The losing streak of India, contrary to popular belief, didn't start under Virat Kohli's captainship. It started way back in 2012, when the great Virendra Sehwag, Gautam Gambhir, Yuvraj Singh, Suresh Raina were still in the team. It started in the 2012 T-20 worldcup, when India couldn't even qualify for the knock out stages.

Bad luck maybe, but this badluck continued for India with CT-13 being the only exception.

They lost in semi-finals in 2015 world cup again.

They lost in semi-finals in 2016, T-20 world cup again. The two glaring no balls and a dream shattered on the brink of success again.

The 2017 CT-2017 Finals, another no ball and India's innings came to a nightmarish end.

The 2019 CWC, another feather joining in the streak of the loses. 15-20 minutes bad play, and the dream shattered again.

So, yeah another lose added in India's glorious records of losing matches. The U-19 team and even the woman cricket them, facing similar situations.

They were losing in finals or semi-finals and the backlash, the hate, the anger came pouring towards a certain being. The backlash, the hatred, the criticism for the loses, everything was directed to the current Captain.

People made it seem like everything was his fault.

No, he did not just receive the criticism for losing the men Worldcups but the criticism of women and U-19 team losing in finals,was also added on the shoulder of one Virat Kohli.

People were certain, he was the main reason of their loses. He was badluck and he shouldn't have wished anyone "all the best,". He shouldn't have tried to encourage those teams.

A petition requesting Govt. to ban Virat Kohli from wishing or supporting anyone went viral due to this thinking, and surprising many people had signed the petition.

"Cheeku," the famous nickname of Virat Kohli. Nowadays, kinda got buried under the other nicknames of him like,
"choker,"

"Panauti,"

"Badluck,"

Everytime he failed, those words resurfaced.

Everytime the teams he supported lost, those words surfaced.

Everytime something went wrong those words surfaced.

Again and again.

And Virat Kohli broke a little every time, a sphere of darkness surrounded him every time he heard such stuff, doubts and insecurities surfaced and resurfaced and it all hurt.

It all hurt, very much.

It all hurt like a bullied victim convincing themselves, something is really wrong with them. It felt like a cheated person, convincing themselves, they were at fault somehow.

It hurt like shouldering and burdening one's shoulders with undeserved guilt, the worst kind of guilt and Virat had been doing just that for the last few years. Everything that went wrong, every unfortunate turn of events and Virat blamed just himself and surrounded himself with a little darkness, everyday.

Currently the darkness was coursing through his veins like venom, burning his soul and frazzling his nerves. The alpha brain waves of Virat's mind was rapidly decreasing and beta waves rising. The theta brain waves were oscillating though and Virat was a child. A child in silver coat-pant, dancing with the servants laughing and having the time of his life.

He was in the center dancing with people easily towering over him.But little Virat wasn't scared or wary of these people, he was happy, happy because someone was at least dancing with him. But suddenly, the other grownups around him started laughing at them. They were pointing at him, speaking snidely and laughing.

Firstly, Virat felt very angry, embarrassed and indignant, childish fury coursed through his veins and he shouted at all the faceless people around him, demanding the reason of their spiteful laughter and words. Virat shouted and demanded and the people around him kept on laughing.

And Virat's anger slowly turned into pain and fear. He was feeling scared, why were everyone laughing at him? What's wrong with him? He didn't know anyone of them. What did he do? He still questioned the people around him, demanding answers but it was for nought.

They didn't answer, they kept on laughing and now, Virat was scared and really hurt.

His eyes darted around the room frequently, fearfully, searching for that just one person. The single person not making fun of him, his little hurt heavy heart searching source of his warmth. He was hurt and he wanted that just one person, one person to hold him and tell him, "It's alright. I got you."

But no such person was around him. The mass of faceless people were closing in, still being, all rude and hurtful, laughing at him. Virat was so hurt, tears streaming down his face, the anger had gone and all that remained was hurt, uncertainity and insecurity.

"MA!!! PAPA!!!!" Virat shouted panicking, where were his parents, he needed them.

Why were people laughing at him?

"MA! PAPA! HELP!" He screamed, terrified and frozen on his spot. The mass of darkness all ready to envelop him, along with the chilly heart freezing cold and negativity.

Virat squeezed his eyes shut instinctively, still crying for his parents and suddenly, it wasn't cold anymore. He was all warm and safe and he didn't want to open his eyes, not at all. What if this lovely warmth disappear when he opens his eyes? What if those bad people still be there when he opens his eyes? What if all this is just an illusion and opening his eyes will shatter it?

"Cheeku! Mere bacche," but the voice, than voice broke Virat's all restraints, wide chocolaty eyes starring unblinking at the unmistakable face of his father.

"Papa" Virat mumbled first, eyes wide and full of disbelief, "Papa," He yelled super excited throwing his arms around his father's neck, hugging him like their is no tomorrow. His father laughed softly hugging him, his chest vibrating with mirth and warmth of the laugh. Virat always loved it when his father laughed hugging him, he loved feeling the warmth love filled vibration emitting out of him.

"Who's there for you, beta?" his father asked him with a sad frown, and Virat couldn't help but look at him with wide confused eyes.

What did his father mean by this? The answer materialized in front of him in the form of an angry Ro, Jassi, Harry, and Sky.

"I didn't know you could stoop so low Virat,"Ro hurled hatefully and Virat couldn't help but be totally baffled by his besties tone.

"I don't think, you'll be like this Virat. I am ashamed calling you bhai,"Harry yelled spitting venom and Virat could't help reel back in his father, for support.

"I hate you, Virat bhaiya, you did so wrong. You're evil. You hurt Rohit bhaiyaa, so much," Jassi said looking at him with disgust.

Jassi's words cut deeper than any physical attack could ever. It hurt. Virat didn't think Jassi's yells would have hurt as much as that silent statement did.

"All for your ego...it's all because of you, every loss, every defeat, it's because of you,"Sky's eyes spit fire and Virat leaned more and more in his father.

"All because of your desire to be skipper,"

"I didn't know you'll stoop so low to maintain your position as skipper,"

"You won't ever be our bhaiya again. Just skipper, stay with the title only,"

"We hate you!!!"

"You're evil and badluck,"

"Not our skipper, never our bhaiya again,"

They continued chanting and hurling at his direction and Virat continued leaning more and more in his father, his eyes begging his father to tell them to stop, tell them he was innocent as much as he was begging his father to tell him the same. Virat wanted his father to tell him, he wasn't wrong. He didn't do anything wrong. It wasn't his fault but his father just stood beside him like a silent supporting shadow.

It didn't matter much to Virat though, he wanted someone, just one person to reassure him, to curb his own demons but it didn't came.

Virat clung on his father begging him for a single supportive word. A word that never came and Virat felt himself falling and falling in a dark abyss.

"Who's there for you Virat?" His father's words along with the hateful chants echoing behind him like a song. Virat's blank eyes gazing at his father answer less. He was falling slowly in the dark abyss, an abyss where the words of Ro, AB, Mahi bhai will never reach him.

Virat was falling and withering.

The cold finally totally seeping in and his silent screams never escaping the prison of his mind.

Virat woke up gasping for air, sweat-beads lining his forehead. His eyes taking in the dark, gloomy atmosphere of his quarantine room. He hadn't walked out of that door yet, his eyes still locked on the door lingeringly.

Did anyone hear him scream?

Will anyone come and check on him?

No, one came and Virat sunk in the bed, heart palpating, waves after waves of uncertainty and fear washing over him. It all felt so real and it felt like losing his father once again. He was there, just there, he hugged him and it felt like childhood days again.

And now, the clouds of despair was over him again. The rain knocking outside his window not helping the matters at all. After that day, that semi-final day, rain had quite become synonymous of heartbreak for Virat. It was a trigger. A trigger, he could do nothing to avoid it.

Rain, reminded him of washed away dreams. It reminded him of the shattered shards of the dreams piercing his skin and aggravating emotions seeping out of the imaginary shards on his body like crimson blood falling out like a fountain. It filled him with unease and set his heart on the ferry ride of panic.

The unforgotten nightmare.

He could feel the small intangible vacuum spreading in his heart, the black hole sucking in all emotions beside panic. He could feel his breaths falling short. He could feel the buzzing of despair in his ear. He could feel himself being sucked in the grounds of despair and million hopeless eyes glaring at him, blaming him. The blinding flashes and glaring question, corroding and pouring acid on the freshly cut pieces of his heart.

Virat couldn't breath.

He was feeling light headed like someone had wrapped a plastic bag around his head and cut the supply of his oxygen.

He couldn't breathe. Everyone is glaring. It's all his fault.

"Breathe in and out,"

"In and out"

"slowly,"

A part of his mind screamed but how to breath Virat didn't know? How to breath? He had never learned how to breath. His phone was buzzing again. Virat concentrated on the vibration of his phone, letting the odd buzzing ground him to reality, shaky hands held the buzzing device.

Blank gaze unlocking the device and checking the incoming message.

It was a boomerang of two over-excited kids grinning at him making crazy, stupid expressions, shouting "LUB U BHAIUUU, SEE YOU SOON,"

"LIKE TOMORROW SOON,"

Virat couldn't help but keep on starring at that some second long boomerang for hours.

The joy reflecting through it, so opposite to the black hole in his heart.

Yes, Virat Kohli was broken. He was depressed. He might have acquired PTSD of losing but he was never going to show it.

Depressed people don't scream they're depressed. They don't show they're broken and hurting. They put a brave front, they make themselves the prisoner of their darkness but they don't let anyone see that, they smile, they laugh, they care and they cry alone.

Virat was just like that, he couldn't let his emotions show.

He couldn't cry.

He couldn't.

For who'll look after others if he let his brokeness show?

Virat couldn't let them know he was broken and hurting. He couldn't let them know, he needed a hand to pull him out of his hole of despair. He needed someone to tell him, he wasn't bad. He needed a cup to prove himself, to reassure himself that he wasn't what people called him. He needed to reassure himself, he wasn't badluck, he wasn't panauti.

The world cup losing streak wasn't because of him.

He just needed someone to hold him and tell him, "IT wasn't your fault. Nothing is wrong with you,"

He needed someone to support him. He needed someone to stand by him publicly.

But no one was there and he was feeling so lonely, so alone, so broken and so insecure.

He was questioning his own worth and silently hurting.

He was feeling like a bad omen.

He was hurting and he couldn't show it.

"For who's there for you?" Virat couldn't chase away that line from his mind, quite like, he couldn't chase away depression and panic attacks from his soul.

~To be continued~

Okay, so yeah, bad mental space is real and we cry at midnight remembering year old incidences.