The team was in dire straits: the economy rate was in the doldrums and the asking rate was mounting. However, the skipper was nonchalant as ever as he proceeded to take fresh guard. Chants of “MS, hai hai” now reverberated through the air. Even the commentariat’s mood had soured. “This is just not what the doctor ordered,” frothed an influential pundit. “He is playing like the night-watchman instead of the captain,” taunted Navjot Singh Sidhu, never one to miss an opportunity to rub it in.
The pitch was getting increasingly difficult to bat on but MS was not showing any signs of nervousness. Yuvraj, from the non-striker’s end, sauntered over to have a chat. “Are you sure things are under control?” he asked, the tension visible on his face. “Well of course, things are under control,” MS felt like saying. However, this was not the time for light-hearted banter. The need of the hour was stolidity and a stubborn obduracy. He was not going to let his colleagues or the Opposition know what was going through his head. In the dressing room, the knives were out for him.
The Opposition was now scenting blood and went for the jugular. A vicious reverse swinging yorker that he did well to dig out. Then a bouncer that nearly decapitated him. He ducked. His survival instincts were strong. After all, despite being a small town boy, despite lacking pedigree and despite not possessing the flamboyance of some his more colourful peers, he had made it to the top through sheer grit and a bit of luck.
However, it was no longer a question of survival at the crease. The well-being of a billion souls now hinged on him. He needed to score and score fast. Time was ticking away. The sledging and sniping had now started. Pundits were having a field day, ridiculing his demenaour, stance, and body language. The fate of the match seemed sealed. Scribes began to write obituaries of his career in anticipation of a heavy defeat.
His stay at the crease now seemed to stretch into decades, if not years. There were only a few minutes left now before the innings would end. It was all but over. MS signaled for a new bat. He swung his arms, took a deep breath, and then signed off on a slew of reforms: dismantling of FDI caps across key sectors, removal of barriers to trade, deregulation of key sectors of the economy, PSU divestment, stringent adherence to fiscal discipline, tax reforms…the works.
Then, pen swirling in his hand as he signed the last of the executive orders to ‘reform’ the economy, Prime Minister Manmohan Singh peered into the cameras and said, “Theek hai?”