There was a time when the subcontinent was mystery, assigned dark and
exotic shades. It was the land of the unknown, rendered even more so by
inventive prose. You got the feeling that visiting teams were waiting
for the unexpected, that, peculiarly, they expected it, and were almost
ready to succumb to it. Either they weren't aware of how to combat the
conditions or, more likely, they were just unwilling to. A tour to this
part of the world brought out the best in cricket writers, rarely in
cricketers.
A couple of days ago I saw two giant New Zealanders, they of the land
that had seemed beyond the unknown to us, understand the subcontinent
like it was their own. And it struck me that the mystique