It was quiet this morning in Kolkata. Kolkata is many things - beautiful, poetic and dishevelled - but it isn't often quiet.

There would, of course, still be someone shouting political messages on College Street. There would, of course, still be people having heated conversations in the middle of a lane, stopping traffic. There would, of course, still be people playing card games on the street. There would, of course, still be people strolling into the Olypub.

Kolkata can be quiet; Kolkata cannot be stopped.

The India-Pakistan game was not even supposed to be here. Kolkata sucked it in.

This tournament started in Nagpur. In some ways twice: when the official first game was played, and when India and the main group games started. That was not an accident. Nagpur is the city of Shashank Manohar, BCCI president and ICC chairman. It may be one of India's least vibrant cities, it may be no one's idea of a good time, but there we were, in a beautiful stadium, miles out of town, with no ticketing facilities, opening the tournament.

The next biggest match of the tournament was due to be in Dharamsala, home ground of the second most powerful man in Indian cricket, Anurag Thakur, the secretary of the BCCI.

The ground has hosted some big games before, and the north of India certainly deserves some cricket love. But this seemed like an odd choice from the start.

On January 2, gunmen entered the Pathankot army base. Over a few days the attacks continued on that base. One civilian and seven soldiers were killed. As were several of the attackers. They carried with them at least 50kg of ammunition, 30kg of grenades and many assault weapons.

Pathankot is less than 100km from Dharamsala. The attack was devastating for those involved. It was political for cricket.

Dharamsala doesn't have the infrastructure for a game of this size anyway. As a city, or a cricket ground. The Hong Kong team bus could barely fit on the roads and on its trip hit a tree that smashed the window, landing glass on the coaching staff. Not to mention the ICC's biggest nightmare, an actual attack on Dharamsala, in which they would have no safe way to have people exit the ground.

"On this spiteful, untrustworthy pitch, Virat batted like he was invincible. Like he wasn't a carbon-based lifeform. Like the laws of gods and men didn't apply to him"

This game can barely fit in to a normal-sized ground. Adelaide almost ground to a halt when the match happened there in the last World Cup. This time it needed to be somewhere safe, and somewhere big. So it came back to the grand old dame of Indian cricket.

She's had a facelift after being mistreated over the years. She even missed out on games for the last World Cup here, in 2011. She isn't what she was, and she may never be again. But on a day like this, she's beautiful.

A few days ago Gautam Gambhir said: "This is all created by media to get TRPs and stuff like that. It's not 'the' match."

Since then it was announced that a cavalcade of greats, a chief minister and a Bollywood icon would be out on the ground speaking before the match. Since then Facebook's Mark Zuckerberg talked about the match. Since then over a billion people had watched, heard, or talked about the match.

Sri Lanka v West Indies is just another match. This is India v Pakistan; the media didn't create this, the British Empire, geography and blood did.

The players might approach it as just another game, but it isn't, for us, or for them.

"He is just a normal bowler," is what Rohit Sharma said of Mohammad Amir. Which is like calling India v Pakistan a normal game.

There is nothing normal about Amir. It's not normal for cricketers to go to jail for fixing a cricket game. It's not normal for them to come back and star so quickly. It's not normal for them to be this good.

Had Rohit backed his statement up by bossing Amir around the field, the "Nohit" comments would have, at least for one day, been forgotten. Instead he hit it straight up in the air off the "normal bowler". And for once, Rohit was the first to troll himself.

Before this match Shahid Afridi was in so much trouble people in Pakistan suggested he should be served by the courts. Javed Miandad said he should be ashamed of his comments. And Pakistan news channels abused him.

Suresh Raina played his first ball on to his leg stump IDI/Getty Images

Why? Because he suggested that he got more love from Indian fans. For a man who plays as many reckless shots as Afridi, it seems weird to suddenly then be so worried about remarks he has made when arriving in a country there was previous security concerns over. Maybe he wanted to book a future IPL contract or ensure he has a chance of becoming a commentator, but it's also possible he was bored and just wanted the whole thing over quickly.

Like he has a few times before. But today he batted with patience, and mild confusion at the pitch, and was the only Pakistan bowler to bowl out his overs.

There was a time when Mohammad Sami was seen as one of the rightful heirs to the Pakistani pace crown. Those days were over a decade ago. The Sami story is less a quest for greatness and more eternal pratfall. Some say he has every gift for fast bowling you can have, except the capacity to control line and length. He is a Ferrari without wheels, a politician without guile and a burger without a patty.

But everyone has a Sami moment. When at 11 o'clock at night they flicked on the TV and some old match is being replayed, and this guy, this perfect pace specimen, is charging through the crease, through the batsman, at times through the speed of light. Which is why it is odder that Sami has spent more time in the wilderness than a doomsday prepper.

Sami's first over was amazing. Short-of-a-length drivel smacked to the fence. A no-ball. A free hit that should have been four. Then he bowled Shikhar Dhawan. Then he bowled Suresh Raina. He took Yuvraj on the body before completing the over with a dot ball. It didn't sum up Sami's career, though. That would have been a few exciting balls, a gap of years, then a weird finish.

His first wicket might have put an end to Dhawan's limited-overs career for a short time. With Raina's dismissal he was taking the wicket of someone whose Twitter account once said: "Ek do din late gaye ghar !!!! Woh bhi besharam ki tarah Gaye... Bye bye Pakistan!!!!" [One or two days late they went home. That too shamelessly]", after Pakistan exited the World T20 in 2012. After that over, he was given only one more by Afridi. Everyone was left wanting more Sami. We kind of always have.

There was Shoaib Malik, married to an Indian tennis star, brought back into the middle order after some time. A former captain, now a bits-and-pieces player who retired from Tests just as he made his comeback. He is a player who despite the way he plays, inspires love and hate in great amounts. There was a time when he was batting when it looked like he and tortured prodigy Umar Akmal could provide enough runs to win the match. There was a time with the ball where his spin looked like it could be the difference. Instead he neither closed out the game with bat nor ball, he remained a handy player in a tough loss.

Yuvraj Singh is a cancer survivor, a Stuart Broad-basher, and the man who couldn't hit the ball off the square in the last World T20 final. There are some who question his place in the side, and squad. There are some who wonder how much the pitch will have to spin before Dhoni gives him the ball. But when the ball was dropped short, he swatted it. When it was full he drove it on rails. He still only just scored at a run a ball. He is no longer the prince of Indian batting, more an aging duke.

Virat Kohli takes a bow after reaching his fifty IDI/Getty Images

Then Virat. The others had stories, he was the star.

On this pitch, this spiteful, untrustworthy pitch. A pitch where the ball refused to be hit, where batsmen of both sides looked beyond silly and where average bowlers were king. On this pitch, Virat batted like he was invincible. Like he wasn't a carbon-based lifeform. Like the laws of gods and men didn't apply to him.

It wasn't quiet in Kolkata when Virat batted. They screamed for him. Cheered for him. Got up out of their seats and said his name in unison. The whole stadium rocked with his every shot. You know the men screaming on College Street were screaming for him too. You know everyone was too busy around a TV to argue. You know the card games were abandoned. That Olypub, where there are no TV screens, would be empty. That was Virat.

When he bats like this the world turns slower, just so we can see a bit more of him.

He could have made these runs at Dharamsala, he could have done it versus New Zealand, but it wouldn't have been the same.

Kolkata was not quiet, it screamed "Kohli, Kohli, Kohli". This game was not supposed to happen, not here, and not at all. But Kolkata made it happen, and Kohli made it a win.

Eden Gardens needed Virat like cricket needs India v Pakistan. Some things are just better when they're together. It was a story just to get here. We had to beat terrorism, death and politics to get here, but when he did, it was worth it. This was 'the' match. This was not normal. This was Virat. This was Eden Gardens. This was India v Pakistan.