Mohali, first Test, day 1
Monday, December 3, 2001

After all the dilly-dallying we sort of forgot. Forgot that in India spinners are something rather special. And that English tailenders are not exactly well furnished to do anything about them.

Perhaps it wouldn't have been very romantic - England 300 for 5 at the close, Kumble and Harbhajan 0 for 100. But England didn't have time for rhapsodising, they were too busy panicking as they lost 6 for 14 and Harbhajan spun his way to 5 for 6 in 7.3 overs, including three dropped catches, on a non-spinning pitch.

Turbanator, Bhaji, call him what you like, this is a man who has had a lipsmacking 12 months, even allowing for a few off days in Sri Lanka and South Africa. When James Foster stuck out his leg like a sandbag, Harbhajan notched up 50 wickets for the year - including 32 of the 41 to fall in the rout of Australia.

But his mountainous highs haven't been without their foothills. After completing the ultimate cricketing fantasy of bursting the Australian ego, he returned briefly to normality. In Sri Lanka and Zimbabwe earlier this year he was handed the unfamiliar kookaburra ball and his flexible fingers just couldn't get to grips with it.

Today, back on home soil, at his home ground, where they dance the bhangra at lunchtime, and armed with the scarlet SG ball with its friendly pronounced seam, he ascended again to mythical status.

He bowls like Anansie - all long spindly arms and twitching, twitching fingers for that fizzing straight-on delivery which is an arm ball de luxe. At the end of his run he twirls the ball with the aplomb of the champion chef peeling jersey potatoes. And he bounds to the crease with the skip of a girl on the way to Sunday school. There is energy in every nudge, stare and grimace.

And also aggression. Harbhajan bristles like the stereotypical Punjabi - he glared at Hussain when he dared to cut him, and he was chucked out of the Indian academy for complaining about the food. And he operates as much on reputation as Shane Warne. As the day went on, England resorted to prodding at him as if he was serving up anthrax, not five-and-a-half ounces of stitched leather.

The crowd here love him - shouting his name, applauding whenever he as much as glances at the ball in the field. Their emotions are seconded by Sourav Ganguly, who might never have had him in his arsenal against the Aussies if he hadn't pushed the selectors to add him to the squad.

For years, with apologies to the odd Kapil or Anil, India has meant batting. Tendulkar, Ganguly, Dravid, Laxman. To listen to the crowd as Harbhajan docked England's tail, and Kumble reasserted himself at the other end, was to think that this is a new era: one when, just like in Australia and Sri Lanka, it is the spinner who empties the bar.

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

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