Tum Se Hi

It’s the end of an era. No more elegant pull shots, no more lazy charm at the crease, no more Hitman in whites. Rohit Sharma’s Test retirement feels like a quiet sunset — warm, beautiful, and a little heavy on the heart. From debut to captaincy, he gave us memories stitched in patience, power, and poise.

Thank you, Rohit bhai — for making Test cricket feel magical, for every time you made silence roar with a boundary, and for walking away with grace. You’ll be missed in whites, but your legacy is forever.

(Bas virat bhai bhaichara na dikha de ab 😭😭 unke liye ready nahi hu)
______________________________________________________

The lights of Arun jately blazed against the dark sky, painting the night in gold. Fireworks exploded overhead as the crowd roared with the sound of a billion hearts.

India had won. The final. The series. The moment.

But amid the celebration, one moment shimmered brighter than the rest — a tiny figure in a blue jersey, perched on her father’s shoulder, waving with chubby fingers at a sea of fans.

Aira Gill. One year old. The youngest on the field. The most talked about presence of the night.

Shubman had batted like a dream — a clinical 93 off 60, filled with elegant drives and explosive pulls. But the only thing he remembered once the game ended was the way Aira had clapped mid-run, squealing when he crossed his fifty.

Now, as the players shook hands and commentators bustled around for interviews, Shubman jogged toward the family box.

“Woh chhoti madam ko bhejna zara,” he signaled, sweat still glistening on his forehead.

Ritika handed Aira to him carefully. “She’s been yelling ‘papa’ since the last over. Go.”

With her tiny hands gripping his collar and her eyes wide with wonder, Aira was ready for her first walk on the pitch.

The crowd spotted them immediately. A single cheer rose — and turned into a roaring wave.

“Gill! Gill! Aira! Aira!”

Anushka and Vaneesha watched from the box, phones out, eyes moist.

“I can’t believe this,” Vaneesha whispered. “This was his dream. But she... she’s making it magic.”

Shubman adjusted her little cap, then bent down beside Rohit and Virat who were holding their sons.

“Chhoti trophy le aaya hoon,” Shubman joked, Aira now proudly banging his medal against his helmet.

Virat laughed. “Tera medal se zyada usko rattle pasand aaya lagta hai.”

“Bhai, caption dekh: Gill ki sabse badi jeet,” Rohit smirked, showing him an Instagram reel already trending.

They lined up for the team photo. Someone handed Aira a tiny trophy prop for the picture.

Aira didn’t let go.

Not during the picture.
Not after.
Not even when Shubman tried to trade it for a biscuit.

Later, inside the dressing room, Shubman sat on the bench with Aira bundled in a towel, slightly sleepy, still clutching that mini trophy like a lifeline.

“You know, champ,” he whispered, brushing her damp curls back, “this isn’t the real trophy. But you... you’re mine.”

She blinked up at him with sleepy eyes, then leaned forward to place her head on his chest.

Vaneesha captured the moment silently from the doorway. No words. Just a photo. A forever.

Back at the hotel, after the team celebration, when the chaos died down, Shubman pulled out his match jersey — drenched in sweat, dust, and dreams.

He took a silver marker and wrote on the inside collar:
"For Aira. My forever lucky charm. Love, Papa. 2025."

He folded it, placed it in a shadow box alongside her mini jersey from the day, and handed it to Vaneesha.

“This goes in her room,” he said.

Vaneesha hugged him, eyes full. “She may not remember today…”

“But the world will,” Shubman whispered, glancing at his phone where #GillKiPrincess still trended worldwide.

As the city fell asleep, and the glitter of fireworks faded from the sky, one apartment stayed lit a little longer — the one where a tired cricketer hummed lullabies to his baby girl, his Player of the Match medal swinging from the side of her crib.

Because today wasn’t just about India winning the final.

It was about a little girl’s first memory on the field.
A father’s quiet promise fulfilled.
And the moment the world met Aira Gill — the heartbeat behind every run.

_______________________________________________________

Read it? Loved it? Vote & comment!