The outcome wasn't entirely improbable, but it is hard for an Indian supporter not to be distraught over India's 0-2 loss to New Zealand in the Test series. Now there are two easy ways to cope with this: the expedient approach would be to blame the substandard pitches and the simplistic one would be to dismiss Indian batsmen as show ponies who can only do their dance when the floor is smooth and even. Both assertions will be true, but we will be doing Indian cricket a disservice if we left it at that. True, the pitches were loaded against batsmen, and the one at Hamilton was awful for a substantial period of time. It was obvious that the New Zealand cricket administration took its determination to stuff the Indians a little too far: wickets which turn batting into an impossible task, as on the second afternoon of the second Test, are as detrimental to cricket as the one in Colombo in 1997-98 which reduced bowlers to powerless arm-rolling zombies. A pitch on which 34 wickets tumble for 507 runs makes as much of a mockery of cricket as one that yields 1489 runs for 14 wickets. But if asked to choose between the two, which would you pick? The one that puts you to sleep in broad daylight, or the one that compels you out of bed at 3am?

Speaking tangentially, an infrequent dose of Hamilton, or for that matter a dusty mud-bowl that crumbles rapidly, can't be that bad for cricket. The modern batsman has it too easy and most Test runs these days come against mediocre to middling bowling attacks. This inflates Test averages and confers bogus greatness on batsmen whose skills and temperament are severely limited. It is good for cricket if the modern batsman is exposed to extreme adversity every once in a while, given a reality check, a reminder of his shortcomings. He needs to be stripped bare so that he can evaluate his true self and, hopefully, work on self-improvement.

The Tests in New Zealand should be a wake-up call, however rude, to most Indian batsmen. More than their failure to score, more than their timidity, more than their lack of application, it was frightening to witness their utter lack of ability. Barring Sachin Tendulkar, whose 32 in the second innings at Hamilton was a micro classic, and Rahul Dravid, who batted the longest in the series, no Indian batsman looked remotely international-class, even after the pitches had eased out relatively. Admittedly the conditions were difficult throughout, but to score 121 and 154 in the second innings betrayed serious ineptitude. Watching them bat, it is difficult to argue that Sourav Ganguly and VVS Laxman should have done better, because they couldn't have done better with their severe technical shortcomings against the moving ball. And please, can we all stop, once and for all, taking Virender Sehwag's name in the same breath as Sachin Tendulkar's?

The fear is that lessons will not be learned. One-day cricket, which puts a smaller demand on basic batting skills, is the biggest redemption ground for the contemporary Indian batsman and a few slam-bang knocks later, the Test-match horrors will be happily forgotten as a bad nightmare. And full normalcy will be restored when our batsmen resume the business of repairing their averages in the next home series.

Salvation is rarely attained without penance. But is penance possible without the realisation of failure?

Sambit Bal is editor of Wisden Asia Cricket and Wisden.com in India

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