There are some things you fly from Lahore to Melbourne for at this time of year. Warm weather, perhaps. More of a Christmas vibe, possibly. A reading of the air-quality index that doesn’t give you a panic attack, quite probably.

And then you’re sat at the MCG on an idle festive evening. Tea was served only recently. Maybe you helped yourself to a cuppa, and a slice of pizza or cake to go with it. Or maybe both; you may be on holiday, and you wish to indulge.

You settle down happily into your seat. Pakistan are doing all right. In fact, you dare yourself to think it: Pakistan are winning this day. Second day of the Boxing Day Test, they’ve knocked off Australia’s final seven relatively cheaply within a session, even if, possibly in generous holiday spirit, they have gifted a whopping 52 extras. And now, captain Shan Masood and opener Abdullah Shafique are neutering Australia’s pace attack with relative comfort. The partnership is 90, the score 124 for 1. Nearly 45,000 people are in to enjoy the Test cricket. You don’t get that in Pakistan.

And then you see something you are sure looks familiar, something you realise, with a pang of horror, you never needed to leave Lahore at all to see. Pat Cummins pitches one up, it’s moving in, and Abdullah Shafique pushes uncertainly at it in the bowler’s general vicinity. Cummins bends low in one lithe, graceful motion, and when he emerges from a dive, he’s got the ball in his hands.

“It’s just one of those ones that… off the bat, they’re pretty hard to pick up, and they either stick or they don’t,” Cummins said later. “Luckily that one stuck – in the other hand to what I thought it was going to go in.”

But against Pakistan, these catches seem to find a way to nestle into Cummins’ secure hands. Twenty-one months ago, Shafique – in the second series of his career – had put on a 150-run partnership with Azhar Ali – at the other end of his career – in Lahore. He’d fallen 44 runs earlier, but his stand with Azhar had helped Pakistan into a relatively secure position after Pakistan had triggered an Australian collapse to keep them below 400. It was 214 for 2 when Azhar played a near-identical shot: the nothing push.

Cummins had thrown himself to the floor to strike, and Pakistan watched as Australia laid waste to the rest of their side, the last eight wickets falling for 54 runs. Pakistan never quite recovered, and Australia sealed a series-clinching victory two days later.

Back here at the MCG, you shift uncomfortably in your seat. You were there in Lahore that day, and you remember what happened immediately. It’s hard not to, because defeats against most opposition inflicts bruises, but Australia leave tattoos, and Pakistan are now covered in them.

Australia have toiled all day with little to show for it until then. But like a cheetah that awaits its moment, they recognise the time to strike. Cummins needs just three more deliveries to produce the delivery of the Test match so far, one that lands outside off and moves in off the seam so sharply Babar Azam’s defensive prod only ends up going all around it. Australia sprang at the right time to knock their prey to the ground, and now it’s time to feast.

Masood dances down the crease to attack Nathan Lyon – what he’s seen unfold at the other end need not impact his own approach. But there’s only so many times a bowler with 500 wickets at just over 30 will allow a batter with 1600 runs at just under 30 to punish him that way. Masood doesn’t recognise the slightly altered flight path, the length pulled a shade back, and goes through the shot anyway, losing his shape and his wicket.

This is a dance the universe is all too familiar with, and each participant, unwitting and otherwise, knows the next steps by now. Josh Hazlewood and Cummins knock back the next two as Pakistan lose five wickets for 46 runs in a little over an hour. It is somehow both incredulous and yet inevitable that Pakistan would dominate the best part of two-thirds of a day against Australia, and somehow end up in a significantly worse position than they started it.

You no longer remember the wickets Aamer Jamal took this morning, or the child-like excitement of Hasan Ali as he celebrated each dismissal. You have forgotten how hard Pakistan made it for Australia to score runs on a morning they were pushing for an advantage, or even the blinder of a catch Mohammad Rizwan took diving low to his right to trigger the collapse in the first place. You can barely recall the technical solidity of Shafique as he got Pakistan off to another bright start, or Masood’s commitment to a playing style that saw him post his highest Test score in nearly four years.

Instead, you remember the extras Pakistan so blithely gave away, the cheap runs rather than the wickets, the fine margins that saw Australia survive two DRS calls. You recall Imam-ul-Haq’s dismissal off Lyon after the openers had survived another 15 overs, and you know exactly how many runs Pakistan are behind Australia with four lower-order wickets to go, each of those 124 weighing down on you.

It’s a pleasant December evening in Melbourne, with the sun still out long after stumps have been called. But as you wearily trudge out of this cathedral of a stadium and walk up the Yarra, you can only see the clouds as they stealthily make their way over the city. Instead of being warmed by the sun, the southerly wind that’s suddenly picked up in intensity chills your bones. You realise you haven’t brought a jacket, and how little time it takes for a Pakistani to feel unprepared in Australia. It feels uncomfortably like a metaphor.

You flew across hemispheres to the other side of the world, but this is an experience Lahore provided just as authentically as Melbourne. It has, after all, never been Australia’s style to give Pakistan a hiding place.

At least you can see those Christmas lights in Federation Square, though. And the air quality is pure enough to allow you to take that familiar sigh of resignation.