The mid 50s were interesting times. Alliances were formed and broken, and formed again. A nation found its identity and struggled with it. So did its people. Who defines these identities anyway? Royals? Devadasis? Friends or lovers? Masters and servants? If Abhimanyu worked out a deal to become the chief selector of the Indian national team, was it because or despite of his politically savvy sister, Avantika? A failed politician, a has-been cricketing talent won a seat on the national stage – did that make him a success or a failure? Abhimanyu had lost a kingdom, as well as an eye, but he still won a chance to steer the future of his beloved sport, make it as democratic as he possibly could and as equal as he’d hoped for it to be. If he ever doubted his ability to take Indian cricket to the heights he had dared to dream of, history would clearly let him know that he was a winner all the way.

It didn’t take long for Abhimanyu to make his mark. His selection skills were proven within months as the Indian side vanquished travelling teams with ease. Off the field, his almost-encyclopedic knowledge of the game coupled with his newfound people skills ensured that he was promoted to team manager for the national side. Abhimanyu was able to bring a professional perspective that was lacking in the Indian outfit. Gone was the lackadaisical, princely attitude of the team – cricket had become a competitive sport where one had to perform to keep their place in the team. He was a changed man – a far cry from the early days when he wasn’t sure of himself, or the dark period when he spent aimless nights looking for solace at the bottom of a bottle.