The soundtrack to the many ups, downs and overturnings of the Border Gavaskar Trophy (BGT) series is filled with incantations of #toughestrivalry and #sledgehammer, repeated airings of “Boiling Point”, and post Siraj-Travis, multiple spewings of “garmi” “garmahat” and its multilingual variants. With the Brisbane Test next, be prepared for a bombardment of how ‘Gabba ka Ghamand’ (Gabba’s pride/arrogance) must now be broken.
Amidst this heat-generating balderdash, it is easy to miss out on a new backbeat with a steady tempo and clarity of expression cutting through the BGT surround sound. It comes from the voice and words of Cheteshwar Pujara. The same fellow we have seen and known on our cricket screens, only this time with a mic in hand. He is now to be found mostly in Hotstar’s Hindi commentary feed where Pujara sounds exactly like he bats.
Low-key, mind on the job, situationally aware, informed, rational and unmoved by hoopla, branding, posturing. Intent – the word Indian cricket loves so much – to cut through the noise and be the plain-speaking, no-TRP, no-BS cricket expert.
The BGT series is Pujara’s first live commentary stint following his early foray last year as video expert with ESPNcricinfo during the Asia Cup and ICC World Cup. Sometimes Pujara does appear with the Hotstar hotshot Angrezi-wallahs in post-match discussions – as a hologram on an Australian ground. (For someone who is six feet tall, his digital version oddly appears to match everyone’s height).
Natural fit
In the Hotstar Hindi commentary box, which in any case sounds a far less uptight and self-regarding space than its English cuz, Pujara has slotted in easily. He is surrounded mostly by teammates and contemporaries and says his piece in his own quiet way, like he must have in the dressing room. The voice of reason over emotion, or to use a Sachin-ism – cricket with hosh (awareness) over josh (passion).
Non-Hindi speakers, it must be said, are missing out. With due respect to the other English heavy hitters, there is no one better to tell an Indian audience what it means to bat in Australia these days – against Cummins, Starc and Co – and how it can be done successfully.
As India lost five second innings wickets in the final session of play on day two of the Adelaide Test, Pujara called out the state of his team clinically. That their collective batting plan had not looked at sticking it out under lights; the line-up as a unit had not shown signs of understanding that they could not afford to lose more than two or three wickets in the final session, on a track they knew would come to life at night with the knowledge that sticking it out would bring reward the following afternoon. It would give their best batters and the team’s prospects a better chance of batting longer in the sunshine the next day, in conditions made for run-scoring.
He knew because he’s been there before. For someone who has played 2,657 Test deliveries in Australia with three centuries and five fifties, his assessment of India’s game was simple. “We tried to get out of difficult situations by playing shots, but every time the counter-attacking tactic doesn’t work… You have to respect good bowling and take time out and show respect – we have to look at how to get past these good spells where we’re losing wickets in bunches. You have to handle tough spells, and when you get a chance then you can play attacking shots.” Maybe Pujara should copyright and distribute his Test batting cricket shot-selection manual among anguished batters and their coaches.
We found ourselves in the batter’s place when facing Mitchell Starc as Pujara deconstructed Shubman Gill’s dismissal. “The problem with the pink ball for batsmen is that the one that swings more just rushes onto you. You can’t be ready on every ball – for Shubman, most were going away with the angle, and the one that came in hurried and Shubman was late on it.” He spoke openly of Virat Kohli’s and Rohit Sharma’s issues, no shilly-shallying around the fact that the Australians have outed them and they needed to find solutions inside a few days.
Understated humour
Not all of Pujara’s commentary was of technical correctness – his sense of humour is much like his personality, understated. As his handful of adverts show, he too takes a joke about his strike-rate and six-hitting skills. Drily he informed the audience that the Aussies were mostly heard only when they were doing well. Not much chatter in Perth, remember? The best way to silence them was with performance. When Mohammed Siraj and Travis Head went at each other, Pujara could have been standing at slip, discussing the matter with his buddy Ajinkya Rahane. “Siraj was in his zone and in the mood, happy and celebrating and Travis Head, heat of the moment, he didn’t like the celebration so he said something… these things happen and neither will be hassled… from here move on karna hoga.” Indeed. Like his and his mates did from Adelaide 2020-21 onto India’s biggest Test series win in its history.
In the studio, it is said Pujara turns up on time, dressed in his own clothes, smartly-tailored jackets, blazers and/or, nifty pocket squares. On day one of the Adelaide Test, he was dressed in white suit and pink shirt. Of course, the pink-ball Test was the biggest deal of the day. And the suit? Maybe an unintentional tribute to 1970s Bollywood star, Jeetendra!
After his first-ever commentary stint from the Perth Test, Pujara stepped out of the box and asked people around the studio, “Any feedback? Any improvement?” Which in the words of someone in the room, “puts him apart from anyone who jumps from playing field to broadcast box thinking that it is their birth right.”
These are the earliest days and the most ideal series for Pujara’s debut as commentator. But as time and cricket wears on, who knows how he will tackle the great Indian cricket broadcasting machine? Where the default mode is cliché-production and turning every on-field incident as an opportunity to turn the camera on whichever star the broadcasters have anointed for worship. But even in a cricket commentary world that appears to reward and amplify the most loyal, the most pliable, the most colourful, the loudest, we must give thanks to whoever realised that it was only logical to have Pujara play the straight man.
