Snapshotting Mohali T20I - Your one-stop-guide to India’s seven-wicket victory over South Africa

Quinton de Kock, leaving his usual headphone-clad quaint avatar behind, made his way towards Rishabh Pant - his Indian counterpart behind the stumps - and possibly warned him not to sledge him, like the way he did to Tim Paine. After all, for him, a quaint state of mind is all what matters. And Pant, being a good host, graciously nodded in approval. The Indian wicket-keeper had taken the “Atithi Devo Bhava” call so seriously that he stayed silent all throughout the game, not uttering a single word as the South African opening duo took the hell out of flat Mohali deck. They smashed Navdeep Saini and Deepak Chahar to submission as the presence of moisture, of course, the damning North-Indian dew, made the bowlers search for the escape route. 

If there ever was an inspiration, Temba Bavuma emerged as the ultimate hero for the Africans, scoring runs in a way that made everyone sitting in the room wonder, why was this guy playing a blocka-thon all those years ago in Delhi? Could simply be outstanding in the limited-overs format earlier. Why the f*** was he made out to make his debut tonight? It would have been much better had he continued longer to score runs the way he started. But the folk hero, the legend, the symbol of progressive Afrikkaners going for a leather hunt was no mean fact, man. 

The wicket slowed down. The white kookaburra was stopping onto the batsman because of the slowness but just the fact that Miller was there, a man who had the genuine claim of understanding Mohali track like anything, gave rise to a hope, but like everything with South African cricket, it fell apart at the most crucial juncture of the game - a complete contrast to the way everything started 20 overs ago.

If cricket was a game of banality, in hindsight, I would have traded my pleasure of watching the sport with any South African batsman asking for it. Sadly, they didn’t ask for it, and when Rohit Sharma and Shikhar Dhawan came out to bat, the arena had been driven up as if it was only a formality for the Indians to wrap things in a flash. The dew had become prominent to such a point that “Aa Rahe Hain Rabada, Sabko Karenge Kabada” had become Mohammed Siraj with an RCB jersey. 

One of the things that was to keep in the notice was the way Kohli accelerated. A hit through cover for a six against Dwaine Pretorius was a thing of beauty. The zone mattered to him and slowly, yet steadily, South Africa were losing the grasp over the game. This was also time for Rishabh Pant to pick himself up from the debris, after his coach and captain, minced no words that he would not be spared if he continues school-boy errors, and the fixture arrived in time before seeds of self-doubt could creep into his system. 

Let that go to the bin. Pant doesn’t care. He rather panted under pressure and played yet another “careless” shot - Hey Vikram, were you watching? - to put India under further pressure. How could you really explain such nature of a batsman who has, time and time again, thought the game was beyond what it should have been for a T20 batsman - afford to make mistake when the game permits you. 

The art of batting is an existential tragedy in miniature, a lifetime's story writ small, but everything else failed in front of him as the man from Delhi made the mockery of the South Africans till the last ball he faced today, guiding the Indians to victory. A victory that was the byproduct of every good thing that the team has done so far. It was about controlling the controllable, it was about bringing the home hegemony back, and at the same time, making a mockery of one team’s revival plans. This was about snapshotting the moments, and eventually walking away as the winners.