the next ball would be a yorker and was mentally prepared for it. It turned out to be another bouncer, which I left. While I kept expecting a fiery yorker, balls five and six also turned out to be bouncers, and at the end of the over I said to myself, ‘Welcome to Test cricket.’ Not without reason is it acknowledged as the most challenging format of the game.
My stay at the crease was short and not sweet. I had lasted only twenty-four balls, at least half of which I had missed. I had hit two boundaries but not for a moment had I felt comfortable. It was only a matter of time before I was dismissed. I was finally bowled for a rather lucky 15 by another debutant, Waqar Younis, and on my way back to the pavilion my mind was riddled with self-doubt.
It was a very important moment in my career. I had come to the international stage after blazing my way through domestic cricket. I had managed to score a hundred on debut in the Ranji and Irani trophies, but here I was on the international stage unable to put bat on ball. I was struggling, plain and simple. The difference in standard between domestic and international cricket was colossal.
I batted only once in that first Test match, which ended in a draw, and in the following days I approached our coach, Chandu Borde, and a number of senior team-mates to discuss what I needed to do to improve. I had a long chat with Ravi Shastri, already an established star at the time, who advised me to be patient for the first fifteen or twenty minutes, which were bound to be uncomfortable. Ravi was of the opinion that once I had played out the initial burst from the Pakistani bowlers, things would turn easier. The key was to spend time in the middle. But would I be given another opportunity to do so? I could easily have missed out on the second Test, not only because of my low score in the first but also because of the way I had batted.
It came as a huge relief to see my name in the playing XI for the second Test at Faisalabad.
Second Test, Faisalabad, 23–28 November 1989
I knew it was a chance I could not afford to squander; it would be a big test of my ability and temperament. What made the task considerably more difficult was that Pakistan won the toss on a green-top and put India in to bat. The stage was set. All through my career I have relished these moments of adversity. It is no good just performing on a docile track against weak opposition. A cricketer gets true satisfaction only if he is able to perform in difficult conditions against the best bowlers.
Once again we lost early wickets and I went in to bat with four top-order wickets down for 101. This time around, although it really wasn’t my style then, I forced myself to stay at the wicket for the first fifteen minutes to get used to the conditions. I have no qualms about confessing that it was difficult. The bowlers were definitely on top at the start of my innings, but with time things turned easier. I was able to adjust to the pace and bounce of the wicket, and my confidence was gradually coming back.
I managed to play 172 balls en route to my first half-century in Test cricket and was finally dismissed by Imran for 59. I was involved in a 143-run partnership with Sanjay Manjrekar and though I hit only four boundaries, the innings gave me a lot of satisfaction. It also taught me a good lesson: there was no point in trying to blaze my way through every innings. Most importantly, this knock convinced me that I could actually cope with international cricket, though I knew I still had a lot to learn. In the second innings I ran myself out for eight, sacrificing my wicket for Mohammad Azharuddin, who was nearing a well-deserved hundred. In the end, we managed to thwart a Pakistan victory. After two Tests the series was still drawn and it was evident that Pakistan were feeling the pressure. Many had predicted a 4–0 scoreline in their favour and it was starting to play on their minds.
Third Test, Lahore, 1–6 December
My stay at the crease was short and not sweet. I had lasted only twenty-four balls, at least half of which I had missed. I had hit two boundaries but not for a moment had I felt comfortable. It was only a matter of time before I was dismissed. I was finally bowled for a rather lucky 15 by another debutant, Waqar Younis, and on my way back to the pavilion my mind was riddled with self-doubt.
It was a very important moment in my career. I had come to the international stage after blazing my way through domestic cricket. I had managed to score a hundred on debut in the Ranji and Irani trophies, but here I was on the international stage unable to put bat on ball. I was struggling, plain and simple. The difference in standard between domestic and international cricket was colossal.
I batted only once in that first Test match, which ended in a draw, and in the following days I approached our coach, Chandu Borde, and a number of senior team-mates to discuss what I needed to do to improve. I had a long chat with Ravi Shastri, already an established star at the time, who advised me to be patient for the first fifteen or twenty minutes, which were bound to be uncomfortable. Ravi was of the opinion that once I had played out the initial burst from the Pakistani bowlers, things would turn easier. The key was to spend time in the middle. But would I be given another opportunity to do so? I could easily have missed out on the second Test, not only because of my low score in the first but also because of the way I had batted.
It came as a huge relief to see my name in the playing XI for the second Test at Faisalabad.
Second Test, Faisalabad, 23–28 November 1989
I knew it was a chance I could not afford to squander; it would be a big test of my ability and temperament. What made the task considerably more difficult was that Pakistan won the toss on a green-top and put India in to bat. The stage was set. All through my career I have relished these moments of adversity. It is no good just performing on a docile track against weak opposition. A cricketer gets true satisfaction only if he is able to perform in difficult conditions against the best bowlers.
Once again we lost early wickets and I went in to bat with four top-order wickets down for 101. This time around, although it really wasn’t my style then, I forced myself to stay at the wicket for the first fifteen minutes to get used to the conditions. I have no qualms about confessing that it was difficult. The bowlers were definitely on top at the start of my innings, but with time things turned easier. I was able to adjust to the pace and bounce of the wicket, and my confidence was gradually coming back.
I managed to play 172 balls en route to my first half-century in Test cricket and was finally dismissed by Imran for 59. I was involved in a 143-run partnership with Sanjay Manjrekar and though I hit only four boundaries, the innings gave me a lot of satisfaction. It also taught me a good lesson: there was no point in trying to blaze my way through every innings. Most importantly, this knock convinced me that I could actually cope with international cricket, though I knew I still had a lot to learn. In the second innings I ran myself out for eight, sacrificing my wicket for Mohammad Azharuddin, who was nearing a well-deserved hundred. In the end, we managed to thwart a Pakistan victory. After two Tests the series was still drawn and it was evident that Pakistan were feeling the pressure. Many had predicted a 4–0 scoreline in their favour and it was starting to play on their minds.
Third Test, Lahore, 1–6 December
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