THANK YOU VIRAT

For 60 overs of hell and 14 years of heaven- how one man changed a nation’s perception of itself.

And just like that, the day I feared most as a cricket fan has arrived.
Virat Kohli, the man who reignited Test cricket in our hearts, has signed off. No grand farewell, no final swan song in the format he loved most. The format that was slowly fading, until he breathed life back into it, reigniting a passion in a generation that once only craved the rush of T20s. Kohli made us fall in love with matches that stretched over five days—each day a test of patience, grit, and spirit. Each ball an opportunity to prove your character. Now, with his departure, international Test cricket seems to be gasping for air, searching for a new pulse.

But what was it about this man that made an entire generation set aside its love for the fast-paced, instant gratification of T20s and instead, embrace the drab, long-drawn, and commitment-heavy format of Test cricket? Let’s dig a little deeper.

For one, it helped that Virat—India’s biggest superstar—never shied away from proclaiming his deep passion for Test cricket. He never hesitated to speak about how much the format meant to him, how much performing in whites—more than any other format—drove him. And we all know, when someone with a voice as powerful as his speaks with such conviction, a billion ears listen. The ripple effect is inevitable: the passion becomes contagious. He made a generation believe in the beauty of the game’s slow burn, in the art of resilience and perseverance, instead of the fleeting fireworks of the T20 format.

But passion alone is never enough to keep a nation hanging on to every moment you spend on the field. To captivate millions, you must perform. You need to touch greatness, to lead, and above all, to leave the game in a better place than you found it. And Virat did all of that.

After a rocky start to his Test career, Virat was on the brink of being dropped. With India already trailing 3-0 in a 4-match series in Australia, it was reportedly decided to keep him for the final match in Adelaide. A decision that, more than the Indians, the Australians now reflect on wistfully. In a losing cause, Virat made a century. His first of many at Adelaide and his first of many in the toughest hunting ground for any overseas batsman, Australia.

After several impressive knocks in the years that followed, the 2014 tour of England marked what Virat called the lowest phase of his career. James Anderson had his number, and he averaged just 13. The weight of expectation, the relentless scrutiny, and the biting criticism were all aimed at him. The knives were out, and a return to Australia later that year seemed like a daunting challenge.

2014 was the tour when Virat truly made Australia his own. He scored 692 runs, with 4 centuries in as many matches. India lost the series 2-0, but Virat gave us one of the most iconic battles in Indian Test cricket history.

Virat stood as captain in Melbourne under immense pressure, India a few wickets down, trailing by a significant margin. Mitchell Johnson, the towering Australian fast bowler, was bullying the best of batsmen with both his craft and intimidation. He began to target Virat.

As a 21-year-old, having grown up watching many Indian batsmen buckle under the pressure of both the game and the relentless sledging, I was certain of what would follow. Yet, the next hour remains one of the most vivid cricketing memories of my life—one I was fortunate enough to witness live. A young Indian batsman, fighting not just for runs but for respect, started counter-attacking the world’s best side, on their own turf. Cover drives, pull shots, intense running between the wickets—all interspersed with Virat’s own verbal jabs at the bowler.

In one fiery moment, Johnson hit Virat on the leg with a throw. The intensity of the rage in his eyes was something to behold. In another, when the infamous Aussie crowd began heckling him relentlessly, Virat gave them the finger. It may not have been the most admirable behaviour, but as an Indian, it felt like a declaration. A declaration that we had arrived, and we no longer needed to bow to those who didn’t respect us. He said in that series, “It doesn’t matter what the target is, we will play to chase, not for a draw.” That was just a glimpse of what was to come.

Pretty soon, he was officially India’s captain, and what followed was nothing short of sheer dominance. A series win in Sri Lanka after 22 years. The first time India won two Test matches in the West Indies. Virat was the captain who made the unthinkable possible. A nation, once dominated by batsmen and spin bowlers, now had the world’s best fast bowling attack. Bumrah, Shami, Bhuvneshwar, Ishant Sharma’s second coming, and Siraj—all of them were cultivated under Kohli’s leadership. He insisted that for India to consistently win abroad, they needed quality fast bowlers, and that belief transformed the entire pace attack.

The weight of captaincy did not slow him down; it ignited him. He dove headfirst into what I believe was the greatest peak any cricketer has ever known, from 2016 to 2018. Six double centuries in 18 months and seven in total. India won nine series in a row—an incredible, record-equalling feat. In 2018, Virat Kohli was named Men’s ODI Player of the Year, Men’s Test Player of the Year, Men’s Cricketer of the Year, and captain of both the Test and ODI teams of the year. His supremacy during this period was undeniable—he returned to England to top the run charts and, astonishingly, didn’t get out to James Anderson even once.

Then came the unforgettable 2018-19 tour of Australia. Virat became the first Asian captain to win a series Down Under—an achievement no Indian, growing up, would have dared to believe possible. But Virat didn’t just play the game, he redefined it. In 2021, during India’s tour of England, he delivered a line that will forever echo in Indian cricket history.

With India on the verge of defeat at the start of the final day, in typical Virat fashion, the team refused to give up. The tail was batting, and Bumrah and Shami’s crucial partnership gave India a lead of over 250 runs. With 60 overs left, the natural assumption was that the match would end in a draw. But Virat Kohli doesn’t do draws. As the huddle convened before England’s innings, Virat looked his team in the eye and said, “For 60 overs, they should feel like hell out there.” As you can imagine, India not only won the game but took a 2-1 lead in the series, in classic Virat Kohli style. Under his captaincy, India never merely sought to compete—they sought to dominate, to leave no room for complacency, to make every moment count, every session a battle to win.

Virat Kohli resurrected Test cricket when no one thought it possible. His brilliance didn’t just captivate a nation—it ignited a fire in a billion hearts. From the lowest of lows to the highest of highs, we followed his every move. Just two days after my wedding, I was awake at 5 AM, glued to the screen, watching him bat. Every ball was a conversation, every run a victory, every dismissal a personal loss. We didn’t just watch him; we lived through him. And when the opposition took a wicket, we didn’t look at the bowler, but at him—because his passion was what we wanted to see.

He gave us something priceless—a belief in our worth. He showed us that we would no longer be treated as lesser by the world. He made us stand tall, not just in cricket, but in every aspect of life.

To see him in whites with that blue blazer, walking out for the toss, was to see a warrior stepping into battle. And that’s exactly what he demanded of his team—fight, for every moment of the next five days. Virat didn’t just want to lead India in Test cricket; he wanted to make us a global force. And he did. His final Test came in Australia, a nation he’d conquered in every format—a fitting end for the man who turned a hostile land into his home. This was the kid from Delhi, who thrived on the battle, and who once said, "You hate me, and I like that."