279 Wickets, Yet an Invisible Wall: The Arithmetic of Shams Mulani's Wait

In the second session of the fourth day in Puducherry, the cracks on the pitch were spreading out like fingers. The Australia 'A' batters were stepping out to the spinners—aggressive, impatient, as though they had to prove something every over. It was exactly then that Shams Mulani changed his pace. In the first innings he had simply placed the ball in the right areas, refusing to let the batter settle; in the fourth innings he forced nothing and let the pitch do the work. That evening a line appeared in my notebook that I have written many times: when the ball slows down, conviction does not drop—it rises. Seven wickets in that match, a saving 29, and the Player-of-the-Series award—all of it was captured in a single evening. But the real story is not on the scorecard. The real story is why a spinner sitting on 279 First-Class wickets is still waiting at the door of the national team.

One thing needs to be stated clearly first, because many readers outside the game confuse it. Mulani's entire career—Ranji Trophy, Duleep Trophy, India 'A' 'unofficial Tests'—belongs to the red-ball world. Averages, wickets and strike data must all be judged against First-Class benchmarks. Anyone reading these numbers through a T20 or ODI lens will misread them. This is the Test pathway, not the white-ball pathway. And in Indian cricket, this pathway is the most crowded and the most patience-testing.

The series at the centre of Mulani's recent career was against Australia 'A'. This should not be dismissed. Seven of that side had played Test cricket before, and it was led by Peter Handscomb, who has twenty Tests to his name. This was no soft domestic series. To be Player of the Series against an opponent of that standard means the recognition is not hollow.

Mulani's method was adaptation, not a single magic ball. The visiting batters attacked spin, stepping out. Against such batters the greatest weapon is never a mystery delivery but patience and pressure. Mulani first varied his pace to deny the batter any foothold, then leaned on 'right areas' once the surface cracked. This is the classic two-mode red-ball spinner's approach: a holding role early, an attacking role late. In my view, this dual role is Mulani's true strength—he does not merely take wickets, he controls the rhythm of the match.

Now to the numbers, because the discussion is incomplete without them. 279 wickets in 61 First-Class matches—roughly 4.57 per match. The benchmark for elite domestic spinners is generally 4 to 5 wickets per match. Mulani is comfortably in that band. This volume is the basis of his claim—that he should be in the selectors' minds is arithmetic, not arrogance.

But there is a subtle trap here, one I have seen repeatedly. Wickets per match alone cannot lift someone ahead, because within India's spin pool this figure is nearly identical for several bowlers. Manav Suthar has 179 wickets in 38 matches—4.71 per match. Sai Kishore has 245 in 60—4.08. Mulani's 4.57 sits between them: competitive, but not clearly ahead. This is the first part of his problem: his volume is excellent, but on efficiency he is stuck in a tight cluster, not at the top.

So where is his differentiator? In his batting. 2,632 runs at 31.71. The benchmark for lower-order all-rounders is usually 25 to 30. Mulani is above that line. He is not a specialist spinner; he is an all-rounder whose profile resembles Ravindra Jadeja's or Axar Patel's. Indian selectors have historically prized this 'two-in-one' profile for home Tests. The batting average is the strongest argument behind his confidence.

Now to the point least discussed. Look at his five-season wicket band: 45, 46, 35, 44, 30. This is consistency, not a breakout. He is a proven domestic workhorse who stays between 35 and 46 wickets each season. But he has not yet produced the season that would make selectors point a finger. And the biggest caution hides in the last number: 30 wickets in 2026-26, his lowest in five years. A condition must be attached here, because my profession has taught me that reaching a conclusion without verifying data is journalism's greatest sin. If the season is complete, this is a downward deviation from his baseline of roughly 44. If it was still ongoing, the number is not yet meaningful. This must be verified against reliable sources.

Age is also in play. Mulani is 29. The peak for spinners is generally 28 to 34. He is in his prime right now—a positive. But it is also a thorn: if the cap does not come within the next two seasons, his best years will run out in the waiting itself.

Here lies the paradox I sat down to write about. The outside reader sees this story and thinks—'Mulani is the next spinner, he is waiting, his time will come.' But the structural reality is far more brutal. India's spin department currently holds four left-arm orthodox spinners—Jadeja, Axar, Suthar, and Mulani himself—with Kuldeep Yadav's wrist-spin also present. Mulani is not filling a rare niche; he stands in Indian cricket's most crowded lane. And in that lane, Manav Suthar has already moved a step ahead, having begun his Test career. Because Suthar is also left-arm spin, he directly blocks Mulani's most natural entry point.

This congestion is not unfamiliar to me. I have watched this same scene many times from a press box in New Delhi—a proven domestic performer, strong on numbers, blocked by a single faster-rising peer. The sad part is that such a block is not a failure; it is a structural feature. India's domestic pipeline is so deep that even a 279-wicket bowler queues.

I first learned in a Moscow newsroom that a deadline is not just a time but a place. Selection queues work the same way—it is not only merit, it is position in a particular time. Mulani's position is unfortunately trapped by two things: Suthar's advance, and the still-unfinished careers of Jadeja and Axar.

Here his realistic path becomes clear. His route is succession, not displacement. The report frames him as waiting for Jadeja's retirement. This is not entirely wrong, but it is risky. The arithmetic of waiting depends on one person's retirement timing—which is not in the player's hands, nor fully in the selectors', but depends on Jadeja's body and workload. Mulani himself admits this with humility: the selection process is not in his hands, he only knows that when his time comes he will be selected. The attitude is admirable, but it does not replace reality.

There is, however, a major positive here. Mulani received role-clarity briefings at the BCCI Centre of Excellence before the Australia 'A' series—from coaches Sunil Joshi and Rishikesh Kanitakar. Knowing before taking the field where to bowl and what role to play in which situation is no small thing. It is a real structural advance in India's domestic-to-national conversion. In my experience, young players who enter 'A' tours without guidance often look lost. Mulani did not.

Yet this structural support does not open his selection door. In fact, the hidden truth is here: in this interview Mulani deliberately names his coaches, mentions the Centre of Excellence, and publicly brings out the story of his preparation. This is not just honesty; it is a signal—a carefully arranged message directed at the selectors. 'My name has to be up there in selectors' minds' is not an on-field performance; it is pressure applied in the language of the media. It is legitimate, common, and mostly ineffective.

One more thing is worth noting. There is no IPL framing around Mulani—no auction price, no franchise valuation. For a 29-year-old domestic spinner, that silence is itself information. It means his selection case does not rest on T20 franchise currency; it rests only on red-ball volume and batting. But the commercial gravity of white-ball cricket pulls media and selection attention toward T20. For red-ball specialists, this is a silent risk to visibility.

In 2026, sitting in an empty stadium in Goa, I recorded every instruction from Bengaluru FC's bench. That day I understood that an empty stand still has a pulse, if you sit long enough. Mulani's story of waiting is much the same—quiet, but with a pulse. That pulse is his consistency. Five seasons of 35 to 46 wickets, no anomaly, no swing. This is his real asset as a bowler, and it keeps him ready for a call at any moment.

The Mumbai angle must not be forgotten either. Beside Mulani are Tushar Deshpande and Tanush Kotian—a familiar, high-performing combination in Mumbai's red-ball environment. All three are primed for the coming Ranji season. For Mulani this is a safety net: an environment where he knows what each bowler will do and when. For reproducing domestic success, that familiarity is no small help.

Now to the question readers ask most. Will Mulani be selected? My answer is that the question is wrongly framed. The right question is—what does his selection depend on? And the answer is not form, but timing. The wall in front of him is not a wall of merit; it is a wall of congestion. A player can take 279 wickets and still be stuck if his lane is already packed with four talents, and if one of them reaches the door just a little before him.

Is this unfair? I would say it is not unfair; it is a system. India's spin depth is good news for the national team—even 279-wicket bowlers queue, and there is no greater spin insurance. But the same depth is cruel to an individual. In Mulani's story, both truths live together, and honest writing must state both.

In my view, the two biggest risks are these. The first is condition-dependence. His most dramatic performance came on the fourth-innings turner at Puducherry. Selecting a left-arm spinner there was a conditions-driven tactical choice. But there is no evidence from this series that the same profile will reproduce on seaming or flat decks. A selector will ask this question, and must. The second risk is small sample size. A two-match 'A' series is a small window, and Mulani returned to India 'A' after two years. This is a re-entry, not an entry. A spike is not a trend.

I want to end this piece with a caution, because over twenty years I have seen good news turn into bad analysis. If Mulani is crowned 'the next spinner' right now, the story will collapse the moment he has one poor season. The correct approach is to value his five-season consistency, to look at his batting average separately, and to respect the arithmetic of waiting.

And finally, one question I am writing down before I close this notebook. In the coming Ranji season, if Mulani takes wickets in the 40s again, and if Jadeja is rested in a home Test—will the door open? Or will a settled Test career for Suthar keep it shut for three to five years? The answer is written on no scorecard. It is hidden in that selection room, where only time and congestion decide.