*London, England — July 2014*
The summer sun over London was mild compared to the furnace-like heat of Dubai, but for Ishaan Verma, the pressure felt heavier than ever. The ICC U-19 World Cup victory had barely cooled, and yet his life had already shifted into another gear. He was no longer just a promising prodigy. He was now India's next big hope—a name whispered in corridors of power, in cricket boardrooms, and more dangerously, across media headlines.
India's U-19 success had opened the floodgates. Interviews. Sponsorship offers. Modelling contracts. Even a cameo offer in a Bollywood film. Ishaan declined them all. Fame wasn't the goal. Greatness was.
But amidst the storm of attention came a single, quiet message. From Coach Muralidharan.
> "Pack your kit. You're flying to England. India A tour. Senior camp. Time to prepare for the future."
Ishaan stared at the message for a long time. Then opened his drawer and pulled out his father's old Titan wristwatch.
It still ticked.
---
### Heathrow Arrival
The flight from Mumbai to London was long, but Ishaan barely slept. He read a book on Don Bradman. Watched videos of Rahul Dravid in England. He even listened to Emma Watson's Oxford speech on repeat. When the plane touched down at Heathrow, his body was tired, but his mind raced like a wicket in a final over.
He was greeted by BCCI liaison officers and driven straight to the team hotel in Kensington. The India A squad had assembled already. Some were known names from domestic cricket. Some were IPL benchwarmers. All were older.
Ishaan, barely seventeen, felt their eyes follow him when he entered the dining area. Some were curious. Some, skeptical.
But one figure stood up.
Riyan Singh.
The boy who had once bowled him with a googly in Azad Maidan. The boy who had smirked at him during junior selections. The boy who now wore the vice-captain's armband.
Riyan walked over, half-smile playing on his lips.
"Well, well. The World Cup hero joins us. Still watching fingers?"
Ishaan grinned. "Only when they try to hide the turn."
Riyan nodded. "Good. Let's see if you can handle English seam now."
---
### Tour Warm-Up Match vs. Surrey XI
The first practice match was against a local Surrey XI side in Guildford. The conditions were classic English: overcast sky, a greenish pitch, and a constant threat of drizzle. Ishaan opened the batting with a tall left-hander from Hyderabad named Nilesh Warrier.
The Surrey bowlers exploited the conditions well. The ball swung. Seamed. Kicked off the length.
Nilesh edged to slip in the third over.
Ishaan remained.
He left with discipline. Played late. Covered the swing. The scoreboard ticked slowly.
24 off 56.
Then 39 off 75.
A flick through midwicket. A punch down the ground.
He reached his fifty in 96 balls.
Slow by modern standards, but Coach Rathore clapped from the dugout.
India A reached 212. They won by 16 runs.
Post-match, Riyan approached him again.
"You remind me of Dravid in that innings. Boring. But solid."
Ishaan shrugged. "Runs don't need drama. They need intent."
---
### First-Class Match vs. England Lions
It was the big one. A four-day unofficial Test against the England Lions in Canterbury.
England batted first. Scored 352.
India A collapsed to 109/5 by lunch on Day 2.
Ishaan walked in at six.
The ball was moving. The slips were chirping.
"Just a boy with pretty shots," one of the fielders muttered.
Ishaan ignored him.
First ball: a leave.
Second: forward defence.
Third: punched through cover. Four.
He batted five hours. Faced 223 balls.
Scored 91.
Missed his century by a mistimed pull.
But the dressing room stood as he walked in.
Coach Rathore patted his back. "You earned their respect today. Not by fireworks. But by survival."
---
### Off the Field
London evenings gave Ishaan rare moments of solitude. He often wandered to Hyde Park, diary in hand.
One evening, while sipping coffee at a small café, he noticed someone familiar.
Emma Watson.
She was seated with a group, laughing softly, papers scattered before her. Activist notes, perhaps.
He didn't approach her.
Didn't want to break the moment.
He just watched for a while.
Later, he wrote in his diary:
*She looked peaceful. Real. Not like a star. Like someone fighting silent wars.*
*One day, I'll sit across from her. Not as a fan. But as an equal.*
---
### The Turning Point
Final match of the tour. A one-day game at The Oval. India A needed 278 to win.
Ishaan was promoted to open.
He started cautiously. But by the 10th over, he found rhythm.
Drive. Cut. Pull. Flick.
He reached 50 in 43 balls.
Then accelerated.
The crowd began chanting his name. English fans clapped too.
When he reached his century, he didn't raise his bat immediately.
He looked up. Then closed his eyes.
*For Dada. Always.*
India won by four wickets.
---
### Return to India
Back home, headlines screamed:
**"Ishaan Verma: The Next Wall of India?"**
**"From U-19 to India A: Verma Impresses in England"**
Coach Muralidharan called him.
"Well done. Stay grounded. Selectors are watching."
Meera greeted him with tears and shrikhand.
Rudra hugged him, lifting him off the floor. "I told you. England was made for your story."
That night, Ishaan opened his diary.
*England tested me. Not just my technique. But my silence, my patience. I passed. Not with centuries alone. But with stillness. With resolve.*
He placed the diary beside his father's old watch.
Both still ticked.