The alchemy of desire: Virat Kohli and Rohit Sharma make their presence felt

India’s two most accomplished white-ball batters, Virat Kohli and Rohit Sharma, have once again authored their presence in bold ink during the 50-over series against South Africa. For those who follow Indian cricket closely, this was never a comeback. The narrative of “return” was manufactured only because their absence from other formats — and the decreasing frequency of ODI cricket — made them appear like visiting faculty in a sport whose syllabus now tilts heavily towards T20s. Yet when they walked out to bat in this series, something felt different. Their body language carried an energy that suggested intent, assertion, and perhaps even defiance.

What puzzled observers was the sense that they were batting to prove a point — not to the opposition, but to their own ecosystem. Why should two giants of the game look like men fighting for space in a room they helped build? That question lingers for anyone willing to look beyond the scorecard.

This is where the alchemy of desire surfaces — the mysterious, transformative force that turns suppressed longing into performance. Desire, when cornered, does not fade; it sharpens. Kohli and Rohit seemed to be tapping into that reservoir, converting whatever they have been feeling — exclusion, ambiguity, or marginalisation — into a fierce reaffirmation of their value.

One cannot help but ask: Were they subtly pushed into exile from Test cricket by those scripting India’s future roadmap? If so, the manner of communication has clearly fallen short. Cricket boards rarely acknowledge the nuance behind selection shifts, preferring diplomacy over truth. But players of this stature don’t need statements to understand their place; they read signals, silences, and subtexts.

And in this ODI series, the subtext felt unmistakable.

This was retribution wrapped in elegance, a reminder that greatness is not retired; it is denied. And when greatness feels denied, it fights to reclaim its narrative.

Their performances were not merely statistical contributions; they were declarations. Their running, their celebrations, even their mid-pitch conversations carried the weight of two men reasserting themselves in a system that had begun to look past them. The eye contact — or the pointed lack of it — with the czar-coach Gautam Gambhir added another layer. It didn’t appear warm; it didn’t appear collaborative. It felt like two tectonic plates acknowledging each other’s existence without conceding ground.

Elite sport is built on chemistry — between coach and captain, between philosophy and personnel. When that chemistry is strained, performance may still happen, but harmony does not. And harmony is what sustains a dressing room through cycles, transitions, and storms.

Indian cricket’s future depends not on erasing its past but on integrating it. Solutions must be found — quietly, respectfully, and soon. For the good of the team, for the clarity of roles, and for the emotional climate that shapes results.

Because desire, when handled right, creates gold.

But when mishandled, its alchemy can corrode everything around it.