Of course, his masculinity didn't begin or end with this almost condescending, vain act: he matched it even more vigorously on the field, smashing the fastest Test century for a debutant last year. Indeed, he has embellished his batting with cavalier strokes, with the sole intention of showing the bowler who the boss is.
For a talented youngster, Dhawan had to wait a long time to find his breakthrough; ironically, the same strokes that define his personality now continually machinated against him. But once he stormed into his slot, there was no stopping him; until, of course, his adversaries sized him up and came up with a counter plan.
It was in South Africa, after a solid initial year, that they chiselled away till his frailties were exposed: A slightly loose game; restlessness at the crease; and a clear bias in favour of the expansive shots. Dhawan, singularly confident, believed he could hit his way out of trouble, adding to his own woes.
As he continued making the same mistakes, he was left out of the fourth one-dayer at Hamilton; it didn't crack India's problems, but it at least curbed Dhawan somewhat. He made a 28-ball 9 but the poor run was clearly chipping away at his confidence.
The Auckland Test also started equally horrifically: off his third delivery, trying to tuck away to mid-wicket, he only managed a thick edge to gully. His first duck in 6 Tests reiterated that he was veering towards a calamity; in the second innings too, he was just a bad fall away from reaching that point.
Luckily, Brendon McCullum's elbow hit the ground as he dived and the catch popped out of his palm; Dhawan was on 7 at that stage, and it would have devastated him. He recovered from the lapse quickly, though, and saw out the day without any more frights; on the fourth day, he was a different batsman, almost immaculate.
He watched the ball acutely, and exhibiting remarkable patience and technique, he battled against the New Zealand pacers; he left more deliveries than he ever looked capable of in a high-quality display of Test batting. He waited for the loose delivery, hit straight as often as possible and only when it was too short, he cut or pulled.
Only when he meandered into the nineties, he pulled out a brash stroke: he stepped out of the crease and lofted Ish Sodhi over long on for six; he stepped out of his helmet, covered his face with both palms, looked up to the skies and thanked God. He didn't realise that the previous shot, an attempted sweep for four, was deemed a boundary; Virat Kohli quickly told him that he was still on 99.
Dhawan cut short his celebrations with a huge smile on his face; the next ball, though, he couldn't be denied: he despatched it to the point boundary and finally completed his celebration, spreading his arms in delight after thanking God one more time. There was, however, no twirling of the moustache; India were still a long way from home, and he still had a job to do.
Sadly for him, 15 runs later, he found himself at the receiving end of an unplayable ball from Wagner: the bouncer pitched on the leg stump, just short of length, and screamed past his face. He withdrew in time but his glove was still in the way, and a valiant knock had come to an end. Kohli had already departed; there were other batsmen too, to scale down the remaining 159 runs, but it was his dismissal that put India on the road to defeat.
The century has surely resurrected Dhawan's career; he has learnt how tough Test cricket can be. Now he knows that you can be a man by mixing caution with aggression.
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