In Bhopal, during the off-season, Priyansh Arya wakes at six. Around him, seventy other cricketers do the same. Nobody carries phones. Nobody knows his IPL contract. He is one boy among many, nothing more.
Sanjay Bharadwaj, who has coached him since he was nine, built the camp this way deliberately. Sessions run twelve hours — six in the morning to six at night, one hour’s break. Fitness, skill, repetition. Before training starts, Arya chants the Gayatri Mantra. Then Bhramari pranayama — controlled, deliberate.
“When you perform in IPL, the stardom comes quickly and it is not easy for youngsters to handle it,” Bharadwaj says. “You are trending on social media and there is a status pressure. You try to be someone you are not. In the camp, where there were around 70 other boys, he was just one among them. He didn’t have the air about being an IPL player. He was the same nine-year-old kid I saw.”
The reasoning behind all of it is specific. “After the high of last season, we thought it is best to leave everything to God. Uppar wala ko poora credit dhedhiya. Since he performed, the expectations will be huge. And when there are expectations, there will be additional pressure. As such the pressure is already high in IPL — so why put additional burden? If he did that, to keep performing consistently is not possible. You won’t put the team ahead, you will try to put your game ahead.” He pauses. “The powerplay is for the team. What you do next is for you.”
The evidence arrives in the spring. Against Chennai Super Kings, Arya scores 39 off 11 to set up a 210-run chase. Against Sunrisers Hyderabad, chasing 220, he hits 18 off the first over and finishes with 57 off 20. On Sunday night in Lucknow, nine sixes. A 37-ball 93.
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Brad Haddin had one question when he boarded the flight to India in March—how would Arya show up in his second season, when opponents arrive having studied him. The second-season syndrome is not to be overlooked. Bowlers talk. Plans get made. What he and Ricky Ponting found in Chandigarh was not what they had been bracing for. “He has matured a lot. He’s something special—he can do things that other batters can’t. We got a taste of that last year. He’s got a real understanding of the game now and how the game’s panning out in front of him. And at the moment, he’s still untapped.”
Watch Arya at the crease. He is still. Shoulders slightly open, creating space across the outfield. He picks up length early, and once he has it, the fast hands do the rest—the bat-swing generates distance without visible effort. When nothing is on offer, he defends.
“Arya’s biggest strength is his ability to pick the length early,” says Delhi coach Sarandeep Singh. “It allows him to be in good position and with that hand speed, the rest falls in place. It is what made Steve Smith the batsman he is in Test cricket.”
Sarandeep has watched him through the domestic season — the red-ball work, the unglamorous sessions, a first-class debut that arrived after a long wait. “For me, he is a three-format player. Just because he is scoring boundaries and hitting sixes, he shouldn’t be written off as a white-ball player. He has a good block. He doesn’t slog. He didn’t get enough red-ball opportunities, but looking at the work he is putting in behind the scenes, it is only a matter of time. Once he gets one big score, he will be unstoppable.”
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Before the IPL, Bharadwaj sent Arya to a club tournament in Mansa, Punjab. He travelled third AC. He made a hundred off 28 balls. The crowds didn’t know his name. It didn’t matter.
“He is not someone who has got carried away by the IPL riches,” Bharadwaj says. “That for me shows he is willing to go the distance. He is very humble and that’s what you need.”
Sarandeep agrees. “That boy is very quiet off the field and observant. He is a very thinking cricketer. In terms of talent, I would put him in the same bracket as Yashasvi Jaiswal.”
On Sunday night at Lucknow, after the ninth six, Arya walks back between deliveries. He taps the crease twice, resets his guard. He is still.
