second Innings

The state team selectors' room was a shrine to cricket history. Photos of legendary players lined the walls, their eyes seemingly following me as I sat before the panel. Among them was a young Rahul Dravid, and I couldn't help but smile at the cosmic irony â€" the same man who'd just helped set this meeting in motion.

"Your numbers are exceptional," the head selector began, shuffling through my performance sheets. "But what interests us more is your approach to the game. Coach Kulkarni says you're bringing something new to the table."

I shifted in my chair, conscious of every word. "I believe cricket is evolving. The fundamentals remain crucial, but there's room for innovation."

"Innovation can be risky," another selector interjected. "Especially at higher levels."

"So is standing still while the game moves forward," I countered, then caught myself. Was I being too forward? But the head selector was nodding thoughtfully.

"That's precisely why we're here. Indian cricket needs fresh perspectives. The international game is changing â€" T20 is gaining momentum, field restrictions are evolving. We need players who can adapt."

My heart skipped a beat at the mention of T20. In 2004, the format was barely on anyone's radar. The first T20 World Cup was still three years away. Had I accidentally let something slip during training sessions about the format's future dominance?

"The state team has a camp starting next week," the head selector continued. "We'd like you there. It's unusual to fast-track someone with your limited experience, but sometimes conventional paths need to be reconsidered."

That evening, at the junior training program, Dravid noticed my distraction. "Big news?" he asked as we packed up the equipment.

"State camp invitation," I replied. "It feels... premature."

He shook his head. "You know what your problem is? You play like someone with years of experience but doubt yourself like a newcomer. Trust what you know."

If only he understood the full weight of those words. I did have years of experience â€" years that hadn't happened yet. Every shot I played, every piece of advice I gave, was informed by decades of cricket evolution I'd witnessed firsthand.

Later that night, I wrote in my diary:

"The timeline is accelerating. In my original history, I never made it to state level this young. Every decision now feels magnified â€" am I creating dangerous ripples in the timestream, or was this possibility always there, waiting to be unlocked?

The selectors mentioned T20 cricket. The format that will revolutionize the game is still in its infancy here, but they can sense the winds of change. Should I lean into that knowledge? Help prepare Indian cricket for what's coming? Or would that be too much interference?

Dravid told me to trust what I know. But what I know is a future that might not exist anymore. Every day here feels like batting on a pitch where the bounce keeps changing. You think you've read it correctly, then the ball does something completely unexpected.

State camp starts Monday. Another step into the unknown. Another chance to shape the future â€" or perhaps restore it to its original path. The distinction grows blurrier every day.

One thing's becoming clear though: I'm not just here to play cricket. I'm here to bridge two eras of the game. The question is: which era will end up influencing the other more?"

I closed the diary and looked at my cricket kit in the corner. Inside was a bat that wouldn't be designed for another fifteen years â€" a small anachronism I'd brought with me. Its edges were thicker than anything available in 2004, its sweet spot positioned for the modern game.

Tomorrow, I'd have to switch to a contemporary bat. The future could influence the past, but some changes would raise too many questions. As I packed my bag for the state camp, I wondered how many other aspects of my game I'd need to dial back, to make my "innovations" seem less like prophecy and more like natural evolution.

The game was changing, with or without my intervention. My job was to guide that change without breaking the fundamental laws â€" of cricket, and of time itself.