Wellington must have done something to upset Mother Nature. On Saturday evening the city was shaken by an earthquake that measured 5 on the Richter scale. Then came a thunderstorm of biblical proportions. And today there was the wind. It's hard to overstate just how bone-chillingly fierce the Wellington wind can be. From the sanctuary of the press box, your only clue is the billowing sea of Pohutukawa trees beyond the ground at the Government House end, plus a few flimsy flags hanging onto their poles for dear life. Out in the middle, it's another matter. Bowling into the wind at the Basin Reserve is a bit like the 13th labour of Hercules – the one he drew the line at.

In theory then, New Zealand's feat of skittling India for 161 was nothing short of heroic. Except that India – with the shining exception of Rahul Dravid – were appalling. Seven of them fell to bowlers chugging into the wind, and only Dravid passed 20. Quite simply, the wrong team was blown off course.

Sunil Gavaskar, here as a TV commentator, shrugged his shoulders as he tucked into a lunch of rice and pasta with the score on 51 for 4. "It was windier in 1976," he said. That was the year the Wellington weather gave Bishan Bedi hypothermia, although Gavaskar was keener to reminisce about another painful story.

"One of us was hit on the head fielding at short leg by Lance Cairns. He was carried off on a stretcher. The thing was, his wife was in hospital in India at the time expecting their child. She was listening on the radio, and calls from India took three or four hours to get through in those days. Imagine – you're about to give birth, your husband is hit on the head, and you can't even get hold of him." Gavaskar paused for a mouthful of tagliatelle, then added with a grin: "That man was me."

Humour was in short supply in the morning as a crowd of less than 3000, some of them under blankets, shivered dutifully on the grassy banks that surround about a third of the ground. Two boys wore Santa hats (and received an early Christmas present when Daryl Tuffey nipped one back through Virender Sehwag's defences in the second over), and there was a group of ersatz umpires to pass judgement on Asoka de Silva's lbw decision against Sachin Tendulkar (far too high).

But there was a low-key feel at a ground that has undergone cosmetics since England were here in March. The quaint old scoreboard, which used to resemble a poison-pen letter written by a five-year-old, has given way to a giant bottle-green magnet that sometimes even gets the score right.

There's also a big screen, which allowed the small but vocal Indian sections of the crowd to boo when the dismissal of Sanjay Bangar – given out caught behind as he tried to sway out of the way of a Tuffey lifter – was replayed ad nauseam, but still failed to convince anyone that he had actually touched it. The covers are new too, and apparently the whole place had been given a fresh lick of paint. But John Wright, who gritted out an entire day for 55 on Test debut here 25 years ago, was in no mood to appreciate the decorations as he watched his Indian side throw it away.

Only Dravid put a decent price on his wicket, which will come as no surprise to anyone who saw him hold England to ransom earlier this year. He played almost exclusively through the off side: the nine boundaries in his three-hour fifty all came in the arc between third man and extra cover. And, one or two uncharacteristic wafts apart, he oozed solidity. Another layer of mortar for The Wall.

If someone had stayed with him, India might still be batting. But this was not a day for logic or reason. As New Zealand crawled to 34 for 1 in reply, the public-address voice announced proudly: "New Zealand's highest score against India is 502 at Christchurch in 1967-68." The wind can do funny things to a man.

Lawrence Booth is a freelance cricket writer who shall be sending dispatches throughout this tour for Wisden.com.

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