Siddanth walked down the paved path toward the enclosed artificial turf nets.
"Good morning, boss," Rahul greeted, wiping a layer of morning dew off the machine's control panel.
"Morning, Rahul. Let's keep it around 135 today. Focus on the seam movement," Deva replied, strapping on his batting pads.
The rhythmic, echoing thwack of leather meeting willow soon filled the quiet estate. Deva batted for an hour, his movements precise and mechanical, maintaining the deep muscle memory that defined his career. Ronnie lay a safe distance away on the damp grass, contentedly chewing on a frayed tennis ball and watching the familiar routine.
Often, the structured training session would dissolve into something much lighter. Rahul's two young sons, aged six and eight, would wander down to the nets, clutching slightly oversized tennis-ball bats.
Deva would immediately shut off the fast bowling machine. He would spend the next thirty minutes bowling gentle, looping underarm deliveries to the boys.
"Watch the ball, don't just swing at the air," Deva instructed gently as the eight-year-old took a massive, wild heave and missed.
"I was trying to hit a six like you did in the World Cup!" the boy defended himself, adjusting his helmet, which was slightly too large and kept slipping over his eyes.
"You have to actually hit the ball first," Deva laughed, tossing the next delivery softly. Ronnie happily appointed himself the official fielder for these sessions, though he rarely surrendered the tennis ball without a prolonged game of tug-of-war.
By the time the sun grew hot, Deva left the nets, his shirt clinging to his back with sweat. After a quick shower, the second phase of his morning began.
Following the breakfast meal, Deva, Krithika, and the twins would embark on their daily perimeter walk around the farmhouse gardens.
At two years old, Rishi and Aadhya were unconcerned with global pandemics. Their universe consisted solely of their parents, their grandparents, and the endless mysteries hidden in the estate's shrubbery.
Aadhya refused to hold anyone's hand. The moment her feet touched the grass, she was off, with Ronnie trotting faithfully at her heels, her unsteady toddler sprint carrying her toward the nearest distraction.
"Aadhya, stay away from the rose bushes. There are thorns," Krithika warned, walking briskly to keep pace with her daughter.
Aadhya paused, looking back at her mother with defiant eyes. She pointed a tiny, accusatory finger at a bright red flower, babbling a long, incomprehensible sentence that clearly translated to her right to touch whatever she wanted.
"I know it's pretty, but it hurts," Deva said, stepping smoothly into her path and redirecting her attention by tapping a nearby tree trunk. "Look. Ants."
Aadhya immediately forgot the roses. She crouched down, her nose inches from the bark, fascinated by the line of tiny black insects marching up the tree. Ronnie padded over, giving the tree trunk a loud, wet sniff that scattered a few of the ants, earning a giggling shove from the toddler.
Rishi, meanwhile, was thirty yards behind them. He walked slowly, his hands clasped behind his back, imitating his grandfather. He stopped every few feet to carefully inspect a fallen leaf or a uniquely shaped pebble, occasionally showing his findings to Ronnie, who responded with a polite wag of his tail.
When a sudden, loud gust of wind rattled the high branches of the mango trees, Rishi stopped. He didn't cry, but he turned around, looking for Deva.
Deva walked back, kneeling in the grass. "Just the wind, buddy."
Rishi nodded seriously, resting his small hand on Deva's knee for a moment of reassurance before returning to his inspection of a smooth, grey stone.
The afternoons belonged to the grandparents and indoor games.
The sprawling living room became a daily battleground. Deva, Krithika, Anjali, and the elders gathered around the coffee table for marathon sessions of UNO, Ludo, and Carrom, while Ronnie sprawled out like a heavy, breathing rug in the center of their circle.
Vikram and Subba Rao treated Carrom with the strategic intensity of a military campaign.
"You are intentionally blocking the queen," Subba Rao accused, adjusting his glasses as he studied the board.
"That is the point of the game," Vikram chuckled, dusting his striker with boric powder. "Defensive play."
UNO, however, was chaos. Anjali was a notoriously aggressive player, hoarding action cards until the last moment.
"Draw four, Bava," Anjali smirked, dropping a black card onto the pile.
Deva didn't even blink. He reached into his hand, pulled out another Draw Four, and dropped it on top of hers. "Draw eight, Krithi."
Krithika glared at her husband. "I am cooking dinner tonight. Remember that before you do this."
"Draw eight," Deva repeated, offering an unbothered smile.
The laughter, the gentle bickering, and the warmth insulated the house. They read books, they watched classic Telugu cinema on the massive OLED screen, and they simply existed together.
But outside the gates, the world was holding its breath.
While the farmhouse remained a sanctuary, the sprawling corporate machinery of NEXUS was operating at maximum capacity to alleviate the crushing pressure on the country.
The crisis had deepened significantly through May. The national lockdown had fractured supply chains, and the healthcare infrastructure in major metropolitan cities was straining under the surging caseloads.
Meanwhile the digital backbone of the country was being quietly supported by the very software ecosystem Deva had insisted on building.
Millions of people were suddenly forced to work from home. While other corporate networks buckled under the unprecedented server loads, the Nexus employee base transitioned seamlessly.
In an apartment in Pune, a Nexus software engineer sat on his sofa in track pants, his company-issued laptop resting on his knees. He was seamlessly participating in a high-definition video conference with thirty other developers spread across the country, utilizing the encrypted enterprise cloud. The audio didn't lag. The video didn't drop.
The foresight that had seemed paranoid in January was now the only thing keeping the company functioning. The logistical workers ensured essential supply deliveries. The digital teams maintained server stability. Nexus was weathering the storm because the parachute had been built long before the jump.
One afternoon, Deva sat in his upstairs office, his laptop angled to capture his relaxed posture.
The screen was divided into a massive grid of faces. Virat Kohli, Rohit Sharma, Shikhar Dhawan, KL Rahul, Bhuvneshwar Kumar, Yuzvendra Chahal, Ravichandran Ashwin, and Ravindra Jadeja were all on the call.
The noise was immediate and overlapping.
"I am telling you, if I eat one more bowl of oats, I am going to lose my mind," Rohit complained loudly, adjusting his phone camera. "My mother-in-law keeps making fresh parathas, and I have to sit there and pretend I enjoy eating boiled chicken."
"Just eat the paratha, Ro. You're not running between the wickets anytime soon," Shikhar laughed, his signature booming chuckle echoing through the speakers. He was sitting on his balcony, looking entirely too energetic. "I've started playing indoor cricket with my son in the hallway. We broke a vase yesterday. My wife is ready to evict me."
"How are the workouts going?" Kohli asked, looking intense even while sitting on his living room sofa drinking green tea. "I've had to change my lifting routine. It's all resistance bands and bodyweight stuff."
"I have a full gym at the farm," Deva offered casually, taking a sip of water.
A collective groan went up from the grid. Right on cue, Ronnie's large head popped into the bottom of the webcam frame, nudging Deva's arm for attention.
"See? Even the dog is tired of your discipline, Sid," Shikhar laughed loudly.
"Of course you have a gym," Rahul sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Sid probably has a fully automated bowling machine running off a nuclear reactor in his basement."
"It runs on diesel, actually," Deva deadpanned, giving Ronnie a scratch behind the ears.
"You guys are complaining about gyms, I'm just trying to figure out what day of the week it is," Chahal interjected, looking bored. "I've watched everything on Netflix. Twice. What are we playing today?"
The team calls frequently devolved into online gaming sessions.
They booted up a digital Ludo lobby.
What should have been a relaxing childhood board game instantly turned vicious.
"Do not cut my token, Ash. I am warning you," Kohli threatened, leaning dangerously close to his webcam.
"It is literally the objective of the game, Virat," Ashwin replied reasonably, clicking his mouse to send Kohli's digital token back to the starting square.
Kohli let out a frustrated shout, throwing his hands in the air.
"Karma," Chahal laughed, rolling the digital dice.
Deva played quietly, engaging in the banter.
Within twenty minutes, Deva smoothly moved his final token into the home square, triggering the victory animation on the screen.
The video call went silent for two seconds.
"You didn't say a word for the last ten minutes," Rohit accused, pointing at the screen. "You just sat there and quietly assassinated all of us."
"You guys invite me to these games," Deva shrugged.
"We didn't know you were going to treat a game of Ludo like a World Cup final," Jadeja laughed, shaking his head. "The man has no chill."
"Next game is FIFA," Chahal demanded. "I am not playing board games with him anymore."
As the days of May continued to roll by, Deva's perspective began to broaden.
He knew the lockdown would eventually end. The virus would eventually be managed through vaccines and treatments. But the world that emerged on the other side of this crisis would not be the same world that existed in 2019. The pandemic was acting as a catalyst for human behavior.
He began to think about the aftermath. Not to profit from it, but to prepare for it.
Sitting in his office, he initiated a secure audio call with Arjun.
"How are the remote productivity metrics looking?" Deva asked, looking at a blank digital notepad on his screen.
"Surprisingly high," Arjun answered, the sound of papers shuffling in the background. "The initial transition was bumpy for a few departments, but the teams have adapted. Veda is handling the cloud loads perfectly. Honestly, Sid, some of our software developers and data analysts are actually reporting that they prefer working this way. No commute, less office noise."
"People adapt," Deva noted. "And they aren't going to want to go back to how things were. When this is over, the concept of a central office is going to permanently fracture."
"You want to expand our enterprise software?" Arjun asked, instantly catching Deva's drift.
"I want to scale it," Deva corrected. "Remote work, secure digital collaboration, virtual meetings with zero latency, encrypted digital signatures. We built it for ourselves. We need to package it for the world. But beyond the corporate sector... look at what's happening to the schools, Arjun."
There was a brief pause on the line.
"The education system is paralyzed," Arjun agreed, his tone turning serious. "Millions of kids are just sitting at home. The wealthy schools are trying to use video calls, but the rural schools have nothing."
"We need to build a supplementary digital education platform," Deva said, his mind rapidly outlining the architecture. "Not something that replaces teachers—you can't replace a classroom. But a robust, low-bandwidth support system. Recorded lessons, compressed data packets that can run on basic smartphones, secure teacher-student communication channels, and digital assignment tracking. Make it accessible."
"I can divert a team from the entertainment division to start wireframing the UI," Arjun suggested.
When the call ended, his mind shifted back to the physical world. He opened his hardware engineering files. He had been working on battery technology for the Nexus EVs months ago.
Now, looking at the suddenly clear skies over major cities due to the lack of vehicular pollution, he realized the transition to electric mobility might accelerate significantly in the post-pandemic economy.
"VEDA," Deva called out softly.
"Yes, sir."
"Pull up the solid-state lithium-ion battery models," Deva instructed, pulling a digital stylus from its dock. "I want to re-run the thermal stability models. Let's see if we can optimize the charging efficiency while reducing the manufacturing cost of the cathode materials. If the global supply chains remain fractured, we need to design components that can be sourced and manufactured domestically."
He began to sketch, his mind moving effortlessly through complex electrochemical equations. He was completely absorbed in the flow state, visualizing the atomic structures of a new battery cell.
Suddenly, the heavy oak door of his office was pushed open.
Deva didn't look up, assuming it was Krithika bringing him coffee.
Instead, a small energetic figure waddled rapidly across the carpet. Aadhya marched to his desk, her bright eyes locking onto the glowing screen of his laptop.
"No, no," Deva said quickly, dropping the stylus and reaching out just as Aadhya attempted to slam her small hands onto the keyboard to see what the colorful battery diagrams did.
He scooped her up, lifting her away from laptop. Aadhya immediately squirmed, pointing a demanding finger at the screen, letting out a frustrated whine.
A moment later, Rishi walked into the office, flanked by a very happy Ronnie. His eyes locked onto a sleek, heavy metal paperweight sitting near the corner. He reached his small hand out, curious about the cold texture of the metal.
"Don't drop that on your toes, buddy," Deva sighed, reaching over with his free hand to slide the paperweight safely to the back of the desk.
Rishi frowned, looking at his empty hand, and then looked up at Deva with a betrayed expression.
Krithika appeared in the doorway a few seconds later, leaning against the frame with her arms crossed, amused by the scene. Her husband was currently trapped in his chair, holding a wriggling Aadhya in one arm while trying to block Rishi from dismantling his desk with the other, all while Ronnie happily licked his elbow.
"I turn my back for two minutes and they stage a prison break," Krithika laughed, walking into the room.
"They are coordinated," Deva agreed. He closed the laptop screen, safely locking away the multi-million-dollar engineering concepts. "Apparently, my workday is over."
"You had a meeting?" Krithika asked playfully, picking Rishi up.
"With two very demanding executives," Deva smiled, standing up and shifting Aadhya onto his hip.
They walked downstairs together, the quiet office left behind.
Later that evening, after the heat of the day had finally broken, Deva and Krithika took a slow walk around the perimeter of the estate gardens.
The twins were inside with their grandparents, giving the couple a rare moment of quiet.
They walked in comfortable silence for a while, holding hands, the gravel crunching softly beneath their shoes, with Ronnie trotting quietly a few paces ahead, occasionally disappearing into the dark silhouette of the mango orchards to investigate a rustling leaf.
"Do you think things will ever return to normal, Sid?" Krithika asked quietly, looking out toward the dark orchards. "Really normal. Like before."
"Some things will," Deva answered, his voice a low, steady rumble in the quiet night. "The restaurants will open again. The stadiums will fill up. People will travel."
He paused, looking up at the stars.
"But some things won't," he continued softly. "People are going to change how they work. How they communicate. The fear of this... the isolation... it's going to leave a mark on a lot of people for a long time. The world is going to be a little more guarded."
Krithika looked at him, squeezing his hand slightly. "Are you worried?"
"Yes," Deva admitted honestly. The admission wasn't a sign of weakness; it was a reflection of his understanding of reality. "But human beings adapt, Krithi. We always have. It's going to be difficult, but we will find a way through it."
They continued walking.
"Anjali was on the phone with Arjun for two hours this afternoon," Krithika mentioned, smoothly shifting the conversation to a lighter topic.
Deva chuckled. "Are they surviving the long-distance lockdown?"
"Barely," Krithika smiled. "She misses him, though she'd never admit it out loud. And I think Arjun is slowly losing his mind sitting in his farmhouse without her chaos to distract him."
The relationship between Anjali and Arjun had settled into a comfortable, accepted reality within the family. Subba Rao and Suma had both given their quiet blessings. Now, they were simply enduring the same separation as millions of other couples across the country, waiting for the borders to open so life could resume.
"They'll be fine," Deva said affectionately. "Arjun is patient."
By midnight, the farmhouse had fallen silent.
The children were fast asleep in the nursery. Krithika was asleep in the master bedroom. The elders had retired for the night.
Deva walked quietly through the darkened hallway. Ronnie padded softly beside him. He paused outside the nursery door, gently pushing it open just an inch. The soft glow of the nightlight illuminated the two cribs. He listened to the steady, rhythmic breathing of his son and daughter for a long moment.
He pulled the door shut, gave Ronnie a gentle pat on the head, and continued down the hall, entering his office. Ronnie did a tight circle on the rug near the door and dropped into a heavy sleep.
The world outside was still uncertain. The news channels were still reporting rising case numbers. The panic had not subsided.
Deva walked over to his desk. He didn't turn on the main overhead lights, preferring the focused ambiance of the desk lamp.
He opened his laptop. The screen flared to life, casting a sharp blue light across his face.
On one side, the heavily encrypted COVID research files. On the other, the complex schematics for advanced solid-state batteries. Minimized in the background were the architectural wireframes for the new digital education platforms, drone logistics networks, and the early theoretical concepts for a clean-energy thorium reactor.
"VEDA," Deva said softly into the quiet room.
"Online, sir," the AI responded smoothly.
"Give me the late-May progression report on the institutional COVID research," Deva instructed.
"The public scientific community is demonstrating significant acceleration," VEDA reported, bringing up a clean, aggregated timeline on the left monitor. "The structural data we subtly introduced into has been fully adopted by several leading research nodes. Two prominent vaccine candidates have effectively stabilized their lipid delivery mechanisms and are preparing for expanded Phase II human trials. Early therapeutic compounds are showing improved binding affinities in in-vitro testing."
The scientists were catching up.