“He killed us softy,” said New Zealand coach Mike Hesson, after the second day’s play in Indore. The reference here was to Virat Kohli and his magnificent double hundred, and within the knock, the fact that he had run 115 singles.

The scorecard will instead say that he hit 20 boundaries. But for an innings that spanned 366 balls, that is too few a number coming off the blade of one of the most feared batsmen in world cricket. Just 80 off the ropes, and the rest 131 by running hard – that’s how Kohli plays his cricket.

Watch him run between the wickets. Unlike other cricketers, the pads, gloves, helmet, et al, none of them seem a hindrance. The bat becomes an extension of his arm, an aid to run quicker. He looks an athlete, and is supremely fit, perhaps the fittest Indian cricketer ever. His frame is chiselled like a runner, not the long distance ones, but the ones who do power runs. He could be a 100-metre dasher, and yet he is a cricketer. A batsman who knows that running between wickets accentuates his fours and sixes, and not the other way round.

In essence, this is the way he bats in limited-overs cricket. He comes to the crease, looks to play a few deliveries and get set. In the meantime, he gets those singles going, rotating the strike quickly and with motive. Soon, he is into double figures without the opposition realising it, and then the big shots come out. The gears change, he picks acceleration and voila, you get another Kohli hundred in some ODI or T20I in any part of the world.

This Indore knock was borrowed from that blueprint, except that he never got out of third gear. He did the same in Antigua, sleepwalking his way to a double hundred in the Caribbean. He didn’t even play a shot in anger, such was the ease of his innings there.

That word ‘ease’ doesn’t apply herein. There was nothing laid-back about his knock, for New Zealand boast of honest cricketers, in terms of their conduct and more so, the effort they put in – individually and collectively – on the field. It could be seen in the manner they all ran across to congratulate him when Kohli was finally dismissed. Only then, they got down to celebrating his wicket.

That he didn’t get out of third gear wasn’t out of contempt, but regard for the opposition, that there were no easy runs on offer. In three innings prior in this series, Kohli had gone searching for those ‘easy runs’, only to squander his wicket away. Here, he didn’t cut down his shots, no. Instead, he buckled down and just batted. The Black Caps knew the value of this Kohli effort, and the earnest manner in which these runs were scored.

***

The day didn’t belong to Kohli alone though. In fact, it would be prudent to say that this was more Ajinkya Rahane’s moment.

All through the four-plus sessions they batted together, his partner had never looked in trouble, not a half chance given. At the same time, Rahane’s innings was beset with stutters on Saturday; unsure against spin and targeted by short stuff, he had somehow survived until stumps. It was really an innings of two halves. Sunday was the second chapter.

Matt Henry hit him on the helmet in the sixth over of the day. South Africa, New Zealand, England, Australia – after scoring runs everywhere for the past three seasons, there was no explanation really why Rahane was suddenly struggling here against this short ball ploy. But should there be an answer for everything? Perhaps that is the question to ponder upon.

A cricket fan never has the same experience twice. Maybe once he will get the best seat in the house, and it will rain. Some day he might sit in the sun all along, and get to watch the best batting or bowling display he has ever seen. It is the same for a cricket writer. Some days the words just flow, and sometimes, paragraphs on end don’t make sense. Why should it be different for the cricketers, the ones around whom our lives revolve?

Batting (or bowling) is about resolve, unlike simply watching or writing about it. At times, your technique will be tested, just like your line and length. It is about perseverance or quick thinking on your feet. As a batsman, Rahane has all of these traits, and this is why he was unbeaten on day one, and went on to play his best Test knock on day two.

There is tenacity about this Mumbai batsman that reminds us of a couple glorious ex-cricketers. There is no need to draw comparisons anymore though, for already he has shaped an identity for himself. Crisis man: check. Dependable: ticked off. Team man: you bet. India’s best Test batsman at present: surely.

From his horrific debut in 2013, to the superlative success he has enjoyed since in every part of the cricketing world, Rahane is your quintessential batsman borne out of experience. This knock only raised that ceiling further, encapsulating what batting in Test cricket is all about. And here, his words are necessary.

“Even when you struggle, it’s important to enjoy it. It shouldn’t be that you enjoy batting only when you are scoring runs freely; one should enjoy the manner in which you tackle the tough phase. What matters most is that you save your wicket. Let the ball hit the helmet or let it appear weird on television; all that doesn’t matter as long you are facing the next ball,” he said, after Sunday’s play.

Cricket, you say? Rahane could well have been talking about life.