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By:

Kiran D. Tare

21 August 2024 at 11:23:13 am

The Lady of Lord’s

Yastika Bhatia’s maiden Test century at Lord’s crowns the rise of an elegant wicketkeeper-batter who has quietly become indispensable to India’s new generation. Critics may say that there are flashier cricketers than Yastika Bhatia. She does not possess the raw power of a Smriti Mandhana or the aura of a Harmanpreet Kaur. She rarely dominates highlight reels or social media clips. Instead, she has built her reputation through reliability – a quality far more vital. At a time when white-ball...

The Lady of Lord’s

Yastika Bhatia’s maiden Test century at Lord’s crowns the rise of an elegant wicketkeeper-batter who has quietly become indispensable to India’s new generation. Critics may say that there are flashier cricketers than Yastika Bhatia. She does not possess the raw power of a Smriti Mandhana or the aura of a Harmanpreet Kaur. She rarely dominates highlight reels or social media clips. Instead, she has built her reputation through reliability – a quality far more vital. At a time when white-ball cricket prizes spectacle, the 24-year-old wicketkeeper-batter has become one of India’s finest practitioners of the understated virtues of timing, patience and composure. Bhatia’s 113 against England which powered the Indian women’s side to a historic win at Lord’s was not merely her maiden Test century but the first ever scored by a woman at cricket’s most celebrated venue. The innings helped India seal a comprehensive 270-run victory in the first women’s Test ever staged at Lord’s. Her hundred earned her a place on the Lord’s honours board, where generations of the game’s greatest names have been immortalised. Few entries have carried quite the same symbolism. Until now, no woman’s name had appeared there for a Test century because no women’s Test had ever been played at the ground. Bhatia’s career has mirrored the evolution of Indian women’s cricket itself. Born in Vadodara, she emerged through Gujarat’s domestic circuit at a time when opportunities for young women were expanding but remained far from abundant. A naturally gifted left-hander, she impressed selectors with a technique that appeared more classical than contemporary. Where modern batting often relies on innovation and improvisation, Bhatia’s game is rooted in balance. She plays late, favours placement over power and rarely appears rushed. Such attributes explain why coaches have long regarded her as especially suited to the demands of Test cricket, even though women are offered precious few opportunities to play the format. Modern wicketkeepers are expected to contribute almost as specialist batters while maintaining relentless concentration over long periods. Bhatia has embraced both responsibilities, becoming an important cog in an Indian side that has steadily shed its dependence on a handful of senior stars. That transformation has accelerated dramatically over the past year. India’s maiden Women’s ODI World Cup triumph marked a watershed for the sport, confirming that the country's women could finally translate promise into silverware. Although Bhatia missed that campaign after suffering an anterior cruciate ligament injury shortly before the tournament, her absence perhaps underscored her growing importance. Months of rehabilitation restored her confidence. If the World Cup represented the one that got away, Lord’s offered redemption. Returning to international cricket only recently, Bhatia produced an innings of remarkable maturity against England’s experienced attack. Her 113 came from 158 balls, balancing restraint with authority as India tightened their grip on the match. She admitted that six months earlier, while beginning rehabilitation, the idea of seeing her name on the Lord’s honours board would have seemed implausible. Those who know her were scarcely surprised. Former Indian wicketkeeper Kiran More, who has mentored Bhatia, has long spoken of her temperament rather than merely her talent. Scoring a century at Lord’s, he observed, is an ambition shared by virtually every cricketer. Achieving it after months away from the game simply reflected the resilience that had always underpinned her cricket. But hers was not a sentimental century assembled through fortune. It was a technically accomplished performance built on judgement outside off stump, crisp drives through the covers and the patience required by the longest format. It showcased precisely why Test cricket continues to matter. Unlike Twenty20, where brilliance can be compressed into a handful of overs, the five-day game rewards concentration accumulated over hours. For Indian women’s cricket, Bhatia’s century represents something larger than an individual milestone. It demonstrates the increasing depth of a side that is no longer defined solely by its biggest names. New heroes are emerging, backed by stronger domestic structures, better coaching and a professionalism unimaginable a decade ago. The honours board at Lord’s records statistics with characteristic restraint. It simply notes that Yastika Bhatia scored a century. Future generations may glance at the name without appreciating the path that led there. But Indian cricket will remember that the first woman to reach three figures at Lord’s was not merely making history. She was announcing that a new generation has arrived.

Whitewashing Damascus

America’s Syrian gamble rewards brutality, betrays the Kurds and reveals how cheaply Donald Trump trades in memory.

In the space of two days, Syria’s map has been redrawn with a speed and savagery that would have seemed unthinkable just a year ago. Government forces, backed by tribal militias of dubious pedigree, have pushed the Kurdish-led Syrian Democratic Forces (SDF) out of large parts of northern Syria they had controlled since the darkest days of the Islamic State. Raqqa, the former capital of ISIS’s grotesque caliphate, has fallen back under Damascus’s sway. So too has much of Syria’s oil wealth, lost to the state for over a decade.


Predictably, Washington’s response has been one of accommodation. Presiding over this moral contortion is Donald Trump, who has chosen to recognise Syrian strongman Ahmed al-Sharaa (better known by his nom de guerre, Abu Mohammad al-Jolani) - a man whose political evolution from al-Qaeda affiliate to interim president has been lubricated by expediency and violence.


His forces’ conduct in Rojava with horrific beheadings filmed on mobile phones, and women discussed as spoils of war, has been chillingly familiar. The SDF itself has said the executions were carried out “in the style of ISIS.” Yet, this is the man Trump has chosen to treat as a partner in counterterrorism.


America’s Kurdish allies have every reason to feel betrayed. For a decade, the SDF served as Washington’s most reliable boots on the ground against ISIS. Kurdish fighters bore the brunt of the war that ended the Caliphate’s territorial rule in 2019, guarding prisons packed with hardened jihadists and camps such as al-Hol, where the families of ISIS fighters still fester in radical limbo. Now Damascus is taking over those prisons, after clashes near facilities like al-Shaddadi and al-Aqtan left Kurdish fighters dead and wounded and ISIS detainees perilously close to escape.


This handover is being hailed as ‘progress’ in Washington, which says all about the cynical and amnesiac nature of American political memory.


Trump, meanwhile, has boasted of coordinating with Damascus to prevent ISIS prisoners from slipping away and speaks approvingly of Jolani’s assurances. His envoy, Tom Barrack, talks of a “pathway” for the Kurds into a unified Syrian state, complete with citizenship rights and cultural protections. Such language would be comforting if Syria’s recent history did not mock it so thoroughly.


But even American officials have admitted to being squeamish about the events unfolding on the ground. Retired officers warn that jihadists and takfiri extremists are embedded within government-aligned forces, raising doubts about Damascus’s ability or willingness to control them. Turkey, long hostile to Kurdish autonomy and eager to brand the SDF as an extension of the PKK, looks on approvingly.


The geopolitical irony is sharp. Trump rose to power railing against “radical Islamic terrorism” and imposing sweeping travel bans in the name of security. Yet he now embraces a man whose past would have once made him a poster child for Trumpian outrage. America has made the mistake before of arming jihadists in Afghanistan to humble the Soviets and indulging warlords in Iraq to suppress insurgents, of outsourcing stability to thugs and calling it ‘pragmatism.’ Each time, there has been a bloody reckoning.


Senator Lindsey Graham has threatened to resurrect “bone-crushing” Caesar Act sanctions if Syrian forces continue their advance, warning of permanent damage to relations. But such threats ring hollow when the White House has already conferred legitimacy. Recognition, after all, is a signal which tells every militia leader in the region that power, once seized and sanitised, can be rewarded no matter how stained its origins.


The tragedy of Syria is that its people have been subjected to every variety of foreign cynicism: Russian bombs, Iranian militias, Turkish interventions and American half-measures. Trump’s recognition of Jolani has added another layer to this ruinous pattern. It abandons allies who fought America’s enemies, launders the reputation of a jihadist in a suit, and mistakes the absence of ISIS flags for the presence of peace. Syria has seen this movie before. It never ends well.

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