Manashimaya
On a warm Jaipur night that will now live long in cricketing lore, 14-year-old Vaibhav Suryavanshi scripted a story that blurred the lines between prodigy and prophecy. With the swagger of a seasoned international and the freedom of youth, he dismantled Gujarat Titans’ formidable bowling unit—boasting a collective 694 international caps—with a century that left the world dazed and dazzled.
Not since a teenage Sachin Tendulkar tore into Abdul Qadir in Peshawar in 1989 has a cricketing prodigy so fearlessly announced himself. But even Tendulkar was 16. Suryavanshi? Just 14.
Facing the likes of Mohammed Siraj, Ishant Sharma, Rashid Khan, and Prasidh Krishna, Suryavanshi played an innings that seemed born of dreams. He reached his half-century in just 17 balls—the fastest of the season—before launching into an all-out assault that brought up a century in record pace. His final stats? A whirlwind 101 off 38 balls, punctuated by 11 towering sixes and shot-making poetry.
His technique was as audacious as it was elegant. High backlift. Circular swing. Feet planted like oak roots. His bat traced arcs so fluid they seemed choreographed. When he whipped a 91-metre six off Ishant Sharma onto the pink canvas roof at midwicket, the message was clear: this was no fluke.
There were echoes of greatness everywhere. In his swivel-hook against Ishant, in his inside-out loft over covers against Prasidh, and in his final, decisive hit—a long-hop from Rashid Khan brutally dispatched over the leg side. There was something symbolic about finishing his century against Rashid, another child prodigy of the modern game. The baton had been passed.
But amid the carnage, there was also clarity. Here was a child who had lived the daydreams of millions of schoolkids—except he did it in front of thousands under floodlights in the IPL. At an age when most are playing gully cricket and dreaming of big names, Suryavanshi shared the field with them—and bested them.
Still, the precocity raises questions. Is it fair for a 14-year-old to shoulder such pressure? Should cricketing institutions take a longer view of physical and mental demands? These are valid concerns—but for now, let the boy bat.
Because watching him is like witnessing poetry in motion. And on nights like these, when a child stares down giants and wins, the game of cricket feels young again.