On the first evening of the first Test in the Caribbean, when it was well past Indian newspaper working hours, the television in the news hall had a clutch of interested viewers watching an exhibition of what can be termed the unadulterated joy of cricket.

The protagonist was none other than Harbhajan Singh, who at most times is the antithesis of the careworn Test player.
In every stroke of his could be seen an expression of the sheer thrill of playing the game. At this stage in his career, Bhajji is the last of the recognised batsmen in India’s long list of batting supermen. Six of seven before him had perished, either out of not being settled into the switch in format as in the case of Murali Vijay or from lack of serious cricket for a while as with Laxman and Dravid.
The skipper may have perished to the pitcher syndrome — the vessel that goes once too often to the well tends to fall in. Young Virat Kohli was just stepping up the plate to Tests and he had no clue as to how to leave a ball well alone, which is a perfectly legitimate strategy in the longest form of the game.
The cream of India’s batting was back in the hutch in a trice, leaving Bhajji to restore the pride.
There is something different about Harbhajan. He can be like a jack in the box at the batting crease but he is not so non-malleable that he has not learnt from so many innings.
His most recent form resulted in two classy centuries — the first somewhat nervously compiled, the performer being well aware that he had to get past the landmark at least once in his career and the second a polished effort made in the manner of someone who knew his own game well.
At the Sabina Park, a venue where Indian batsmen have traditionally struggled and where Team India have been victorious only once in history, Harbhajan batted in the classical mould, as if he were a specialist who knew he could restore normalcy by just displaying his skills regardless of the team situation.
While seniors had been driving on static feet against the leg spin of Devendra Bishoo — would you believe that a leggie from the Caribbean could play the cat among the pigeons — Bhajji got well behind the leg breaks on a dynamic back foot.
As he unleashed marvelously uninhibited strokes to all parts of the ‘wagon wheel’ as today’s graphic technology calls it, it was clear here was a cricketer enjoying himself. He was willing to trust his eye and play his shots without paying the kind of discretion that could be terribly inhibiting.
Too many in the batting order may have taken themselves too seriously. The careworn perished as the pitch played a few tricks before it lost its damp. But then the world’s top Test side are supposed to take themselves very seriously in the theatre of five-day cricket.
It is the triumph of the free spirit like that of Bhajji which helps relieve the tedium of keeping a late night eye on the telly to watch pictures out of an empty stadium so devoid of atmosphere this could have been a college ground in some remote Indian town. The leggie was dispatched with a type of unrestrained aggression that sees their bowling come off the hinges. The quicks were put away with élan, gliding off the hips to fine leg or smashing through cover with a glint in the eye at the sighting of a half volley.
Thank heavens such free spirits still exist in a game that prides itself on its professionalism these days.