At nets one has seen a smile on Sachin Tendulkar’s face whenever Munaf refers to him as ‘Paaji’ with a heavy Gujarati accent and follows it up with ready wisecrack. In the team bus he has his close mate Irfan Pathan, the only man who speaks the language he is comfortable in, in splits all the time.

So today at Munaf’s first major press conference there were four of his teammates sneaking among the scribes to catch every word. As one of the teammates said, “He has this quirky sense of humour that’s a huge hit in the team, everyone hangs on to each of his words.’’

Dhoni climbed over chairs to draw Munaf’s attention over the cameras, Suresh Raina and Romesh Powar whispered ‘Munna’ from the sides to rib him while Pathan looked on with a smile, with not even a shade of grudge against the pacer who was preferred over him with the new ball in the last match.

Unhealthy competition and peer pressure are ruled out of the equation when it comes to the man with a rustic charm, straight talking style and a perpetual smile on the face. If he has gracefully glided into the team in his first season, there were no jitters as he faced the bunch of television mikes a few assorted voice-recorders.

After a lazy walk he takes his seats and seeing a few known faces breaks the ice with a casual “kaise ho’. What follows are answers that are simple, honest and to the point. For the media used to mundane quotes, heavy jargons and stereotypical stone-walling, Munaf’s very colloquial bytes were refreshing.

Ask him about the lessons he has learnt from the tournament he replies, “nothing about lessons about rain.’’ About McGrath he says, “Unke pass speed nahi hai par line and length bahut badhiya hai.’’

This latest tribute to McGrath stands out for its honesty, as virtually everyone here has dished out hackneyed labels like master, legend and class act. But it doesn’t mean that Munaf is questioning McGrath’s unquestionable stature as he says that he has taken an appointment and will be talking to him.

When someone asks him about his batting, he comes up with an answer that is most likely to be heard during a street-cricket tennis ball game rather than on the sidelines of an international game. “Batting aati hi nahin hai, kya karooon? 50 overs main aisa hi hota hai,’’ he says.

Listening to Munaf’s earthly voice and comparing it with coach Greg Chappell’s cerebral and high on strategy statements, a pertinent question crops up: Do you understand, what the coach tells you? “I can,’’ he answers in English for a change. When one recalls coach’s constant instruction to his pacers to bowl in the right area and Munaf’s repeated use of the words ‘line and length’ in the briefing, the honesty in the village boy’s words are hard to miss.