'Such things happen, and not everything deserves a reaction. I played and played well and that's what matters'
A fascinating excerpt from Puja Pujara's book, The Diary Of A Cricketer's Wife.
India lost the second Test at Perth by 146 runs, despite Virat Kohli's century in the first innings.
It was Australia's first victory since its match in Durban earlier that year.
Cheteshwar struggled during the match as his afflicted hamstring was now really troubling him.
But I was battling a bigger worry. How was I going to tell Cheteshwar that his father needed a heart ablation procedure? Nothing seemed to be going right.
My father-in-law needed medical attention, my husband was sporting a limp thanks to his aggravated hamstring after the game at Perth and I still had not told him about Papa's impending ablation.
I finally broke it to him when he reached Melbourne. The team had a tiny break between matches and I knew that I could not keep him in ignorance any longer.
He took it on the chin and agreed with me: There was no point in delaying the procedure till his return.
We settled between us that Papa and I would travel to Mumbai and the procedure done as quickly as possible.
Christmas was round the corner and the earliest date we could get for the procedure was 3 January as the doctor was off on a vacation for the festive season.
In the meantime, Cheteshwar made the most of his three-day break and did not step out of his room much.
He alternated between resting his afflicted limb and getting his strained hamstring treated.
On the lone occasion when he did, he overheard someone engaged in an intense conversation on the telephone, stating that he did not want my husband to play in the coming match because he was unfit.
It was an unpleasant incident. But Cheteshwar gave no sign that he had accidently become privy to the said exchange. Neither did he tell anyone about Papa's medical condition.
I only learnt of the incident accidentally on Cheteshwar's birthday after the tour was over.
It was around half-past-two in the afternoon, the lights were off and the room was quite dark.
Aditi was napping and Cheteshwar and I were reclining on our bed as I scrolled through our social media pages reading out birthday greetings.
One message posted on Instagram was particularly effusive and touching.
I read it out aloud to Cheteshwar, remarking, 'Such a sweet gesture -- what a lovely message!'
There was complete silence. He did not say a word. Puzzled, I looked up from my phone and caught a most peculiar expression on Cheteshwar's face -- one that was simultaneously secretive and pitying.
I had no trouble translating his mien -- it was his vintage you're-so-naive-and-trusting look. I had seen it before and was therefore quite familiar with it.
My antenna went up at once, and I immediately sensed that something was not right.
'What's wrong,' I asked.
'Nothing,' he said, at his taciturn best.
But I was not buying it. I knew quite well that when Cheteshwar went completely quiet, it usually meant he was concealing something.
It was a frequent occurrence. I usually learnt of on-field gossip and politics from other players' wives, never from him.
Throughout my marriage, Cheteshwar's description of his various trips had been limited to three unvarying sentences: 'We had practice, a team meeting and then I returned to the room.' Day in and day out, year after year, I had been treated to the same standard lines.
He was ready to talk about everything but his professional life. There were times when I would wonder if he even knew what was happening in the world around him.
But in this instance, I was not about to let him clam up on me.
'Tell me,' I pestered. He tried to fend me off, but I was nothing if not persistent and I finally wore him down.
'This guy you're praising,' commented Cheteshwar laconically, 'wanted me to be dropped from the team because of fitness issues.'
I gaped at him.
'Why didn't you tell me earlier? Why did you go through it alone?'
'Such things happen,' he shrugged, 'and not everything deserves a reaction. I played and played well and that's what matters. You don't need to dwell too much on the incident. But it's important that you learn not to trust everything that takes place on social media.'
'I'm a work in progress, remember?' I joked, throwing back one of his favourite lines at him in an attempt to lighten the atmosphere and veil my outrage. 'You need to mentor me.'
The Boxing Day Test was quite thrilling. Cheteshwar scored a century in the first innings almost as if he was sending out a message to his critic that he had plenty of cricket left in him.
India set a massive target of 443 runs for seven and made Australia toil hard for their 151 all-out when it was their turn to bat.
The Indian second innings appeared to be an exercise in widening the run target and both Cheteshwar and Virat were dismissed for ducks.
India piled on another 106 runs for eight and declared, setting the Australians a mammoth target of 399 runs for a win.
They were already eight down for 258 runs at the end of day four and it took India just over four overs to wrap up the match on the final day.
Cheteshwar had hit another century, India had won the match and was leading 2-1 in the series and even better, it had managed to retain the trophy even though it lost the next match.
Excerpted from The Diary Of A Cricketer's Wife by Puja Pujara with Namita Kala has been used with the kind permission of the publishers, HarperCollins India.
Feature Presentation: Rajesh Alva/Rediff
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