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That we could force Test-side Zimbabwe to win in the last over of the match was in itself a credit for the forlorn Bangladeshis. It seems the sun was once again rising on the purbo diganta. The horizon was slightly reddened - whether from the pains of letting a winning chance go by or from the hopes of rosy days ahead was difficult to ascertain. We lacked the fighting spirit, the burst that enables a 100m sprinter to breast the tape ahead of his opponents, close contests that require a photo finish.

Looking back one could pinpoint several moments that cost Bangladesh the match. Sending debutant Mahbubur Rahman Selim with four overs to go as experienced belters Khalid Mahmud, Enamul Huq and Neeyamur Rashid adorned the bench was one mistake that Aminul Islam may have regretted all night. Some may consider Mahbubur Rahman Selim's dropping of Campbell as another crucial roundabout.

To the credit of our boys they could make everyone sit on the fence, make the Zimbabweans sweat under the floodlights and once again inject in us the giddy feeling that, with that vital push still lacking, we can win a cricket match.

This match will go a long way as vitamins for the world cup. This performance should convince our boys that opponents don't bite. With a little initiative and killer instincts, even lions can be made to stoop.

Don't misunderstand my position, but there is a silver lining in yesterday's defeat. A win against Zimbabwe may have flown us to cloud nine, and that would be suicidal in the months to come. This defeat could be the right wound to lick.

We now have a base on which to stand. If our cricketers begin to believe in themselves, that even the best in the world are only human, the nation may be spared many a blush.

There were occasions last evening when most of us thought we would win, but believed otherwise. Such dualism in the gallery or at home hurts no one, but even an inkling of it among our cricketers on the field can mean the difference between jubilation and dejection.

Defeat last night put us down but not to the extent that it can rob us of being jubilant in hoping for the future.

If I sound like a different trumpet from yesterday's painful shenai, my state of mind is totally justified because it reflects the fluctuating rhythms of our cricket.

With minutes to go before sounds of grenades and bullets take us back to the fateful night twenty-eight years ago, somewhere in the distance I can hear, 'we shall overcome'.

But, there is also caution in the wind.