Harbhajan Singh didn't get out. He dug out a fine yorker from Glenn McGrath with an angled bat and ran two and India won a glorious win. This was a big moment because, as a nation teetered on edge, consumed by a chill, Harbhajan didn't feel it. If he did, he didn't succumb to it. Of course this did not herald some golden new dawn. But cynics who point to subsequent losses miss the point. The point was not that India became No. 1 or No. 2 or No. 3. The point was: nerve. Cynics ignore, too, the suggestions of a design over the past two years.

Teams have their own character, which they arrive at through their constituents, most notably the leader, and then on top of that there is a collective vibe. It goes beyond the sum of the elements; auras are intangible. Waugh's Australians are different from Taylor's, and not just because of Adam Gilchrist or Matthew Hayden.

India's personality has changed. It may be too weighty to suggest that Ganguly's lot have gone against the grain of the nation's entire history, but the past 15 years can safely be considered. India's last worthy team was the one that won in England in 1986. Since then, India have been nice, attractive (quite often), tolerant, chaotic, rudderless, soft, unprofessional, a one-man army (most of the time).

Abrasiveness they didn't have before. Perhaps a Manoj Prabhakar here or a Ravi Shastri there, but it was not an identifying characteristic. Tendulkar was, is, a symbol of excellence. But he was as revering as he was revered. Take Virender Sehwag. As Harsha Bhogle narrated in a recent column, when Sehwag was doing a TV chat with Sunil Gavaskar beside him, he had the – cheek, shall we call it – to state that Gavaskar was a batsman of that age, while he himself belonged to this one. This lot is not encumbered with the baggage of a toe-touching culture.

Contemporariness they didn't have before. Zimbabwe turned modern before them. India's one-day team now looks like it belongs to the times. The running is sharper, the fielding upto world standards. They even go to the gym nowadays.

Desperation they had before – but it was a different kind of desperation. It was a desperation that degenerated into panic, not a desperation that brought forth valiance. The differences between India's 300-plus run-chase against Pakistan in 1998, and the two 300-plus chases this year are instructive. The first came amid dying light, a flurry of edgy swirlers that were not caught or fell just out of reach, and generally overwhelming pandemonium. By comparison, the NatWest final and the Ahmedabad chase against West Indies were tidal waves whose increasing momentum brought with them a feeling of crushing inevitability.

The reason this team has raised hopes is because of what might come. The average age of the XI that won the NatWest Trophy was 25. That in itself is not a victory – the belief is that, now, under a professional management, they have the means to flower on.

The basics are already in place. Put together Sehwag, Harbhajan, Yuvraj Singh, Mohammad Kaif, Zaheer Khan, Parthiv Patel, and you get an amalgam of insouciance, ambition and mental toughness. They are refreshing because their skills go beyond the domain of traditional India. Yuvraj and Sehwag are not scholarly. They belt the ball with a primitiveness that is Pakistani. Kaif has the sharp hustle of a man who was left at birth by the gates of an Australian academy.

Zaheer Khan is coming to be treasured more and more, because he is an aggressive seamer, and India doesn't do those. He even has a good yorker, bowls well at the death, and doesn't get run-out when the heat is on. Harbhajan Singh, at 22, has done virtually everything that has been asked of him: he has constructed a Test-series win that still does not seem believable, taken two five-fors outside India in his last two series, conceded his one-day runs at just above four-an-over, jostled with Shane Warne for the highest wicket-taker this year, and added a sting to the tail. Patel has gotten better every day, given every indication of steel, and yes, he still qualifies for the Indian Colts.

Yet, the fearlessness of youth is a common theme throughout history, in and outside India, and in and outside cricket. No, New India doesn't mean Young India. Indeed, some major contributors to the New India are from another generation. But they have evolved.

Rahul Dravid is a fine example. Till two years ago, he was as accomplished a technician as anybody in the world. But you wouldn't bet on him to swing Test matches. You wouldn't bet on him even making the one-day side, let alone becoming one of its most critical components. Now he stands unparalleled, in India certainly, in the world, perhaps, as a man for a crisis. Somehow he came up to speed.

Tendulkar has changed, as batsman and in character, and the latter is significant. Two years ago in the ICC Knockout at Nairobi, perhaps the cathartic tournament for this side, he bit Glenn McGrath's head off with abuse. Who'd a thought?

Sanjay Bangar may or may not be a regular member for long but he too can claim to represent the New India. His greatest strength is knowing how to use his strengths. He is a mellow chap, but able to take pressure and adapt to situations. Understatedly, he is positive.

Sourav Ganguly is natural-born New India. He is guttural. His combativeness is unlike anything we have seen from an India captain in the last decade. He has led the way.

This Indian team, at the moment, is good. No more, no less. Despite no acceptable second, third or fourth seamer in sight, they reek of a promise – and promises are not always fulfilled. Five years ago Sri Lanka began a process of transformation that should have taken them towards the second rung of Test nations. Instead they have become even more toothless than India outside home. India themselves were spilling over with precocious skill in 1985, as Mohammad Azharuddin, Laxman Sivaramakrishnan and Sadanand Vishwanath joined Kapil and Sunny and company.

Then again, there was Australia, who at about the time Siva and Sadanand were stumbling towards oblivion, laid unshakeable foundations under a hard captain, a committed coach and a bunch of youngsters who gelled well together.

India's path is uncertain. Cynics will say nothing has changed, and they might be proved right. Believers are convinced that this is the real beginning. It is telling that both parties are taking note. Even sceptics are rarely stirred into action if there is nothing at all in the wind.

There is a slow change coming. India has found an edge, a fury, a flaming tip, to a passion that was all too passive.

Rahul Bhattacharya is an assistant editor with Wisden Asia Cricket and Wisden.com in India

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