‘Seven years since Independence, and this still looks like a game of kings and princes. Hell, the BCCI emblem itself is borrowed from the British’s Most Exalted Order of the Star of India.’

‘Now I didn’t know that!’

‘A nation of millions can spit out only a handful of royals to play at the highest level,’ said Abhimanyu.

‘They had an early start, I guess.’

‘You’ve played with the street fighters, Ranjit, I don’t need to sell you this notion that we have better players.’

Ranjit Singh let out a laugh.

‘The prince of Ranakpour has decided to fight for the free people. What a day!’

‘I’ll have you know that it’s based on statistics rather than altruism,’ said Abhimanyu with a smile. He went on to give an eerily accurate description of the domestic scene – the number of new players every year, individual performances, bowling and batting averages stacked up over the percentage of erstwhile royals in the game versus the true locals, ground-up players that were coming into the arena etc. He had pored over those numerous editions of papers lying in his room and gained enough knowledge to back up his claims just by looking at the numbers.

‘See for yourself,’ he said, pulling out his black diary with pages and pages of neat statistics. ‘I am not coming after you, by the way. Lucky you,’ he said, sifting through the pages and tapping his finger on the column that had Ranjit Singh’s name.

Ranjit couldn’t believe what he saw. His whole career, including the obscure club games he’d played, totaling over 200 matches were laid out in neat columns – a snapshot of his career so far. Based on his analysis, Abhimanyu had concluded that only four players on the national team were worthy to be in the team. The rest were either way under par or too inconsistent to be regular fixtures. On another page, he had a list of prospects – some names Ranjit Singh hadn’t even heard of – who were better, at least on paper, than the guys on the team. Ranjit Singh spent a good ten minutes going through the diary, shaking his head and guffawing. He snapped it close and pushed it towards Abhimanyu.

‘So, what’s the plan?’

Abhimanyu knew cricket had always been a sport for the moneyed and priviledged. The gentlemen’s game was introduced to the subcontinent by the British sailors, then passed on to the Indian Army, and then picked up by the well-off Parsis. Soon, its following grew in other communities, but only among those who could afford to take the game seriously enough to form their own clubs. Businessmen, royals and friends of the ruling Brits were happy playing in their bubbles.