‘Pakistan’ is the most combustible word in Indian discourse. A mere mention, in text or speech, is often enough to turn the usually sane voices into fiery hate-spewers. And so, every cricket match between the two countries allows fans an opportunity to wage a proxy war from the comfort of their mobile phones. Former cricketers and celebrities are just as trigger-happy.
The India-Pakistan Champions Trophy final in England on Sunday has already been labelled a war — a term used so loosely in the sports pages, it belittles the killings at the Kashmir border the two countries share. This is a situation akin to the 1999 World Cup, also in England, when the two teams clashed even as the Kargil War was raging back home. India went on to win the match, and many labelled the victory at Old Trafford a tribute to the soldiers at the front. Over time the relationship has had its peaks and troughs, including the hugely popular Friendship Series in 2004.
The obvious consequence of the political tension is the severed cultural ties. Pakistani artistes are already bearing the brunt (remember the hostage video Karan Johar posted?), and there’s no hope of a bilateral cricket series anytime in the near future. There have been TV debates asking whether India should play Pakistan at all. You see, the nation wants to know whether we should play. Some even decided to boycott all coverage of the group match.
This is, without doubt, a polarizing subject. And one without a perfect, logical answer. So if you feel India should not play Pakistan, and can resist watching the game, read no further.
If you do plan on tuning in, there’s something to look out for; it goes beyond Rohit Sharma’s delightful artistry, Shikhar Dhawan’s bold strokeplay, Virat Kohli’s soothing return to form and the Indian bowlers’ Pakistan-like performance. It is about what sport stands for.
For many years Pakistan cricket has been reflective of the quagmire the country has been in. But this team, in just the course of 10 days, has scripted a fairytale only they seem to be able to produce — much like that dream run they had in the 1992 World Cup, culminating in an unforgettable win under an inspirational Imran Khan.
After losing to India two weeks ago, and having to deal with the backlash from fans and former cricketers, they have done the impossible by beating South Africa (the world’s No. 1-ranked team), England (the tournament favourites) and Sri Lanka (the only side to defeat India).
The criticism they received back home made the loss to India seem like a national calamity. To add insult to injury, people trolled their captain, Sarfraz Ahmed, for his attempts at responding to journalists in English, a language he isn’t fluent in.
The victories have now changed the narrative. The word ‘unpredictable’, historically synonymous with Pakistan cricket, is making its way to every news story describing this comeback. And Sarfraz, who has been refreshingly candid and endearing in his press interactions, is earning more supporters every day.
So what’s so special about Pakistan? Why should Indians not demonstrate the hostility we usually accord anything across the Line of Control? Why should we stop forwarding those nasty memes on chat groups?
Pakistan are outcasts in international cricket. The 2009 attack on the Sri Lankan team bus in Lahore left eight people dead, and led to a travel boycott by all major cricket-playing nations. This is a generation of Pakistani cricketers that has made the UAE their base for home matches, and has hardly had a chance to play before supporters in their own country. Thanks to the political turmoil, their players don’t get a chance to compete in the cash-rich Indian Premier League anymore. The infant Pakistan Super League, their T20 venture, isn’t even played in Pakistan — when they brought the final home, it resulted in player withdrawals. Add to this the permanent mistrust and suspicion of match-fixing that clouds the viewer’s imagination every time they throw you a surprise on the pitch.
Their cricket board has always been in the doldrums, infrastructure below par, and there has been a dearth of superstar cricketers that youngsters can idolize. India, on the other hand, has been a picture in contrast.
That Pakistan compete against, leave alone defeat, the cricketing powerhouses is a sports mystery few experts can explain. It’s akin to many of our Olympic heroes who make us proud despite, and not because of, the system. When we hear their stories every four years, we sit in our living rooms, applaud, get teary-eyed, and admire the zeal and determination to fight all odds.
We don’t, like Virender Sehwag and Atul Kasbekar, belittle their efforts, even if it’s not good enough to win a medal. Because we think of these sportsmen as ordinary people with extraordinary stories.
Call your friends home on Sunday, get the popcorn out, and applaud Pakistan.
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