Cheteshwar Pujara: Against The Ballad Of Rockstars, He Sang Classicals

He just bats, bats and bats. That’s how Mark Howard once summed up Cheteshwar Pujara, and it couldn’t have been put better. In an age where strike rates and six-hitting power dominate headlines, Pujara brought back the forgotten virtues of patience, grit, and the sheer joy of occupying the crease. Harsha Bhogle captured it beautifully when he likened him to a classical singer performing in an era of rockstars. And now, with Pujara bidding farewell to Test cricket just a day ago, there could hardly be a better moment to reflect on the art, craft, and that quiet brilliance he gifted this game.

The art of facing a ball with a straight, dead bat — with absolutely no power and no hint of bat flow — is something we may scarcely witness again in modern cricket. It was Pujara’s signature, a reminder that defence itself can be as compelling as a cover drive. Equally unforgettable was his way of stepping out to spinners, not with the recklessness of sending the ball skyward, but with the precision of whipping it down the ground through mid-wicket, finding gaps that only he seemed to notice. These were not just strokes; they were expressions of a philosophy, of a man who believed that batting was as much about survival and discipline as it was about dominance. As I look back on more than a decade of watching him in the toughest conditions, it’s these little nuances — these quiet, stubborn acts of defiance — that I will miss the most.

From Father’s Lessons to Australia’s Fortress: The Rise of Cheteshwar Pujara

Pujara’s art of occupying the crease was instilled in him very early, and a great deal of credit goes to his father, Arvind Pujara — himself a former Ranji player — who drilled into him the belief that getting out is the worst thing a batter can do. That simple philosophy shaped Pujara into someone who could grind down bowlers and bat time like few others. It was almost as if he removed the very idea of losing his wicket from the equation the moment he walked in. His early days in cricket reflected the same mindset. Whether at the U-14 or U-16 level, he wasn’t content with mere hundreds; he loved converting them into “big daddy” scores — doubles and, on occasion, even triples. Imagine the patience and discipline it takes for a young boy to keep batting after 100, after 200, and still deny bowlers any easy wicket. That foundation of perseverance became the bedrock of his career.

This very bedrock of patience and perseverance enabled Pujara to scale the highest peaks of Test cricket. He went on to face more than 16,000 deliveries in the format, a testament to his unwavering resolve. None more iconic than the 2018–19 series in Australia, where he alone batted out 1,258 deliveries — still a record — and laid the foundation for India’s historic first-ever Test series win Down Under. It was vintage Pujara: wearing down world-class bowlers, refusing to give in, and quietly shifting the balance of an entire series through sheer endurance.

From Dravid’s Shadow to His Own Light

Batting at number three in Test cricket has always demanded immense discipline — the ability to blunt the new ball, to leave endlessly outside off stump, and to wait patiently for the rare bad delivery to put away. Pujara stepped into this position shouldering the weight of expectation, replacing none other than Rahul Dravid. It was a daunting void to fill, yet across 103 Tests, Pujara not only lived up to the challenge but also reinforced and enriched India’s batting legacy at number three, ensuring that the lineage of resilience continued unbroken.

After a long grind in domestic cricket, Pujara finally earned his Test debut against Australia in Bangalore. Life at the highest level showed him its extremes straight away — his very first innings ended when a ball kept low and trapped him in front. But Pujara was never one to panic or tinker with his methods after a setback. His first memorable knock, fittingly, came in the same match but in an uncharacteristic Pujara style. Walking in at number three during a tense chase, he took the attack to the Australian bowlers, scoring a brisk 72 off just 90 odddeliveries. That innings, bold and fearless, paved the way for what would become a remarkable Test career.

The Criticism, the Craft, and the Redemption

Cheteshwar Pujara’s greatest strength was also the reason he faced constant criticism. Throughout his playing days, he was often branded as a one-dimensional batter, lacking the power game needed to thrive in modern cricket. Reports and opinions flooded in questioning his longevity in the Test arena. Yet, when conditions grew tougher and batting became a grind, those same critics found themselves admiring the very trait they once dismissed — his single tempo, his refusal to abandon the art of patience and attrition. Cheteshwar Pujara wasn’t doing anything wrong; he was simply practicing an art that world cricket had almost forgotten.

Across 103 Tests, he amassed 7,195 runs, struck 19 centuries, faced over 16,000 deliveries, and played a role in 12 Test wins in SENA countries — the most by any Indian. Those numbers alone speak volumes of his calibre, but certain knocks will always stand apart. His century at Adelaide in 2018, the gritty 92 at Bangalore against Australia, and his unbeaten 145 against Sri Lanka in Colombo remain etched as special memories. That Colombo innings, where he returned to the side as an opener on a turning track and carried his bat through, was a rare feat in Test cricket. It reminded us, once again, of the immense value Pujara brought to the game — not in fireworks, but in endurance and unshakeable resolve.

As a cricket fan, I feel grateful that I had the privilege of watching Pujara bat for hours, inching forward with patience and persistence in an era defined by speed and power. He showed us that in the modern dynamics of the game, there was still beauty in restraint, still value in technique over muscle. Yet, with his departure, there lingers a fear — will we ever see this kind of craft again, or will it be lost in the dominance of power-hitting where batting is judged more by strength than by skill?

For all those countless hours at the crease, for the grit, the fight, and the memories — thank you, Puji Bhai. Wishing you the very best for your second innings.

(Image source- Twitter/ X Robin Uthappa)