Sounds of silence hide India's greatest hits

About 48 hours before Bangladesh were due to face defending champions India in a World Cup quarter-final at the MCG, Shakib Al Hasan spoke to the media. He faced an odd question about percentages. Apparently in Bangladesh, calculations are that they have a 10-33% chance of beating India. Shakib, considerate expression in place, replied patiently: "Actually it doesn't help calculating percentages. It all depends on how one plays on the field. Depends on the start and momentum."

It was routine cricket-speak, but the excitement in Bangladeshi ranks was palpable and Shakib left the room trying to spread his "keep calm" message, surrounded by a group of reporters from both countries seeking more.

A while later, the Indian team wandered into the MCG's great bowl for optional practice. It was to be mostly a fielding, stretching and fitness session with everyone in attendance. As the players skipped and did their drills, on one side there was the familiar sight of India's media manager Dr RN Baba negotiating terms with journalists. Or rather, he was listening to them ask for a little more: more questions at pre and post-match press conferences for the knockouts than was previously allowed during Baba's semaphore routine. The conversation got nowhere.

A few days ago, a Bangladesh journalist approached a prominent and relatively accessible member of India's numerous support staff and wanted a chat. When he was told it could only be done after the quarter-final, the journalist made a polite protest and was told by the person, "We don't talk, we do." Most Clint Eastwood of him. In the World Cup, India's "doing" has done all the talking, and an impressive speech it has been.

And that's the point: there is no better time to attempt melting the ice with the press. Success makes the media pliant, convinced their readers and viewers are happy to share the team's success. The power to say no, however, rests in the hand of those who control the narrative, in this case the India team's management.

The steps they have taken so far - the barest minimum media work - are a disservice to the narrative of the Indian team at this World Cup. Mohit Sharma and Mohammed Shami turned up for pre-match media briefings in Hamilton and Auckland. They spoke in Hindi and were engaging and articulate. Mohit talked about his surprise bouncer and then admitted with a laugh that it had been hit for many a six and four too. Shami spoke with sincerity about the World Cup, how it had to be played as though it was your last, and about staying on even keel on good days and bad.

And it is not just the Indian media who want to know more. There are others from corners of the globe wondering what makes Indian cricket tick. They want to take the colourful and inspiring stories about India's players - their quirks and their trials - back to their readers.

Like trying to fathom how the quiet, subdued Ajinkya Rahane seems to grow about 12 inches taller and broader the moment he come to the crease, and what about his humour cracks his team-mates up.

Or about how cricket got Umesh Yadav's father out of a Western Coalfields mine in Nagpur and brother from a Goa shipyard.

Or how, following the death of his mother, Ravindra Jadeja was sent to cricket practice every day and brought up by his elder sister, a nurse who still travels to work on a two-wheeler.

Or that in pursuit of his cricket, Shami was sent 1600 km east from Moradabad in Uttar Pradesh to Kolkata, and went from staying in his coach's home to becoming the leading wicket-taker for India at the biggest tournament in the world.

Or how on earth Stuart Binny pulled off a Fred Astaire at Lord's, clicking his heels mid-air after taking a catch?

Or whom does the incendiary Virat Kohli go to for counsel?

Never mind us guttersnipes, wouldn't cricket fans anywhere not want to know? In the players' own words? Presenting the Indian team as the 'rockstars' of cricket - which is how they have been billed for a few years now - in many ways shortchanges their lives and their struggles to get where they are. The Indian team may be the generators of the largest pool of revenue in cricket, but to make that the only prism through which the rest of the world sees them reflects limited thinking.

As media manager for a regime that dislikes the media, Baba is a messenger carrying out a directive from above. He is merely the first line of defence for a policy that will not cost Indian cricket any money, only goodwill. His NTNMA (no-training-no-media-activity) emails have acquired cult status at this World Cup.

In an interview with ESPNcricinfo a few years ago, former India captain Anil Kumble had said the BCCI, "certainly need[s] better PR. I think the general perception [of the BCCI] is not good and that needs to change. A lot of good things have happened: the pension scheme, one-time payment, 200 cricketers have benefited … You can't dismiss all that has happened by saying everything that comes out of BCCI is bad and evil." It's not confirmed whether their own advertising struggles to get that message across, or whether it doesn't want to, preferring to play the tough guy. But could relations between the BCCI and the press improve? As they stand today, as the Kiwis say, "not even." It is as emphatic a negative as you can get.

They most certainly need to, if only to shout out and take to the far corners of the world the rich stories behind India's cricketers, who have lit up the World Cup with tremendous skill and magic.