Jasprit Bumrah is almost on the floor.

He doesn’t always do emotion, furthering speculation that underneath his skin is metal and gears. But there is a pattern to when he erupts.

It happened against Pakistan when India went 17 overs without a wicket. He came in and co-opted the laws of nature to encourage a batting collapse.

It happened against Australia when, defending 240, he took out Mitchell Marsh and Steven Smith in back-to-back overs.

And it happens again in Hyderabad when England are bashing India’s spinners to exclusively one region of the park with reverse sweep after reverse sweep.

Any time India are under pressure, he seems to feel it the most, and it unlocks something inside of him. Something dangerous. Something glorious.

It begins when he raps Ben Duckett on the pads and both the umpire and his own captain can’t see that an lbw decision is there for the taking. When the HawkEye projection shows the ball hitting the stumps, Bumrah bangs the turf with both his hands.

In his mind, England should be two down. So he simply wills it to happen.

Four balls after the reprieve – in which interval he was hit for two fours – Bumrah runs in with that strange, stuttering, singular approach to the crease. Even without being as good as he is, that bowling action alone has inspired kids all over the world. There’s one somewhere in Australia who could probably pass for him, which if he keeps it up, increases his chances of being called into the nets once or twice. Because this.

But the thing is he is good. Perhaps in contention to be among the very best there ever have been. Because those are the guys that the team turns to when it’s tough out there. Those are the guys that seem to take the pitch out of the equation. Those are the guys that do the things that turn a match on its head. They’re main character to the max.

So Bumrah vs Duckett, then. Around the wicket. Bang on a good length. Shiny side on the inside. Seam bolt upright. Reverse swing. Clean bowled.

Usually the smiting comes from up above, not from 22 yards away.

India, until that time and then after it, struggled for answers as Bazball finally took centre stage. R Ashwin and Axar Patel were prevented from bowling their best deliveries as Duckett kept reverse-sweeping them.

In the first innings, England were drowning in good-length balls: India’s spinners bowled 206 of them, off which England scored only 98 runs while losing six wickets. In the first session of day three, they got 50 good-length balls from India’s spinners and swatted them away for 55 runs.

In the end, India’s spinners had to keep going away from the ball that was likely to cause the most damage and go fuller to try and sneak under the bat swing or shorter to secure the top edge. When they did that, England could opt for low-risk ways of keeping the score ticking. They had won the tactical battle.

Other bowling teams might have to grit their teeth and keep going in the hope that one of those aggressive shots don’t come off. India don’t. They can call up a fast bowler who averages 15.33 (!) in these conditions.

Joe Root is on strike. There are 25,570 people around him screaming “Boom! Boom! Bum-rah! Boom! Boom! Bum-rah!” He is rapped on the pads too. It’s reverse swing again. At 140kph. In the opposite direction from before. The umpire raises the finger this time. But the batter refuses to take his leave. He brings in DRS. “Booooooooo!” goes the crowd. The noise is so loud. The air is so thick. This is cricket at its most visceral. This is cricket that you plug straight into the veins.

Throughout this Test match there has been a group of kids sitting right below the media box and they’re very good at rhymes. Now they take an old favourite and give it a new spin.

“Jonny, Jonny”

“Yes Papa!”

“Hitting boundaries?”

“No Papa”

“Hitting fifty?”

“No Papa”

“Getting out?”

“Hahaha!”

Bairstow is perhaps the only England batter who seems to keep Bumrah from imposing his will on the game. He once stops the fast bowler in his tracks, pulling out because he isn’t ready to face just yet. And the stadium just howls. It’s a jungle out there. Teeming, seething, vengeful.

Everyone wants a piece of Bumrah. A support-staff member waits for him on the long-leg boundary, towel around his shoulders. Kuldeep Yadav runs over to him with a bottle of water and maybe a word or two from the dressing room. The buggy cam keeps following him. It is as if the entire world has converged around him.

That Bumrah spell – 5-0-17-2 – saves India’s spinners (only briefly as it turns out). Because of it, they can target that good-length spot again, which immediately shows wickets are on offer. Ravindra Jadeja hits it twice and one ball turns viciously to beat Bairstow’s outside edge. The next goes straight on through to hit his stumps as he shoulders arms, believing it too will spin.

At the end of that hour of play, Bumrah is fully on the floor. Drink in his hand. Smile on his face.

India have rarely – maybe never – faced an opposition with this much clarity about how they want to bat in these conditions. It takes a once-in-a-generation bowler to keep this game in the balance.