Overpowered Cricket system

The Republic TV studio was electric with tension, the set glowing under the harsh glare of lights as Arnab Goswami prepared to launch into what he had hyped as "the debate of the century." On screen, the words blared in bold red and white:

"NITISH REDDY: HERO OR TRAITOR?"

The panel was a mix of explosive personalities: cricket legends, social media influencers, journalists, and, most controversially, Ayesha—the woman who had nearly destroyed Nitish's life with false allegations and had since rebranded herself as a media darling.

Arnab's voice thundered across the studio as he introduced the evening's topic. "Ladies and gentlemen, tonight we dive into the issue tearing this nation apart. Nitish Reddy, once the pride of Indian cricket, abandoned his team, his fans, and his country. Was he justified, or is he the ultimate betrayer? Joining me are those who dare to take a stand on this explosive question!"

The screen divided into multiple boxes, each filled with an eager face.

"Let's begin," Arnab declared, his voice filled with a mix of authority and glee. "Mr. Ajay Kumar, you're a former cricketer. You've played at the highest level. Do you think Nitish betrayed India?"

Ajay leaned forward, his face set in a grim expression. "Arnab, cricket is not just a game in India—it's a religion. The players are its gods. And when one of those gods decides to leave his team in the lurch, it's nothing short of betrayal. Nitish had a duty to his fans, to his teammates. Walking away was cowardly, no matter what his personal reasons were."

Before Arnab could respond, another panelist—a younger journalist named Priya—interjected, her tone sharp. "Cowardly? Really, Mr. Kumar? Let's talk about what Nitish went through before he made that decision. False accusations, public humiliation, the death of his parents due to relentless harassment. If anything, the real betrayal came from this country and its people!"

Ajay's face darkened. "So you're saying it's okay to abandon your country because life got hard? Every cricketer faces pressure. That's part of the job!"

"Pressure?" Priya shot back, her voice rising. "Pressure is playing under the weight of expectations. What Nitish faced was a witch hunt! He was crucified by the media, by fans, by people like you who didn't even bother to hear his side of the story!"

Arnab cut in, his voice booming. "One moment! One moment! Let's not forget, Priya, that Nitish chose to play for Ireland. Ireland! How does that sit with you?"

Priya glared at him. "It sits fine with me, Arnab, because Nitish deserved a fresh start. He didn't owe this country anything after what it did to him."

As the debate heated up, Ayesha finally spoke, her voice calm and measured, cutting through the chaos. "Arnab, may I say something?"

All eyes turned to her. Some panelists tensed visibly, while others smirked, anticipating drama.

"I think we're missing the bigger picture here," Ayesha began. "Nitish's decision wasn't just about cricket. It was about survival. Yes, he left India. Yes, it hurt. But let's not pretend we didn't drive him to that point. I take responsibility for my role in what happened to him, but this nation—"

"Stop right there!" Ajay exploded, pointing a finger at her. "You don't get to play the victim here, Ayesha. You're the reason he went through hell in the first place!"

Ayesha's calm demeanor faltered slightly, her lips tightening. "I've already admitted my mistakes, Mr. Kumar. I'm not here to rehash the past."

"But you're here to profit from it, aren't you?" Ajay sneered. "Your podcast, your newfound fame—it's all built on the ruins of his life!"

"That's enough!" Priya snapped. "We're here to discuss Nitish, not throw stones at Ayesha."

Ayesha, visibly rattled but refusing to back down, continued. "As I was saying, Nitish made a choice, and whether we agree with it or not, we need to respect it. What he went through… no one deserves that."

Arnab, sensing the tension peaking, turned to another panelist, a fiery social media influencer named Raj. "Raj, what do you think? Is Nitish a traitor, or do you agree with Ayesha?"

Raj smirked, leaning back in his chair. "Arnab, let's not sugarcoat it. Nitish Reddy is a quitter. Plain and simple. He couldn't handle the heat, so he ran. And now we're supposed to feel sorry for him? Please."

Priya, now visibly fuming, rounded on him. "Ran? He didn't run! He was driven out! There's a difference, Raj, and you'd know that if you had even an ounce of empathy!"

Raj laughed mockingly. "Empathy? For a guy who abandoned his team? Sorry, Priya, but loyalty matters. You don't just pack up and leave because things get tough."

The argument escalated, voices overlapping as panelists shouted over one another. Arnab's booming voice cut through the chaos like a whip.

"Order! Order! Let's hear from someone who hasn't spoken yet. Mr. Singh, as a former coach, do you think Nitish's absence in the Champions Trophy cost India the tournament?"

The coach, a grizzled veteran with decades of experience, sighed heavily. "Arnab, there's no denying that Nitish is one of the finest all-rounders India has ever produced. His absence was felt, especially in the middle order and the death overs. But let's not make this about one man. The team failed as a unit."

Ajay cut in, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Convenient, isn't it? Blame the team, not the guy who abandoned them."

Priya rolled her eyes. "Oh, here we go again. Nitish didn't abandon anyone! He was pushed out by people like you who couldn't see past your own egos!"

Arnab, sensing the debate spiraling out of control, turned to Ayesha once more. "Ayesha, let's get personal. Do you think Nitish regrets leaving India?"

Ayesha hesitated, her carefully curated facade cracking slightly. "I don't know what he feels, Arnab. But if he does regret it, I wouldn't blame him. He loved this country. He loved cricket. Walking away must have been the hardest decision of his life."

"And do you regret what you did to him?" Raj asked bluntly, his tone accusatory.

Ayesha's composure faltered. Her eyes glistened, and she took a deep breath before responding. "Every day," she said softly. "Every single day."

The admission silenced the room for a moment, but the tension was still palpable. Arnab, ever the provocateur, seized the moment.

"Ladies and gentlemen, we've heard the arguments. We've seen the passion. But the question remains: Is Nitish Reddy a hero who survived unimaginable odds, or is he a traitor who turned his back on his nation? The nation wants to know!"

As the credits rolled and the panelists continued to argue, the debate spilled into living rooms across the country. Social media lit up with hashtags, and the public remained as divided as ever.

Somewhere, far from the noise and chaos, Nitish sat alone, watching the debate on a small screen. His face was expressionless, but his eyes betrayed a deep sadness. He switched off the TV and leaned back in his chair, staring at the ceiling.

"Hero or traitor," he murmured to himself, the words bitter on his tongue. "Does it even matter anymore?"

The world continued to argue about him, but Nitish had long since stopped caring. For him, the fight was no longer about proving himself to others. It was about finding peace in a world that refused to let him be.