The Googly of Fate||ICT IMAGINE||

Written in the Stars

For- aditri22

Aditri, the boss of Spring Fest marketing at IIT Delhi, was having a blast. Lights twinkled, a balloon wanted to fly away, and a speaker sounded like a broken toy. But in all this craziness, a new problem was about to happen.

Riya, Aditri's best friend and partner-in-crime for all things festive, burst in, panic etched on her face. "Aditri! Big mess! HUGE mess!" she shrieked, momentarily drowning out the booming rap performance on the main stage.

"Woah, woah, breathe, Riya," Aditri pleaded, yanking a wayward streamer free from a spotlight. "Spill it!"

"Natasha, the one supposed to interview the celebrity guest for the talk show? Family emergency! Poof! Gone! And guess what? Nobody else wants to do it!"

Aditri felt a familiar knot of responsibility tighten in her stomach. The guest of honor wasn't just any celeb; it was Ishan Kishan, the cricket rockstar who held the record for the fastest fifty in an ODI match. A collective groan from the cricket-crazy crowd seemed to vibrate through the college walls.

"We can't cancel, Riya! The crowd will lynch us!" Aditri declared, a hint of panic creeping into her voice.

"Then...?" Riya trailed off, her eyes locking on Aditri.

Before the voice of reason could squeak a protest, Aditri blurted, "I'll do it!" A tiny, bookish part of her, the one who preferred libraries to stadiums, whimpered in fear. But responsibility roared louder.

With a deep breath and a silent plea to the public speaking gods, Aditri grabbed the interview script Riya shoved into her hand and marched backstage. The air crackled with anticipation, bustling with nervous organizers.

"You must be Aditri," a fit, friendly-looking man greeted her. "Ishan Kishan."

Aditri's breath hitched. There he was, the six-hitting legend, standing right in front of her. She plastered on a smile, hoping it wasn't a grimace.

"Mr. Kishan, a pleasure," she said, voice surprisingly steady. "Showtime?"

They walked onto the brightly lit stage, greeted by a deafening roar. Aditri gripped the microphone like a lifeline, her knuckles turning white. Script in hand, she navigated the pre-written questions about Ishan's journey, his heroes, and the upcoming season. Ishan, sensing her nervousness, was a gracious guest, elaborating with funny stories that had the audience in stitches.

But then came the first hurdle. "So, Mr. Kishan," Aditri read, stumbling slightly over the unfamiliar words, "what's your strategy for those tricky yorker deliveries from the fast bowlers?"

Ishan winked at the crowd. "Ah, the yorker! A real pain! You see, Aditri," he said playfully, "it's all about..."

The next few seconds were a blur. Words like "crease," "swing," and "seam" flew over Aditri's head, as foreign as ancient Greek. She plastered on a smile, nodding enthusiastically at random points, hoping no one noticed the emptiness in her eyes.

"So, basically, good footwork and knowing what's coming, right?" she finished weakly, praying the question made some sense.

Thankfully, the audience seemed more invested in Ishan's animated explanation than dissecting Aditri's lack of cricket knowledge. The interview continued, a tightrope walks between scripted questions and Aditri's desperate attempts to act like she knew what she was talking about. There were a few more close calls – discussions about power hitting and captaincy – but somehow, Aditri fumbled through.

Finally, with a dramatic flourish, she declared the interview over. Relief washed over her like a tidal wave...

*****