Indian cricket, like the society it reflects, has always contained multitudes. There have been strokemakers who dazzled, grinders who endured, and all-rounders who bridged both worlds.
In the past hundred years, one can trace distinct lineages of batting styles: the elegance of Vijay Merchant and Vijay Hazare, the discipline of Sunil Gavaskar and Sachin Tendulkar, the flamboyance of Virender Sahwag, the aggression of Virat Kohli... Amidst this panorama, Cheteshwar Pujara belongs firmly to the lineage of stoics, those who sought not to entertain the crowd in the moment, but to build the platform upon which victories and reputations could later stand.
Pujara’s retirement, announced on August 24, 2025, ends an era. His final tally of 103 Tests, 7,195 runs at 43.61, with 19 centuries and 35 fifties, is considerable. Only a select group of Indian batsmen—Gavaskar, Tendulkar, Dravid, Laxman, Kohli, and a handful more—occupy this echelon.
Yet numbers, however neat, cannot fully capture Pujara's importance. His greatness lay not merely in aggregate runs but in the manner he made them, and in the contexts he chose to illuminate with his presence.
A cricketer out of step with his times
Cheteshwar Pujara entered Test cricket in 2010, when the rhythms of the game were being transformed by the IPL and white-ball formats. By then, the cricketing world had grown impatient with slow builds and stonewalling defences.
Strike-rates, once confined to limited overs cricket, were flooding into Test commentary. Fans who had grown up on Sehwag’s blitzes or Dhoni's sixes sometimes struggled to appreciate a batsman who preferred to leave the ball outside off-stump for an entire session.
In that sense, Pujara was out of step with his times. His batting belonged to an earlier age—the age of Gavaskar, Boycott, and Dravid. He embodied the conviction that Test cricket, played properly, was not merely about the accumulation of runs but about the passage of time. His worth lay in the hours he spent, the overs he absorbed, and the fatigue he induced in opposing bowlers.
The Australian Summer of 2018–19
The fullest flowering of this philosophy came during India's historic tour of Australia in 2018–19. For more than seven decades, India had travelled Down Under without ever winning a Test series. Australia was the final frontier—its fast, hostile pitches backed by relentless pace attacks had repeatedly broken Indian resistance.
That summer, India finally prevailed, and Cheteshwar Pujara was the decisive factor. Across four Tests, he scored 521 runs and, more remarkably, faced 1,258 deliveries. He made three centuries, at Adelaide, Melbourne, and Sydney—each an essay in perseverance. He batted for long hours, absorbing pressure, frustrating Australia’s fast bowlers, and blunting their edge. Once the bowlers tired, Rishabh Pant and Virat Kohli were free to flourish.
At the series' end, India had secured a famous 2–1 victory, their first ever on Australian soil, and Pujara was named Player of the Series. Cricketing history will remember that summer as transformative, with Pujara at its heart.
Just as Vijay Hazare's stoic hundreds against Bradman’s bowlers in 1947–48 prevented repeated collapse, and just as Sunil Gavaskar's centuries in the Caribbean in 1971 announced India's arrival as a serious Test nation, so too did Pujara’s epic resistance in 2018–19 mark the team's coming of age abroad in the modern era.
Style and substance
What was it like to watch Pujara bat? At first, perhaps, unremarkable.
The high front elbow, the compact stride, the ball meeting bat with a gentle thud rather than a resounding crack. But the interest lay in accumulation. Over the course of an hour, then two, then five, bowlers changed lines, captains shuffled fields, yet Pujara remained.
He was not stroke-less. The whip through midwicket, the neat cut, and the occasional lofted drive were all part of his repertoire. But he used them sparingly, only when the situation demanded. The true aesthetic of his batting lay in its restraint. To appreciate Pujara was to appreciate patience as a form of artistry.
In an age where sport is increasingly packaged as entertainment, he reminded us that there is beauty in the unspectacular: in a leave that asserts judgment, in a block that erodes a bowler’s confidence, in a session where nothing seems to happen—until suddenly everything does.
Domestic roots
Pujara's story also illustrates the enduring value of India's domestic structure.
A product of Saurashtra cricket, he remained loyal to the team throughout his career. He was part of the side that won the Ranji Trophy in 2019–20 and again in 2022–23. Younger players from the region speak of his guidance and example. Unlike some contemporaries who drifted away from first-class cricket once they established themselves in the IPL, Pujara kept on returning to the domestic grind, regarding it not as a step down but as an anchor.
He also took the old-fashioned route of county cricket, playing seasons for Yorkshire and Sussex. These stints, against the moving ball in damp English conditions, refined his technique and deepened his appreciation of the game’s fundamentals.
The brief foray into one-day cricket
Though Test cricket was his natural habitat, Pujara did make a brief appearance in One-Day Internationals. He played five ODIs for India between 2013 and 2014, scoring 51 runs with a highest score of 27. His strike rate, at 39.23, reflected a style of batting more attuned to the long form of the game.
In an era where ODI cricket increasingly demanded rapid scoring and inventive stroke play, Pujara found himself out of step with the format's demands. Yet, his brief ODI career should not be judged harshly. Every cricketer has a game best suited to their temperament and technique. For Pujara, it was always Test cricket, the arena of patience, concentration, and the truest examination of skill.
An end that was in character
Cheteshwar Pujara's last Test for India came not at home but at The Oval, in the 2023 World Test Championship final. India lost to Australia, and Pujara wasn't among the runs. He was not picked thereafter, though he continued to pile on the runs for Saurashtra. His retirement announcement in 2025 came without ceremony—no farewell Test, no orchestrated send-off.
This, too, was in character. Pujara's career was never about grand gestures. He played for his team, for the contest, for the format he revered. If the end lacked sentiment, it reflected the same understated dignity that marked his entire career.
Comparisons and continuities
In comparing Cheteshwar Pujara with his predecessors, one naturally thinks of Dravid. Both played at No 3, both shielded the middle order, and both were paragons of concentration. Yet there were differences.
Dravid was perhaps more versatile across formats, while Pujara remained a pure Test batsman. Dravid's strokes were classically elegant, while Pujara's were more workmanlike. But in spirit, they belonged to the same school.
The comparison with Gavaskar is equally apt. Like Gavaskar in the 1970s, Pujara in the 2010s carried the weight of a nation's expectations abroad. Each embodied the idea that a team's fortunes could rest not in a burst of runs but in the quiet resolve of one man holding firm at the crease.
The Broader Significance
Cheteshwar Pujara's career tells us something about cricket itself. It shows that even in an era dominated by Twenty20 leagues and by impatient audiences, there remains room for the classical virtues. It shows that Test cricket, at its best, requires not just flair but also endurance. And it shows that the art of batting can still be about survival as much as about scoring.
His legacy will endure not merely in the record books but in the memory of those who value cricket as a contest of character as well as skill. Future generations of Indian batsmen will look to him as proof that perseverance can win matches and that there is still honour in playing the long game.
Cheteshwar Pujara will not be remembered for sixes that cleared stadiums or for innovations that rewrote batting manuals. He will be remembered instead for a different kind of contribution: for occupying the crease when all else faltered, for withstanding hostile spells abroad, for lending solidity to an Indian team finding its feet as a global power in Tests.
His retirement marks the passing of India's last classicist, a man who kept faith with cricket's oldest rhythms in a restless age. In remembering him, we also remember that Test cricket is a game of patience, and that without players like Pujara, the format itself would be immeasurably poorer.
(Ashutosh Kumar Thakur is a Bangalore-based columnist, literary critic and curator. He can be reached at ashutoshbthakur@gmail.com)