkiyan cheer kar rahi hoti hain!" (How is that possible? In such a massive stadium, the ball always goes exactly where the girls are cheering!)
Siddanth just offered a smile, refusing to incriminate himself further.
Kapil opened the second envelope. "Agla sawaal Sneha ka hai, Pune se. Sneha poochti hain: 'Siddanth, aapko stadium mein bohot saari ladkiyan 'Marry Me' ke placards dikhati hain. Kya aapne kabhi kisi ko wahan se respond kiya hai?'" (The next question is from Sneha, from Pune. Sneha asks: 'Siddanth, a lot of girls show you 'Marry Me' placards in the stadium. Have you ever responded to anyone from the pitch?')
The crowd leaned in, hanging onto his every word.
"Haan, kiya hai," (Yes, I have,) Siddanth admitted casually, leaning back against the couch.
A loud gasp echoed through the studio.
"Jab main naya naya team mein aaya tha, tab ek baar maine respond kiya tha. Ek fan ne placard pakda tha, toh maine unhe flying kiss aur heart banake dikhaya tha dressing room se." (But when I was very new to the team, I responded once. A fan was holding a placard, so I gave her a flying kiss and made a heart shape with my hands from the dressing room.)
Kapil asks. "Bas ek baar?" (Only one time?)
"Eek baar aur maine Hyderabad mein respond kiya tha," (After that, I responded one more time in Hyderabad,) Siddanth smirked, the memory of Krithika glaring at him from the stands flashing in his mind. "Aur uske baad... maine seekh liya ki respond nahi karna chahiye. Ab main sirf wave karta hoon." (And after that... I learned that I shouldn't respond. Now I just wave.)
"Kyun bhai? Aisa kya ho gaya Hyderabad mein?" (Why, brother? What happened in Hyderabad?) Kapil asked, probing for gossip.
"Bas, chot lagne ka darr rehta hai," (Just... there is a fear of getting injured,) Siddanth deadpanned flawlessly, refusing to elaborate on Krithika's wrath.
The audience cracked up, sensing there was a hilarious, untold story behind the cryptic answer.
"Chaliye, chitthiyon ko chhodte hain," (Alright, let's leave the letters,) Kapil said, tossing the envelopes aside. "Aapke dressing room ke kuch raaz kholte hain. Rapid-fire style. Seedha sawaal, seedha jawaab. Taiyaar hain?" (Let's expose some secrets from your dressing room. Rapid-fire style. Straight questions, straight answers. Ready?)
"Poochiye," (Ask,) Siddanth challenged playfully.
"Team India ke dressing room mein, sabse zyada shishe (mirror) ke aage kaun khada rehta hai?" (In the Team India dressing room, who stands in front of the mirror the most?) Kapil fired the first question.
"Virat," Siddanth answered instantly, completely bypassing his usual analytical processing. "Without a doubt. Virat Kohli."
Kapil burst into laughter, slapping his desk. "Pakde gaye, Siddanth! Virat Kohli pichle saal hamaare show par aaye the. Maine unse same sawaal poocha tha, aur unhone bola tha... Siddanth Deva!" (You're caught, Siddanth! Virat Kohli came on our show last year. I asked him the exact same question, and he said... Siddanth Deva!)
"Jhooth bol raha tha woh," (He was lying,) Siddanth laughed, shaking his head. "Kapil paaji, let me explain. First point, main shishe mein dekhta zaroor hoon, par uske jitna nahi. Aur second point... Aapne Virat ki daadhi dekhi hai?" (Kapil paaji, let me explain. First point, I definitely look in the mirror, but not as much as him. And the second point... Have you seen Virat's beard?)
Siddanth leaned forward, holding the audience's attention.
"Uske jo edges cut hote hain, woh bilkul perfect hote hain. Ekdum sharp. Aapko kya lagta hai, woh bina shishe mein dekhe hota hai? Us daadhi ko maintain karne ke liye jo concentration lagti hai na, woh test match ki batting se zyada hai. Ab aap samajh gaye honge main uska naam kyun le raha hoon." (The edges that are cut are absolutely perfect. Very sharp. Do you think that happens without looking in the mirror? The concentration required to maintain that beard is more than what is needed to bat in a Test match. Now you must have understood why I am taking his name.)
The studio roared with laughter at the flawless, logical breakdown of Virat's grooming habits.
"Yeh jawaab solid tha!" (That answer was solid!) Kapil applauded. "Agla sawaal. Team mein sabse bada 'Pheku' (boaster) kaun hai?" (Next question. Who is the biggest 'Pheku' in the team?)
"Ravindra Jadeja," Siddanth answered instantly, not needing a single second to think.
"Phir se!" (Again!) Kapil yelled gleefully. "Virat ne bhi same naam liya tha! Jadeja bhai toh badnaam ho gaye hain!" (Virat also took the exact same name! Jadeja bro has become infamous!)
"Kya Virat ne aapko Jamnagar ki do buildings wali kahani sunayi thi?" (Did Virat tell you the story of the two buildings in Jamnagar?) Siddanth asked, his eyes dancing with mirth.
"Haan! Sunayi thi!" (Yes! He told us!) Kapil nodded eagerly.
Siddanth burst out laughing, remembering the sheer audacity of Jadeja's storytelling in the dressing room. "Toh phir aapko pata hai main use pheku kyun bolta hoon. Us insaan ke paas har cheez ki ek aisi kahani hoti hai jo gravity aur science dono ko galat sabit kar deti hai." (Then you know why I call him a boaster. That man has a story for everything that proves both gravity and science wrong.)
Kapil was about to launch into the next question, but a loud, high-pitched, unmistakably dramatic voice shrieked from the back of the set.
"KAPPUUUU!"
Kapil groaned, slumping back into his chair, rubbing his forehead. "Lo, ab is musibat ko jhelna padega." (Great, now I have to tolerate this disaster.)
The set doors burst open, and Pinky Bua—played by Upasana Singh—strutted onto the stage. She was wearing a violently pink and gold salwar kameez, her makeup heavy, and her expression one of utter, desperate romantic excitement.
She completely ignored Kapil, walking straight past his desk, her eyes locked onto Siddanth like a heat-seeking missile.
"Haye Ram! Kaun hai yeh naujawan?!" (Oh my God! Who is this young man?!) Bua gasped, clutching her chest dramatically. She batted her eyelashes furiously. "Itna lamba, itna handsome, aur itna ameer! Aur yeh is gareebkhane mein kya kar raha hai?" (So tall, so handsome, and so rich! And what is he doing in this poor house?)
Siddanth stood up, offering a polite, slightly terrified smile. "Namaste, Bua ji."
"Namaste nahi, beta! Bua mat bol, mujhe sharam aati hai!" (Not Namaste, son! Don't call me Bua, it makes me feel shy!) Bua giggled, playfully hitting his arm. "Main toh abhi abhi 22 saal ki hui hoon! Aap mujhe Pinky bula sakte hain." (I have just turned 22! You can call me Pinky.)
"Oye Bua!" Kapil shouted, standing up. "Tu 22 saal ki thi jab humare desh ko azaadi mili thi! Ab teri umar utni ho gayi hai ki agar tu mummy ke aage chali jaye toh museum wale tujhe haddi samajh ke display pe laga denge!" (Oye Bua! You were 22 when our country got independence! Now you are so old that if you walk in front of a mummy, the museum people will display you as an ancient bone!)
The audience lost their minds. Siddanth had to cover his mouth to hide his laughter.
"Chup kar, Kappu!" (Shut up, Kappu!) Bua snapped back fiercely at Kapil. She instantly turned a sickeningly sweet smile back to Siddanth. "Aap inki bakwaas par dhyan mat dijiye. Main toh aapke matches dekhti hoon. Aap jab aise daud ke aate hain aur ball phekte hain... haye, meri toh saans hi ruk jaati hai!" (Don't pay attention to his nonsense. I watch your matches. When you run in like that and throw the ball... oh my, my breath just stops!)
"Agar aapki saans ruk gayi toh is desh ka bhala ho jayega!" (If your breath stops, it will be doing this country a massive favor!) Kapil roasted her flawlessly.
Bua stamped her foot in absolute fury. "Kapil, tu meri shadi nahi hone dega! Main tere ghar se jaa rahi hoon! Main apna saaman pack kar rahi hoon!" (Kapil, you won't let me get married! I am leaving your house! I am packing my bags!)
She turned around and began to march angrily toward the exit. But just before she reached the door, she stopped, spun around, and looked directly at Siddanth.
She offered a devastatingly desperate, flirty wink.
"Siddanth, main room number 420 mein rehti hoon," (Siddanth, I stay in room number 420,) Bua whispered loudly, wiggling her eyebrows. "Agar aapko practice ke baad relax karna ho... toh darwaza mat khatkhatana. Bas seedha andar aa jana!" (If you want to relax after your practice... then don't knock on the door. Just come straight inside!)
She blew him a massive flying kiss and sashayed off the stage to the roaring, hysterical laughter of the studio audience.
Siddanth collapsed back onto the couch, wiping his eyes, completely destroyed by the comedic timing of the cast.
Kapil shook his head, offering an apologetic smile to his guest. But the show was far from over, and the audience interaction segment was just about to begin.