An opening day set for magic, defined by illusions

The opening beats of a Test match in England can be a sensory overdose. The hum of anticipation rising from the terraces, the dissection of the toss decision, and then, just before the first ball, the solemn swell of Jerusalem. Add to that a sharp nip in the air for the 11 AM start, clouds hanging low like a false ceiling, and a slip cordon crouched in collective stillness. It's the stuff often romanticised about English cricket. And yet, it took until the fifth Test for all of it to finally arrive. The first four had played out under high sun, on firm pitches, in conditions better suited to bat than ball. This - gloomy, green, and loaded with possibility - felt like England at last.

The day brimmed with English magic, but it was illusions that defined the cricket. Oohs and aahs regularly echoed around The Oval on the opening day, every time the ball zipped past the bat, every time it died into the gloves. No one heard them more than Sai Sudharsan, because no one batted more than the 108 balls he did. He made just 38, and looked, if there was a consensus, like a batter permanently on the brink.

And that was the illusion. On a day when the ball swung and seamed more than on any of the previous 20 days in the series, India' s No. 3 quietly logged a control percentage of almost 80. Not even Shubman Gill, who seemed to middle most balls with that now-familiar crackle of a batter with 700-plus runs, managed that in his short 35-ball stay.

So what were all those gasps about? Mostly, perception and also viewing angles. Sudharsan walked out with what R. Sridhar, India's former fielding coach, frequently called the "hands in the pockets" technique, a phrase that is almost exactly what it sounds like. A method of keeping the bat, and the hands, tucked safely within the body's line, in the pockets of your trousers. No reaching, no flashing, no flirting outside off.

Of the 108 balls he faced, Sudharsan left 47, nearly half. But it never quite felt like that, because of how he left them. Once he decided he wanted nothing to do with a delivery, he brought his bat down early, with a slightly exaggerated swiping motion inside the line to tuck his bat behind his pad, a gesture completed well before the ball even arrived. The result? The ball whooshed past, the crowd responded with exclamations and polite claps for what they assumed was a near-miss. But Sudharsan was in control. He just didn't care to show it to the world.

He knew the conditions were loaded against him. That here, more than anywhere in the series, the "ball with your name on it" could appear at any moment, hiding behind good intentions. So he played only when absolutely necessary. A Surrey man himself, he trusted the bounce of the Oval pitch and engaged only with balls full enough and straight enough to threaten his stumps.

When they overpitched, he punched down the ground - 12 of his runs came that way. When they drifted onto his hips, he tucked them away past the tactically placed leg slip for another 10. Only when short and wide did he put his hands out of his pockets, cutting behind point for eight more. Ultimately, it was not just about survival but about scoring as many as possible before that ball arrived. It was what gave Gill the illusion of a run that was never quite there and cost his run-out.

Sudharsan was eventually undone by a ball he had to play at: full, straight, and then seaming away just enough to kiss the edge. It was a fair ball on a fair day, and it brought us to the other end of the illusion spectrum, where stood Josh Tongue.

This was a day built for the 27-year-old: heavy cloud above, a green gleam underfoot, the floodlights already on before lunch. England had won the toss and made the obvious choice. Tongue, returning to the XI after a break following the first two Tests, had the conditions, the freshness, and the nickname - "The Mop," for the way he cleaned up batting line-ups. It was all set up.

And for two moments, it clicked. He produced another ball, slightly shorter than the one that got Sudharsan but bursting through with similar venom, that squared up the in-form Ravindra Jadeja and found the edge. At that point, half of his nine overs had brought him 2 for 17. The other half were deliveries either wide outside off or down the leg side.

His final figures - 2 for 47 from 12 overs - don't scream disaster. But buried in them were 12 wides, and a lack of control that no wicket column could camouflage. In fairness, bowlers from the Vauxhall End did struggle for grip at the crease. But even with that allowance, the contrast within his spell was striking. The two deliveries that earned him wickets were outstanding. The rest left England chasing a mood they never quite sustained and runs that might just prove hard to score.

In that sense, Tongue was Sudharsan's mirror. One gave the illusion of trouble, the other of threat. One made onlookers think he was about to get out when he wasn't. The other made them believe he could run through a team when he didn't.

Illusion, in the end, was the currency of the day. England took six wickets; India made 204 runs. Even the visiting assistant coach, Ryan ten Doeschate, admitted it was hard to place where the teams stood after the first day. This score might already be enough, if the conditions stay this way. Or it might be hopelessly under-par, if London wakes up tomorrow beneath a beaming summer sun.

But at this stage of an English summer, even that might just be another illusion.