From TOI

Nagpur:

At exactly 3.45 pm, with 22 overs still to go, the languid partnership between Sachin Tendulkar and VVS Laxman came to an abrupt end. By now, the VCA stadium, looking like a colossal but haunted spacecraft, had already yielded half of its light to shadows.
As the drinks trolley ambled towards the pitch, the yawns stopped midway and gave in to excited murmurs; but the stands, awash in their brand new blues, reds, greens and oranges, were depressingly empty. Maybe, cities don’t travel to their outskirts for Test cricket anymore.
Eventually, Sourav Ganguly stepped out of the players’ enclosure: he was fashionably late again. Luckily, it was the mandatory break and the clock was not ticking away; anyway, neither Steve Waugh was waiting nor Ricky Ponting frothing yet to spark up the moment.
Ganguly took a couple of slow and calculated steps and, like always, looked up towards the skies; he hunted out the sun, made eye contact. And blinked. Who knows this could be his last innings as India’s batsman; after all, there is no guarantee that there would be a second chance on this comatose pitch.
Suddenly, his walk picked up pace. Even from behind, he looked perkier than he has ever done; the muscles rippled in his half-sleeved shirt; the red bandana, symbolizing his fighting spirit, peeped out of his helmet. Clearly, he hasn’t stopped waking up early or working on his fitness yet. The empty stands miraculously found a voice and rah-rahed him.
Ganguly walked up to Tendulkar and exchanged a partners-in-crime smile. The little master-blaster, already into his nineties, was trying his best to gift another debutant his wicket. Luckily, he failed in both his attempts, and after a painfully long battle with himself, made it to his 40th Test century.
In the meantime, like always, Sourav tested the patience of the Aussies: he took his own time to study the pitch and to take guard. A slip, a silly-point and a forward shortleg surfaced in response. Luckily, it was the debutant spinner (Jason Krejza) on attack. Full ball, near his feet. No worries.
Next over, Mitchell Johnson attacked his leg side. But the track had already shown that it had neither pace nor bounce to lose any appetite for runs. Ganguly flicked it gingerly towards mid-wicket. Single. It wasn’t going to be the secondmost famous last match duck (assuming there is no second chance).
Three overs later, he flicks a full toss wide of mid-on. He makes a mad dash for a single, even though an easy one was there for the taking; well, he has never been a great judge between the wickets. Eventually, he punched one through covers, thumped the new ball to the squareleg boundary and lofted the spinners high into the air.
There was, however, no sign really of the divine drive, or magical timing. But as the shadows lengthened, serenity descended over him; he looked at peace with his batting and the footwork seemed sublime too. He stayed unbeaten on 27 at stumps, with India well poised at 311 for five.
Tomorrow is, of course, another day. We will surely see all the strokes, through the off and on, that made him so special over the years. He has this uncanny ability to convert a wonderful platform into a grand occasion too; so don’t be surprised if he does exactly that and makes his farewell Test truly memorable.