At 112 for 8, India had no business standing tall against England’s pacers.
Archer was steaming in like he had jumped in a time machine, and his body remembered everything from this very day, six years ago. Every time he held the ball, India felt a little shaken and England felt a little more confident.
Woakes, on the other end, was bowling like someone forced to work on a Monday morning. Grumpy and ruthless with his routine. Hitting the top of off like he was clocking in and out of his shift, just wanting to get it done with things and get out.
Carse was bowling like he was in a bar fight. He threw yorkers that almost killed the batters and bowled bouncers that nearly tasted blood.
Stokes looked like he was waiting for his cab of wickets to get him to the railway station of win, only for his cabs to keep getting cancelled by the Indian defence. He tried all his apps, but nothing worked.
Yet, India were fighting it all. One ball at a time. One run at a time. Jadeja brought out his sword for real. And was defending his castle with everything he had. Four dots at once and a nudge in between.
Bumrah is used to being the centre of the story. He has done some damage to the batters over the years. This time, he was at the receiving end. You don’t see him that often. You don’t want him with the bat too. But he was all we were left with.
As we closed in towards tea, every over became a prayer. Every leave was cheered, and every single second felt like a needle on the skin.
That needle turned out to be England’s caffeine shot, straight into the veins, when they removed Bumrah in the dying moments of the second session.
Meanwhile, Jadeja moved from 20s to 50s like someone solving a Rubik’s cube. His partners were moving too, in terms of the deliveries they defended, in the minutes they survived.
On most days, his partners were walking memes with the bat. On another day, we would have wanted Bumrah and Siraj to swing hard and have some fun. We would have laughed with them too. But today wasn’t one of those days.
Today, it was more about making sure Jadeja stayed on strike. Their presence mattered more than their shots.
***
When India saw the target, they would have thought they would wrap it up by lunch. When England saw the wickets, they would have backed themselves to wrap it before tea. But the Indian tail was writing a different story. They dragged it to the final session, stealing runs like thieves, who were always one mistake away. That mistake came in the 75th over of the innings.
It took a broken-finger Bashir to break through Indian resistance. He floated one above the eyeline, sliding an invitation to Siraj.
Siraj wanted to take the invitation too, but he went back, unassuming of the backspin. But it was too late to stop as he let the opponent soldiers in before he could realise it. Along with the bail, fate fell like a slow motion, and that was it.
Bashir took off to celebrate, and today, he is not going to care about that finger anymore. That’s for another day. The celebration began.
At the other end, Siraj did not move from the crease, not able to believe what he had done, and what he could have and what it could have been.
Jadeja gave it all but not his wicket. He carried his sword once again, but it didn’t matter in the end. Jadeja deserved a better result but sometimes, a fight itself is a story. Winning small battles with a tail itself deserves some appreciation.
He knew he could have had his own Mohali script. He knew he could have been Laxman for a day. Tomorrow he will wake up and forget it all.
For Siraj, who has been brutal towards the stumps this series, will be hating it all over again. For different reasons now.
But for England, they are 2–1 up. They will always have July 14 with them. Be it 2019. Be it 2025.
Image: Getty Images
