A drop, showers and run downpour

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You have been waiting for this moment, your first Test match this year. The axe from the playing XI for the New Year’s Test in Sydney still hurts. Actually, drops of all manner hurt. But if you are seen as only a one-format player, being left out pains all the more. It leaves you gutted. You shake your head: banish the depressing mindset. Think positive. Think ahead.

You have made all the right noises in the pre-series interviews. “Flexible enough. Ready to bat at any position.” You have talked yourself up, with customary politeness. “Well prepared for the series after Yorkshire’s hostile conditions.”

Maybe that customary politeness is the problem. People seem to take you lightly. They appear to hint that runs are alright but you don’t seem tough enough. Sufficiently macho. You have even grown a beard. Would it help to fit in?

You step out of the bus and head to the dressing room. It’s not chilly now. It’s hot and humid. It’s Bangladesh, after all. The deck looks flat and full of runs. The ball won’t do much on it, despite the conditions. It should be a thrilling thought for any batsman, but it fills you with some dread. Will your services be required here? You know the answer, but still…

The team is penciled in and given to the referee. To be honest, it was penciled in last evening. You know what’s coming. But still…

5 batsmen, 6 bowlers

Virat Kohli and Mushfiqur Rahim walk out for the toss and India win it. You hear Kohli telling the commentator: “Three seamers, two offspinners, and six batsmen.” Even if a fate is preordained, it doesn’t make it any more palatable. You still hear your heart beating faster and louder. The team sheet flashes on the telly: Shikhar Dhawan, M Vijay, Rohit Sharma, Virat Kohli, Ajinkya Rahane, Wriddhiman Saha, R Ashwin, Harbhajan Singh, Umesh Yadav, Ishant Sharma, Varun Aaron. The heart skips a beat.

Mushfiqur is saying something. Half-distracted, you look at the Bangladesh playing XI. One medium pacer, one part-time military medium and four spinners.

The hosts have gone into a shell before a ball is bowled. Those six batsmen India have gambled on look more than sufficient against this attack. You watch as Shikhar Dhawan and Murali Vijay pad up and walk out with swagger. You think about Dhawan.

He too was in a position similar to yours six months ago. He made 28 and 0 in the Boxing Day Test, where you scored 25 and 21. He too got the axe in Sydney. Worse, the replacement opener KL Rahul (who incidentally played at No.3, your number, in Melbourne while you batted at six) cracked a hundred. But Dhawan, unlike you, had a safety net: He was in India’s ODI team. A player of his talent and temperament, you acknowledge, can’t keep failing forever. In the World Cup, he was back among the runs, big time, finishing as India’s topscorer. And these days, runs seem to count, not the format in which they come. While you were playing county cricket, Dhawan was having another decent run in the IPL.

Strong opening

You don’t have any grudges against Dhawan, but you do admit that some people get the rub of the green rather frequently. You elaborate the point: Rahul, who could have kept Dhawan out here, fell sick days before the team’s departure to Dhaka.

Perhaps, you sense, Dhawan also knows how lucky he is. For, as he walks out to bat, he carries the confidence of man who has read his immediate future. He looks as if he knows it will be his day. Or so it appears to you. You get the further proof when he nicks one at a personal score of 1, but it doesn’t carry. Five balls later, he unfurls a cover drive off the military medium pacer Soumya Sarkar. Exquisite, you can’t help but think. You had seen it coming. And you had seen that he had seen it coming too.

Dhawan now tears into Bangladesh’s hapless bowling. You carry the drinks for the players. The break gives some respitae to the home team as well. You feel for them, and pity their lack of guts.

Dhawan is now heavily outscoring the more watchful Vijay. A century looms before lunch. But as does a dark canopy of cloud. Rain finally intervenes. This weather will save Bangladesh even if they aren’t too inclined to save themselves.

The second session is completely washed out. It gives you more time to ponder. Who will bat at 3, you ask yourself. They way things have gone in the first session, no one probably will. The rain finally stops and the match restarts at 3:30 pm. Dhawan’s ton comes with a sweep, at run-a-ball. You are up on your feet and clapping. But he barely celebrates, you notice. Dhawan is not finished yet. He will put this opener debate to bed. Records tumble after Vijay too picks up. Dhawan completes his 150, and India end first day on 239/0. In just 56 overs! It’s ODI pace.

Who’s No.3?

But these are sub-continental conditions, a part of you tells you. Out of Asia, where the ball dances, you can’t go always hammer and tongs. Adrenalin and testosterone are all right in India, but a team needs someone to walk in at three and stabilise the innings when an early wicket goes down.

Heck, New Zealand, who are redefining the term “aggressive cricket”, have Ken Williamson to calm things down. And forget outside Asia, who will they play at No.3 when Dale Steyn, Morne Morkel and Vernon Philander come here for four Tests?

It reminds you of the original question, your singular point of interest in the match: Who will play at No.3 tomorrow?

Put the headphones on, take your seat in the bus, lean back and think about it on your way to the hotel.