Mohali, first Test, day 4
Thursday, December 6, 2001

As the Punjab Cricket Association stadium returned to the solitary splendour of a week ago, the Union Jack on the flagpole limped about in the breeze. The multi-coloured steps regained their vitality, uncluttered by humans. A man swept the pitch with a brush of twigs, a steward unwound the white hose and TV sound-men looped together their lifelines of orange cables. The curator stared at the pitch searching for demons that were never there.

A group of supporters sat cross-legged on the ground and watched the pundits send back their final dispatches. Sprinklers sent jets of water over the outfield like the spray from a motorboat. There was no evening bhangra today. The game was up.

What there was was disappointment, and not just among spectators with sunburn. The last series here, against Australia, was perhaps the greatest ever. India too lost the first Test of that series by ten wickets, but what followed was titanic. What follows here could be too. Perhaps. But the Indian fans were probably more correct when they sang at the presentation ceremony, "London Bridge is falling down".

For a match that had brought a breath of fresh air to Chandigarh to end in a capitulation was sad. One-day internationals here had always attracted big crowds, but previous Tests had come and gone. This one had captured the public imagination. The hotels were booked up, the authorities had promoted the game and there was a buzz, a sense of expectation. It was a chance to watch and worship Harbhajan Singh, a local hero almost as popular as, whisper it, Tendulkar.

But it was the hairy top lip that did it for England. This generation are not used to spinners with moustaches - back home, they're strictly for eccentric wicketkeepers, chairmen of selectors and football anchormen. Anil Kumble, he of the face that should be carved in marble and turned into a caryatid, came back with a vengeance after a tour of South Africa where, as usual overseas, he was merely tidy. He is still not back to his best, but his straight-armed javelins were more than enough to pierce England's defences. As gentle as Harbhajan is fiery, he matched him in his ability to befuddle and bemuse unsuspecting tourists.

Graham Thorpe had stood impassive at the non-striker's end, left hand on hip, right on bat, as a succession of lesser batsmen sloped back to the dressing-room without even a hello. Matthew Hoggard, confused in the scramble for pads and box, thought it was all over when Richard Dawson was out. He enthusiastically went up and shook the Indian players' hands, until the umpires explained that in fact India needed five more runs to win. So Hoggard had to come back out and bowl two balls. When England trudged off at the actual end, hands in pockets, they looked shell-shocked. Dawson, the man who most enhanced his reputation, took a stump - there wasn't a rush for them.

In a final twist of the knife, Sourav Ganguly had decided that the winnings runs should be hit not by a proper batsman but by Iqbal Siddiqui, a No. 10 playing in his first Test. As mind-games go, it was a masterstroke. Nasser Hussain needs to discover some of his own in the four days he has left before Ahmedabad, or the series will be over by the end of next week.

Tanya Aldred, our assistant editor, is covering the whole tour for Wisden.com.

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