Sunday, December 2, 2001 Yesterday, in the cool shadows of a Punjab afternoon, India were practising. One stand overlooks the nets and leaning across the top of it were a group of policemen in red and blue turbans and ten teenage boys who had been playing behind the stadium. Down on the ground were cameramen and journalists, and young net bowlers in white. Two hundred pairs of eyes, all focussed on one figure.

He was small and swarthy and wearing a blue tracksuit and cap, so that practically nothing of his face could be seen. But once he lifted his bat he was unmistakably Tendulkar - all grace and pugnacity. "He has the best technique in the world," said one of the boys quietly. "He is the best player in the world," whispered another. He lifted a ball from Sarandeep Singh high out of the nets, over the stand and onto the outfield where a scramble broke out to fetch it. But it wasn't pocketed, just proudly returned for further pummelling.

There is only one possible rival to Tendulkar – the Mohali ground itself. Only nine years old, it is like a swirling bowl of artificial trifle, blocks of multi-coloured seats – turquoise, green and yellow circle a perfect outfield, lovingly ironed by the curator. Eighteen floodlights, which could be switched on tomorrow, stand like spatulas - smaller than usual because of the low-flying aircraft that buzz the ground three times a day.

The day before the match, work is still being done. Two thousand pots of flowers, pink roses and wallflowers, are arranged. A final coat of paint is added to the stands, orange chairs slide out on to the terraces, drummers and dancers in bare feet practise their routine on the outfield. Tomorrow, the ground known as IS Bindra's Taj Mahal will embrace a series that, almost unbelievably, is finally about to happen.

Tanya Aldred, our assistant editor, is covering the whole of England's Indian tour for Wisden.com.

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