Variety is the spice of life

The first thing you feel upon landing in Bangalore from Mumbai on an early October morning is the crispness of the air. It's not the not the biting chill that singes your skin on a December morning in Delhi, but a pleasant, sensuous waft of cool breeze that tingles your senses. Bangalore is the garden city no more; trees have lost their battle against automobiles: cars pump out much more carbon monoxide than the oxygen trees can generate. The air is heavy with smoke, the roads are choked with cars, bikes and auto-rickshaws, and there is even a hold-up caused by a few buffalos, ambling across with the nonchalance only they can summon, but to those condemned to a winter-less existence, the cool mornings of Bangalore are a blessing.

But like elsewhere in the world, weather patterns have been changing in Bangalore. Twenty years ago, fans, let alone air-conditioners, used to be a redundant accessory most of the year; these days, you cannot do without an air-conditioned car. Rains come as they will. It rained a couple of days before this Test. When England were here in December 2002, it rained on most of the days during the Test, ruining it - and when play was possible, it swung and seamed, helping the English bowlers skittle India out for 238.

Much talk has already centred on the pitch for this Test. It is a whitish brown, almost Sharjah-like, and looks deceptively hard from a distance. But eight overs into the match, it is difficult to imagine a mode of dismissal for the pace bowlers without reverse-swing or batsmen collaborating. There is little bounce or carry, and after four pedestrian overs from Zaheer Khan, Harbhajan Singh is introduced in the ninth over. Australia have won a good toss because the pitch could become a minefield by the third day. "It's back to the dark ages," whispers a colleague in a conspiratorial tone.

Is it? We have come to know this era as the golden age of batting - of flat, even, uniform pitches which abet plunder. Pitches have gone dead in West Indies, in South Africa; when India were in England last, barring Headingley, the pitches did not aid seam; when they were in Australia last, the ball did not zip; and in India's last home series against New Zealand, the ball did not turn. In an age when the cost of television rights are counted by the number of match days, it pays to make pitches that ensure five days of cricket. International cricket has thus turned in to one mega batting-fest: the contest is as unequal as a bullfight where the bull's horns have been sawn off. A departure from the norm is frowned upon and considered unhealthy.

A significant feature of the recent Champions Trophy, a nondescript tournament otherwise, was the manner in which the bowlers dominated the proceedings. It was significant that apart from the matches involving the minnows, no team won batting first. Admittedly the conditions, with overnight rains and heavy cloud cover, were tough in the first hour. But as Barry Richards, a master of the English conditions in his pomp, was prompt to point out, batsmen find runmaking so easy these days that most of them have simply not acquired the skill, or the temperament, to graft and survive.

On India's last tour of Australia, the ball swung around on the second day of the first Test at Brisbane, and Australia lost seven wickets in less than 11 overs. The sun blazed through the rest of the Test series, and batsmen blossomed on some of the flattest wickets ever seen in Australia. India then came across a flyer at Perth in the one-day series and came undone. India's batting was spectacular throughout the Test series, but we never had a chance to find out how good they were because they were never tested at Perth.

Cricket's greatest asset is its rich and varied texture. The game derives its flavour from the conditions unique to every country. The ball must swerve and seam in England, it must fly off the pitch in Australia, it must get scuffed up and reverse viciously in Pakistan, and it must turn sharply in India and Sri Lanka. Some of these pitches will be flat, some will be tough to bat on, and some will be absolute stinkers. And nobody should complain. Would winter be so special in these parts if it were always winter?

Sambit Bal is editor of Wisden Asia Cricket and Wisden Cricinfo in India. His Indian View will appear here every Thursday during the Indian season.