Tanvi Moghe

Tanvi keeps score the old way — a pencil and a book of small boxes, one per ball — and next to each over she writes where the session line stood when it started and where it stood when it ended. After enough matches, the second column tells you more about the market than the first tells you about the cricket.

A small brass stopwatch lying beside a closed cloth-bound book with a plain dark green cover, a short yellow pencil resting on the cover, under a warm amber lamp on a dark glossy desk, a white cricket ball at the top of the frame, soft reflections on the polished surface

Mid-match, two prices on screen

What she follows

Run lines, and the moments they stop. A session line is suspended on a wicket, on a boundary, on a review, and it returns somewhere else. Her notes are mostly about those gaps: how far a line moves while nobody can bet on it, and how often the number that comes back is the one people expected.

Mid-match, two prices on screen

What she wrote

Mid-match, two prices on screen

What she checks on every page

Settlement. A line is only as clear as the rule that decides it, and rules differ between sites on rain, on a batter who retires, on an innings that ends early. Where they differ, her pages say "usually" and point to the market rules instead of choosing one version.

She is also the one who insists every session example shows the runs that land inside the gap. It is the row most explanations leave out, and the one that decides whether a line is fair.