Love, Melbourne
Belief and the magic of destiny at the Australian Open 2026
Dearest Reader,
There is one word I cannot stop thinking about, one word that defies reason yet shapes all our lives: Kismat. Originating from the Arabic word: qisma, meaning “portion,” it travelled through Persian, Turkish, Urdu, and Hindi to signify what we now call “fate.” For English speakers, you may know it as kismet. It echoes sayings like “fortune favours the brave” or “written in the stars,” and for a fleeting moment, we feel the sun on our faces and the stars gleaming above, as life rewards us in ways we could never have imagined.
The wheels of destiny never stop turning. I remember being in college, debating free will versus destiny, my friend and I standing alone on the ‘free will’ side. Does it truly exist? Or do we console ourselves with saccharine lies, shivering at the uncertainty of the future? Or can we dare to believe in ourselves? Just a little more than ever before and watch the magic unfold.
Philosophers have debated this question across centuries, and I suspect there will never be a conclusive answer. Free will and destiny are intertwined, and both come alive when you trust yourself, time and again, against all odds, especially when no one else does. Life, I’ve come to believe, meets you at the level of audacity you dare to summon.
And this fortnight at the Australian Open 2026 has made that exquisitely clear.
CHAMPION: ELENA RYBAKINA
Down but not out. After her 2022 Wimbledon victory, Elena Rybakina’s road back to the top was riddled with trials and tribulations in the form of lower back injuries and coaching woes. Not quite able to find her footing on the grandest stages, she was written off by many as a “one slam wonder.” A phrase I dislike for how demeaning and reductive it sounds. One Slam may seem like a speck in the universe to some, but for the victor, it represents a lifetime of sacrifice, discipline, and dreams crystallized into a single moment.
A moment in time no one can ever take away.
Even Rybakina felt doubt gnaw at her as she wondered, would another Grand Slam ever come? Yet she trusted the grind and the patient craft of her game. Entering the Australian Open, Rybakina was ranked 5th in the world. She looked to build on her year-end form, which saw her bag two titles, the Ningbo Open and the WTA finals. Not only did she continue this form, but she cruised into the finals without dropping a set. Okay, perhaps cruised is underselling her valiant efforts, because it truly takes ice in your veins to shut down the world number two—Iga Swiatek—and six—Jessica Pegula—en route to the finals.
Expectedly, she ran into an equally in-form and dominant world number one, Aryna Sabalenka. Unlike the 2023 AO finals, the Kazakh did not let nerves override her game as she struck first (and I marvelled at her continued ability to strike tirelessly), imposed her game immediately and steamrolled the first set. Even when 3-0 down in the third set, she showed no visible signs of discomfort as calmness became her conduit to the trophy.
The Ice-Queen was able to fend off the raw firepower that is Sabalenka, freezing everyone’s gaze onto her marvellous forehands and her arrowing backhand down the lines. And in quintessential Rybakina fashion, she poetically sealed her crowning glory with an Ace. Her serve had been her elixir all tournament long. Unthawed by disturbances.
Like her first rodeo, what stood out the most was her extremely unassuming celebration, a fist pump. If you are a casual watcher, you’d think she’s just won another match, not a Major title. Maybe it is her naturally reticent nature, alongside her towering 6-foot-1-inch figure and rocket-like serve, that throws one off balance and creates such a striking contrast.
With Rybakina back in the winner’s circle, for me, the allure of the WTA has only heightened. As the merry-go-round of who might win the next slam spins on in our minds, one thing I can guarantee is that all these women will continue to serve—on and off the court— showcasing the depth of the field and the quiet magic of self-belief.
FINALIST: ARYNA SABALENKA
It takes two to tango. To put on a spectacle so grand that you hope the rest of the year unfolds with the same ferocity. Aryna Sabalenka is no stranger to Rod Laver Arena, having won her first Grand Slam here. Firsts are always special and memorable, and for four years now, she has relished her fortnightly stay here. Two titles and two finalist plates have been her story thus far. These runner-up moments had nothing to do with a lack of self-assurance and everything to do with running into two resurgent forces in Madison Keys and Elena Rybakina.
True to her world-number-one status, she fought out there, leaving nothing behind, yet Rybakina’s unyielding aggression was simply too powerful to overcome. Sabalenka’s chink this time around might have been her open display of frustration, one that she couldn’t quite overcome even as the match progressed. Handling her loss with great composure, the number one duly gave credit where credit is due, lauding Rybakina for her victory.
Her sociable personality makes Sabalenka the subject of countless conversations. In a sport that can’t quite decide whether it loves the quiet or the loud, she chooses to be herself. Come what may. And this I respect and appreciate.
Sabalenka remains the queen of hard courts; she is still the woman to beat. The one dazzling with her blue sapphires and a force no opponent can ignore. (and perhaps she won’t play Brisbane next year, iykyk.)
CHAMPION: CARLOS ALCARAZ
What is a Grand Slam without its five-set thrillers? A question many of us asked ourselves as we headed into week two. Just when we’d begun to despair, the tennis gods conjured a spectacle so grand that we’ll be raving about it for eternity and beyond. The men’s semi-finals alone clocked nearly ten hours of play, with all four players pouring every ounce of themselves onto the court.
Emerging from this blaze was a man I should stop shrouding in doubt: Carlos Alcaraz. After surviving a 5-hour, 27-minute, edge-of-your-seat battle, I wondered how he would regroup for the towering task that is Novak Djokovic in an Australian Open final. No matter your age, no matter the circumstances, this is daunting. And daunting it proved to be.
The match began with a 2016 Djokovic resurrected in the body of a 38-year-old, wielding a serve light-years ahead of his prime self. 2-6. Set-1 done and dusted in 33 minutes. Alright, not looking very promising for the number one. But let us not forget: Alcaraz is no mere mortal. And in a best-of-five showdown, the following set quickly silenced any doubts. 6–2.
What followed was a 6-3, 7-5 victory to become the youngest man in the history of tennis to win all four slams. 22 years and 272 days to be precise. What were you doing at 22? Well, I’m the same age now and currently writing about him. Cheers to that. What I find chillingly brilliant is how he’s only just getting started, how he shows up to every slam with a fire in his eyes. Oh, don’t be fooled by his smiley, bubbly personality, for he is an unstoppable force. He is like a star fated to shine, blazing across the cosmos with inevitability.
We can gush over how complete a player he is, leaving our imaginations to run wild at how much better he might yet become. But this is a question only time can answer. This only just struck me now and I think Alcaraz seems to have discovered the secret to being a champion that transcends technique. More than any shot, it’s his on-court demeanour, his optimism, his pure, unbridled joy that captivates me.
As if just being on the court is a gift, and everything that follows springs from self-belief and gratitude. A lethal combination most people only grasp later in life, yet he seems to have understood it already.
And perhaps that is his true magic: joyousness.
(Of course, this is all coupled with having every shot in the book, and bolt-like speed, and jaw-dropping inventiveness, and sheer guts. To drop-shot the way he does, jeez, it’s astonishing. Even after watching umpteen matches, it never fails to amaze me.)
Alcaraz, truly, has the uncanny ability to engineer shots that catch even the most masterful players off guard, leaving them daunted and scrambling. The noise surrounding him had grown deafening over the preseason, following the surprising parting with his long-time coach, Juan Carlos Ferrero. This victory, however, let results speak louder than what-ifs and rumours. Personally, it may take me some time to adjust to the change in his box, but he appears outwardly unfazed, as if nothing had happened. He was winning then, and he continues now with the same relentless momentum.
With seven slams under his belt already, the sky is the limit.
FINALIST: NOVAK DJOKOVIC
Champions come, and champions go; that is the cyclical nature of sport. Yet a rare few are destined for immortality, and Novak Djokovic is undoubtedly one of them. For nearly two decades, the audience’s appreciation had eluded him. Even now, there are some people who enjoy stirring the pot by downplaying his achievements in the sport. Really, for no good reason other than a sensationalistic headline and five seconds of fame.
“Always chasing” is a truly laughable statement. (Although I’m not exactly sure who the journalist was, this seemed more like a classic foot-in-mouth moment, where what sounds perfectly articulate in your head somehow doesn’t translate at all in reality.) But, chasing who, darling? With 24 slams and records that will fill up pages, he is the one everyone else is going to try to catch. He has long stopped chasing anything but history itself.
Two walkovers through the round of 16 and the quarterfinals were enough to tempt belief, enough to make it feel (however unrealistically) that this might finally be it, that Grand Slam number 25 was quietly loading in the background. Yes, I fully believed this could be it until 5-5 in the fourth.
For two years, Novak Djokovic had not managed to beat Jannik Sinner, who arrived with an impeccable hard-court record and the confidence of someone who seemed nearly untouchable on the surface.
Perhaps fate really is a cosmic trickster. It demanded every ounce of effort from Djokovic in the semifinal, stretching him to his limits, only to allow him to finally overcome Sinner on the very court where he had beaten him two years earlier. When the final arrived, Djokovic came out blazing, determined to impose himself on Carlos Alcaraz from the outset. He tried to bend the match to his will, but Alcaraz proved too strong and ultimately too difficult to unsettle.
For me, the match is distilled into one moment, and that is the second game of the fourth set. Nearly fifteen minutes long. Djokovic dug in and won it. On full display was his resilience and defiance; he has never given up easily and never will. That single game felt like his entire career compressed into a quarter of an hour. Awe-striking.
As always, Djokovic was gracious and articulate in defeat. He closed his speech by saying,
“God knows what happens tomorrow, let alone in six months or 12 months. It has been a great ride. I love you guys.” ❤️🩹
It is nearly 3 a.m., with caffeine still swimming through my veins and my nervous system pleading for sleep. For an overthinker, those words felt like the perfect mixed signal to obsess over and dissect endlessly. But not this time. The words on the screen are beginning to blur and the moment for rumination would have to wait.
If this truly is the end, at least for the foreseeable future, then there is nothing left to do but say thank you. For the years, the battles, the belief, and the privilege of watching it all unfold.
So, dearest reader, do you believe in fate? In destiny? Or is it the delicate weaving of the two that carries us forward? This fortnight reminded me that like in tennis, life responds to audacity. Somewhere between the stars above and the sweat on the court, there is a spark of kismat, and it is ours to witness and savour.
If you were exhausted, undone, and cursing the tyranny of time zones, fret not, because this was only the beginning. (It only gets crazier) It was merely the first month of a long and demanding season. One Grand Slam is now in the books, with three more still waiting to be claimed. The question of who will ultimately be crowned champion remains wide open. For now, the players return to the road, as they set their sights on the next stretch of big tournaments still to come.
Brace yourselves as we get pulled into a rapidly glitching time vortex, drifting from one place to the next with sleep perpetually in tow. For now, I’m going to go catch up on my 8 hours of sleep, and I hope you can do the same.
Thanks for reading!
Until next time.
Love,
Areyah
Author’s note: Thanks for joining me for the Australian Open coverage. It’s been a lot of fun. Stay tuned for more :)
Author’s note 2: My newsletter—Love.All— is fully reader supported. If you have enjoyed reading my work and would like to see more, then please do feel free to click on the link below. Thank You <3
Wonderful reflection on a great tournament!