The Boy in Pink

He's only..

About a month and a bit back, as the promos for IPL’s eighteenth season reached their fever pitch, invoking all sorts of superhero imagery to go with the betting app advertisements, I focussed my attention on one particular species: the next generation. Purely by design - only four foreign players allowed in every lineup; ten teams to divide the massive domestic pool in - the IPL becomes a broadway stage for the young, the unproven, and the almost-theres. All standing at different distances from their magazine cover pictures, but everyone with a chance.

Yashasvi Jaiswal, 23, has been an arrowhead for Rajasthan Royals in the last three years. More recently, he has become a key cog in India’s Test team too. I wondered if this could be the season when we see a spacecraft soar into the stratosphere. Shubman Gill, 25, should’ve already set up base in the stratosphere by now. He’ll get there, eventually. There is too much magic dust around him for that potential to not realise into performance. Indian cricket has bet on him early - making him the vice-captain in ODI cricket, marking him as the heir apparent to the throne. He’s within an earshot of the conversation about the best white-ball batters in the world. Abhishek Sharma, 24, is standing at the threshold of becoming the definitive T20 opener for India. Last year’s IPL saw a jaw-dropping coming of age. Since then, he has shown flashes in India colours, but not proportionate with his talent. The time has come for him to become our Jayasuriya-lite.

Then there are the bowlers, a little further away from royal table-talk, but in the raffle pool for Indian cricket’s future. Ravi Bishnoi, 24, has slightly plateaued in the last year or so. India has the luxury of Axar and Kuldeep, but Bishnoi, when he gets going, is an excellent T20 bowler. Can Mayank Yadav, 22, string together ten consecutive matches? His bowling creates this beautiful contradiction in tempo: he glides to the crease as if wearing invisible roller skates, then launches 95-mile-per-hour missiles that make batters hop. But he’s rarely ever fit. Fingers crossed. For Arshdeep, 26, already somewhat established in the national setup, I nursed different dreams. Despite being India’s leading wicket-taker in the last two T20 World Cups, this season I wanted him to take those quantum leaps that would make him indispensable. Perhaps even an extension into Test cricket? Left-arm, quick, moves the ball - a shorthand for England, if the selectors are so inclined.

Let me cut to the chase: B to the O to the R-I-N-G. Bo-ring. These players are dinosaurs, yesterday’s news, ancient history. How are ya, gramps? Taken your meds today?

Okay, that was rude. These are all sparkling talents who make the IPL a spectacle worth giving away a month to. But, who cares? As my favourite Australian YouTuber often says, “What have you done for me lately?”

To be honest, that unnecessary jab wasn’t my only rude act of the week. On a windy evening in Bangalore, I was sitting at a cafe, amidst a couple of old friends, discussing college stories and new family members. For no fault of theirs, the cricket was, how do I say this, a bit more appealing. Look, I know, it’s not nice when you meet people after a decade and then keep twisting your neck to steal glances at the projector screen. But, how could I not? The boy in pink was treating an IPL match like a game of Stick Cricket¹. Between the catching up and the jokes, I couldn’t help interrupting with, “But he’s only...”

Suddenly, October-November 2024 felt like a phase from a different era. Vaibhav Suryavanshi had just become news. A thirteen-year-old was playing for the India under-19s. What? He had already played for Bihar in the Ranji Trophy. Excuse me? He scored a 58-ball century against the Australia under-19s. In the Vijay Hazare Trophy - India’s domestic 50-over tournament - he tonked Test seamer Mukesh Kumar for 26 runs in two overs. What is this, a Stranger Things episode?

A couple of weeks later, Rajasthan Royals picked him up for one crore and some change at the major auction. Sharda Ugra tells the story of his trials at Rajasthan Royals through the words of their high performance director, Zubin Bharucha.

After the RR staff watched Vaibhav for a few balls, the trials were stopped. The sidearm throwers were asked to crank the speeds up to 155kph. Zubin Bharucha described the scene then: “There was no change in how he approached the ball… in how much time he had on the shot from release point to connection time. No change… It’s not possible that he would have learned that or he would have been taught that. That is how he has been gifted.” Bharucha then went on to make what he knew was a big call: “He is probably second only to Tendulkar in talent, raw talent, that I have seen… There are other factors that will make him successful but if you ask just talent to hit a ball I think second to probably Tendulkar.”

Some weeks later, after advertisements where Dhoni mentioned his age, after his coaches were hounded with questions at every press conference, he was given a serious stamp of approval by captain Sanju Samson: Vaibhav was apparently at ease against Jofra Archer in the nets. Jofra is legitimately one of the most fearsome fast bowlers in the world. Seasoned international batters struggle against him; aren’t you stretching a bit with the ‘he’s at ease’? Sanju finished that interview with, “Tayyar hai.” (He is ready.)

Call me crazy, but I will take all the “Tayyar Hai”s from Sanju Samson and Rahul Dravid - whose cricket acumen I won’t doubt even if he floats an idea of playing Yo Yo Honey Singh as a Test opener - but when I see this chubby-cheeked, newly-minted teenager, wearing an oversized shirt, walking out to open in an IPL match against international bowlers, I am going to be uncomfortable. Shardul Thakur has taken a bloody seven-for in Test cricket, man.

I saw Vaibhav Suryavanshi’s eyes behind the helmet grill. They weren’t big and wide, trying to adjust to the glare from the floodlights and pink decal in the stadium. His eyes were soft, his face still. His stance was compact.

And then he lifted his bat for the backswing.

I am writing this on Brian Lara’s birthday, and it feels apt to discuss Suryavanshi. No, not in terms of ability or a potential career graph, of course not. I have constructed way too many monuments to Lara to ever compare him with any other batter. Besides, I am not Ravi Shastri. This is about the hands of an artist.

The first thing you notice with Lara is his backlift. Most great batters - Tendulkar and Kallis, for example - are economic. A small movement up and back, just enough to get power through the arms and sync the upper body with the lower. Ponting’s backlift was slightly exaggerated but still close to the body and symmetrical. Kohli, Root, Williamson - same territory. It helps to be efficient with your mechanics while facing 85-90 miles-an-hour rockets from 22 yards away.

Lara brought a bit of Daft Punk, a bit of dance, to this fugue and sonata convention. His bat went up, up, way above his head, almost where an umbrella would reach, and then traced a violent, beautiful arc back downwards. In defence and attack, Lara - a name with a rhythm of its own - made your senses groove². Amongst current batters, watch Harmanpreet Kaur, especially as she loads up to hit a big shot, and you’ll see the same cocking of wrists and a high backlift.

Off his first ever ball under the bright lights of international-quality senior cricket, Suryavanshi cocked his wrists, took his bat high, brought it down like a whip, and sent the ball sailing over covers. A shot that would’ve made Lara grin. We had liftoff. In the next over, the Lucknow SuperGiants sent Avesh Khan. Another six, this time over long on. The boy can play both sides of the wicket.

When Suryavanshi got out for a scarcely believable 34 against LSG, he was given a rousing ovation by the Jaipur crowd. Yashasvi Jaiswal, still without a stubble but now suddenly a grey-haired senior in this frame, went over and patted his back, even as tears began to form on Vaibhav’s eyelids. The Rajasthan Royals dugout stood up and clapped.

How far can he go?

That windy evening in Bangalore, as a peri peri sandwich with sriracha sauce spilling over landed on my table, I watched the Gujarat Titans line up with Mohammed Siraj, Prasidh Krishna, Ishant Sharma, and Rashid Khan - nearly 700 international appearances and more than a thousand international wickets between them. Surely not, right?

Siraj first. Six, down the ground.

Ishant Sharma was three years into his international career when Mrs. Suryavanshi told her husband that they were expecting a child. The defining highlight of his career peaked with a catch taken by Suryavanshi’s now-coach, Rahul Dravid. Seventeen summers later, here he was, bowling to someone who could well have been in the crowd, with wistful eyes and outstretched hands, pleading for an autograph or a selfie. Six, six, four, dot, six, four. Twenty six runs in six balls.

What are we watching? Source: IPL.com

Next over, Washington Sundar. Test cricketer, highly-rated. Six, dot, six, four. The sandwich can wait.

The sitting area at Maverick & Farmer Coffee is placed next to a FIFA-approved football turf. When South United Football Club are not training there, the turf is opened up for small-sized games that can go for anything between 1 and 2 hours. After a game, players come over to Maverick for a quick juice and snack. Someone in an Inter Milan jersey - great choice - walks past the tables but stops in front of the projector screen. He is panting, sweating, resting his hands on his knees. Another, probably from the same game, in a dark blue Manchester City kit - ugh - comes up next to him. I think I heard them say, “What the fu..” ...nevermind. Gatorade be damned, I guess.

Afghanistan international Karim Janat comes on to bowl. Six, four, six, four, four, six. Thirty runs in one over. Vaibhav Suryavanshi is on 94 off 34 balls.

I turn around, and pretty much everyone is looking at the screen. Good, at least I won’t be the only one going to etiquette jail tonight. There is a weird mix of tension and excitement, a collective holding of breath as history beckons from touching distance. My friend mentions something about my work but even she’s distracted by whatever is going on at Jaipur.

Rashid Khan has the ball. With 800 career wickets, he gets in easy on T20 cricket’s Mt. Rushmore. Sure, going through a bit of a dip post an injury, but still premium quality.

The IPL is in its eighteenth season. It has gone through 1152 games. In that time, 104 centuries have been scored. Do you know how many of these have been scored within 45 balls? Fourteen. Within 40 balls? Six. Within 35? One.

Until that moment.

Suryavanshi launches Rashid Khan beyond the mid-wicket boundary. Yashasvi Jaiswal lets him have his moment, and then hugs him. Rahul Dravid has leapt up from his wheelchair. Every single Gujarat Titans player comes over and pats Suryavanshi’s back. The Sawai Mansingh Stadium in Jaipur is roaring. There are loud claps at a random cafe in Bangalore too.

I was watching when Vaibhav Suryavanshi smoked his first ball in big league cricket for a six. But I watched that alone, at home. His next innings I watched at home too. But the one that broke the ceiling, stretched the boundary of what is possible, nevermind conceivable, I watched it at an open cafe along with about twenty five slack-jawed strangers.

Even ex-Australian captains can’t quite believe what they are watching.

For a long time, Sachin Tendulkar taking his international bow at 16 was incomparable for its insanity. It feels apt now for the high priest of batting, but it was surreal even then, well before his genius became common knowledge. Mithali Raj nearly matched it when, at just 14, she made it to the final selection round for the Women’s World Cup in 1997.

In terms of pure absurdity, Vaibhav Suryavanshi’s knock against Gujarat Titans sits next to them. His six against Shardul Thakur felt like a milestone moment by itself, but that century is now worthy of a page in the next book of Indian cricket history. And, as if the mind wasn’t blown enough, what turns it into a gooey mess are the signs, in bold lettering, revealing the depth of substance underneath the sizzle. Yeah, fair enough, tayyar hai.

Sharda Ugra sums it up.

“Even when this IPL is done, there will be no ignoring Suryavanshi. His ascent onto public notice is many Indian cricket things rolled into one. The most soulful of which has to be how news of prodigious young talent almost instinctively, automatically works the levers across Indian cricket. It’s like a Chinese whisper about ability in one corner of the country which emerges at the other end, completely accurate, pristine – even pure.”

1. Greatest. Game. Ever.

2. If you’re reading Lara, let me introduce you to an essay on his genius written by another genius.