Of course the first Test against England had to be in Delhi.

Delhi never used to be a very special place for most of Shubman's life. Three years ago, it had become one of the most, especially the airport and a coffee stall just outside the exit gates, which had to be inevitably crossed if you wanted to get into the city.

Shubman dreaded landing hours before he was to land. He couldn't avoid the airport but he certainly could avoid looking at the coffee stall. But when he did get to the exit gates, his ego kicked into play and told him, How can looking at a stupid coffee stall hurt ME?

He glared at it pointedly when he passed it.

It turned out a stupid coffee stall could hurt him, unbearably.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Shubman's first Test series as captain was not a disaster, but it might as well have been from the way his mind reacted to it.

He couldn't sleep before any of the matchdays which meant during the first Test, he went five days...well, four, because they won in four days....with barely any sleep.

Every wrong review he took, every wrong field placement he set, every doubt about the team selection plagued him ceaselessly the moment he stepped off the field after the third session. On the field and even during lunch and tea breaks, he overthought of nothing. 

But that was just nine hours per day. 

Nine and half, because the over rate was slow.

Why was the over rate slow? 

Why did I set four slips and no backward third?

Why did I let Bishnoi convince me into the review when Rishabh told me it was too high?

As far as his own batting and fielding was concerned, there weren't too many concerns. None, if you were honest. A huge century in the first innings. Staying not out till the victory in the second innings.

Even when the Feroz Shah Kotla crowd gave him a standing ovation after his 150, Shubman didn't feel like taking his customary bow. And he only did things he wanted to. So he didn't celebrate any of his milestones.

After his 50 in the second innings, Rahul bhai who was batting with him asked, "Why are you, um, refraining from even raising your bat?"

"Because I don't want to," Shubman said.

Rahul bhai gave him a hug and a comforting pat on the back. Shubman was glad he didn't ask anything more on the field. Or off the field. He didn't want to talk about it and he only did things he wanted to.

Fielding on the boundary in India meant a lot more slurs than he had heard in Australia. What made it much worse was that this time they didn't call him names as much as speculate in yells why Ishan Kishan was missing from the squad.

"YOU DUMP THE CAPTAIN, YOU ARE OUT OF THE SQUAD."

"YOU ARE DUMPED BY THE CAPTAIN, YOU ARE OUT OF THE SQUAD."

Some of the taunts were a lot more vulgar. But now they were all related to rifts and break ups and were so much more difficult to ignore than the name-calling in Australia and the crowd chanting Sara's name when he fielded after she'd turned him down, and at one point Shubman seriously considered following Virat bhai's footsteps and giving them the finger.

Virat bhai was twenty three, he reminded himself in time. I am twenty eight.

But God, he had never sympathized more with that action of Virat bhai's.

And he persisted in fielding on the boundary, never missing saving or catching.

It even surprised him sometimes....Nothing could affect him when he was on the field. Affect him enough to affect his game, that is.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The second Test started the same way. There had been only a three day gap in between, during which Shubman may have got five hours' sleep each, but they were always riddled with waking up and reaching out to feel Ishan sleeping beside him, which obviously he would not be, which would upset Shubman so much he'd need another hour to coax himself back to sleep.

 Once the game began, his extra-hard overthinking started, particularly the day he took two wrong reviews, and sleep went out of the window again.

Shubman had never realized how insufficient he was to deal with his own head.

That would be because he had never really dealt with it on his own. Ten years he'd been irrevocably emotionally dependent on Ishan and now he simply didn't know where to turn.

It was like he needed Ishan at every step he took. But Ishan was not here. Possibly he never would.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

They won the second Test on a canter.

But there were always decisions to be debated and questioned, particularly those of the captain, and Shubman found he had to defend himself all the time in press conferences now. He couldn't say 'I trusted my process' and 'I felt like I was timing the ball well and knew the runs would come eventually' and get away with it.

As captain, he actually had to explain his decisions.

How had Virat bhai, Rohit bhai and Rahul bhai dealt with this?

A week and scores of press conferences later, the eve of the third Test approached. By now Shubman felt his head was exploding. It seriously might explode anyday.

Rahul bhai and Jassi bhai tried to talk to him. His sister called. Nisha called. Virat bhai called.

He could only give them wooden conversations.

Because he could think of only one person. Day in, day out, every time his head exploded, he knew there was only one person in the world who could make it stop exploding, and moreover he would need maybe two minutes to do it.

And he would know how to do it.

He always, always knew.

Shubman had promised himself he wouldn't give in to the urge of texting Ishan when he returned from that fruitless wait.

Screw the promise.

Where the hell was his phone when he needed it?

Well, right on the table where he usually kept it, why did it take him so long to find it?

"I really need you, Ishu."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He lay on his side and gazed into the phone screen. But the message wasn't delivered. 

Had Ishan blocked him? 

But why would he block him? 

He hadn't done anything wrong....Or had he? Was Ishan still mad because he had flown to his place without telling him? Or was it the bigger picture?

Did Ishu think it was his fault?

A dull throbbing had started somewhere around Shubman's temple when he had gazed at the phone and held back tears by gritting his teeth for some three hours.

Tomorrow, there was the third Test. He would prefer not to play with a headache.

Though he was pretty confident by now...he wouldn't play any extra bad even if he did have a headache born from these stupid, non-cricket things.

Cricket was the only thing he had. Would always have. Even after he stopped playing professionally, he could open his own academy as he had been planning for years now....open it alone, now...and he could live with cricket all his life.

It didn't seem a bad prospect.

Cricket and I.

Shubman tossed his phone away and laughed. He didn't know what he was laughing at. Possibly at himself.

It was funny to realize how much more he'd imagined Ishan to love him than he actually must have. It was okay to choose his parents over him but being unable to squeeze out even a little bit of time to talk once a day?

If Shubman had known Ishan at all, Ishan wouldn't have done it.

The Ishan he knew would never have done it. Or the Ishan he thought he knew.