A ball was yet to be bowled in Darwin, and a run was yet to be scored, when Bangladesh captain Najmul Hossain Shanto was asked at a press conference: “Will this Test last five days, or end in three?”
“We will try to take it to the fifth day,” he replied.
He could not. In fact, Bangladesh didn’t require a fifth day — only four proved enough to secure a historic, narrative-defying nine-wicket triumph over Australia. India required 12 attempts. Pakistan seven. Sri Lanka have never done it. Bangladesh have a Test win on Australian soil at just the third time of asking — and yet, they have had to wait 26 years for it.
The deepest mark of hierarchy, argue psychologists, is not that the powerful believe they deserve more, but that the weak believe they deserve less. When Shanto asked the touring Bangladeshi press contingent what would constitute a successful tour, a journalist replied: “A draw.”
Before departing for the Test series, Shanto basked in pride for something that had nothing to do with Bangladesh cricket. He had just been briefed on Australia’s squad. With every name he read, his smile widened. Pat Cummins. Mitchell Starc. Steve Smith. Josh Hazlewood. Stars, superstars, cricketing demigods.
When he had taken it all in, Shanto, still absorbing the weight of the names before him, claimed: “Australia announcing a full-strength squad is an achievement for us. Usually, (big) teams tend to experiment when they play against Bangladesh. Looking at their squad, it’s clear they haven’t taken us lightly.”
At that moment, one would not have wanted to spoil Shanto’s mood by pointing out the obvious: Australia’s decision to field a full-strength side had more to do with the World Test Championship points on offer than with their assessment of Bangladesh. Historically, the latter has been low.
Bangladesh had been invited to play cricket’s original format by cricket’s most successful team only once in 26 years. In 2003. And even then, they were looked at with disdain.
Former Australia cricketer David Hookes, for instance, could see little point in playing Bangladesh. “It could be all over and done within a day. The reality is that Bangladesh doesn’t deserve to be in Test cricket,” he had said.
It wasn’t done in a day. But it unfolded along expected lines. Australia won both Tests by an innings.
Since then, Australia have avoided inviting Bangladesh. They did schedule a two-Test-three-ODI series in 2018, before calling it off. The official reason was: Commercial viability. The unofficial assumption was simpler: Who, after all, would be interested in watching Australia play Bangladesh?
Crestfallen, then Bangladesh Cricket Board CEO Nizam Uddin Chowdhury had said: “This is really disappointing. Not every series we conduct is profitable. If we can conduct them, I believe Australia can do it too.”
Perhaps, they could. Certainly, they didn’t. Bangladesh, like so many of cricket’s smaller nations, was treated as expendable. They learned the hard way that in a world where almost every other sport seeks to expand, cricket has repeatedly narrowed its centre of gravity, preserving an exclusive gathering of the elite and the established. That penchant merits a critique, but it goes beyond the scope of this article.
What doesn’t, however, is what happens when the status quo is challenged.
At Darwin, Bangladesh delivered what is being dubbed as among cricket’s greatest upsets of all time.
Starc, Hazlewood and Cummins may have more than 1,000 Test wickets between them, but in Darwin, it was Hasan Mahmud who burned brightest. Nine wickets — his best return in a Test match. Against a team that had Smith and Travis Head in their ranks, Tanzid Hasan Tamim flew highest. 101 runs.
Hasan is 26. Tanzid is 25. Shakib Al Hasan, the world’s No.1 Test all-rounder across multiple spells over the past decade, never played a Test in Australia. Hasan and Tanzid can therefore consider themselves fortunate. But fortune, for them, should not be the end of the story.
Bangladesh’s purpose on this tour was never simply to win a trophy. It was to earn respect. And, with it, if Australia were kind enough, invitations. After the embarrassment in Darwin, though, would Australia make the same mistake again?
When victory was sealed, the Bangladeshi players gathered and sang Amra korbo joy — the Bengali adaptation of Charles Albert Tindley’s We Shall Overcome.
A little antiquated, perhaps. Had they learned condescension from their opponents, they would have chosen something cooler. Like Kendrick Lamar. Specifically, the one with the words:
“Sit down. Be humble.”
The writer is deputy copy editor, The Indian Express
shuvaditya.bose@expressindia.com
At Darwin, Bangladesh delivered what is being dubbed as among cricket's greatest upsets of all time. 
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