Blood and water won’t flow together.. warned Prime Minister Narendra Modi soon after the Pahalgam terror attack while taking the contentious decision to suspend the six decades old Indus Waters Treaty with Pakistan. Well, blood may not flow with water but it surely does with sport. In a fortnight from now, the Asia Cup cricket will begin with all eyes on the marquee India-Pakistan clash. The Modi government has green-flagged the matches, claiming that they are making a distinction between bilateral engagements and multi-lateral events, while also rather piously claiming to ‘position India as a preferred destination for hosting international sporting events’.
In principle, the government is only adhering to the unwritten guidelines followed since 2012: the only cricket encounters between the two countries since have been in global tournaments. As a long-standing advocate of Indo-Pak sporting ties, I ought to be welcoming the government’s stand without demur. Cricket binds the sub-continent, sports are meant to be a bridge-builder. Some of my most cherished moments as a cricket fan have involved India-Pakistan cricket matches. From Anil Kumble’s ten wickets at the Kotla, the heroics of a Sachin Tendulkar in the 2003 World Cup to Javed Miandad’s last ball six in Sharjah, Indo-Pak cricket has been the ultimate roller-coaster ride of emotion, one where competing nationalisms are tied into fractious history, past and present. An Imran Khan versus a Sunil Gavaskar, a Shoaib Akhtar versus a Virender Sehwag, Indo-Pak cricket has served up many a classic contest whose impact stretches far beyond the boundary.
And yet, somehow this time feels very different. Two teams will be locked in a battle on the field barely months after the two countries were on the verge of a potential nuclear conflict. What happened in Pahalgam was gruesome, an act of bestiality that sparked off rage across India. And yet, there was no remorse shown by the Pakistani army-state. Unwilling to take any responsibility for its active sponsorship of terror, there was a crude attempt to describe the attack on civilians as a ‘false flag’ operation. Rather than call out The Resistance Front, a Lashkar proxy, there was a familiar cover-up, a refusal to even acknowledge Indian concerns over Pakistan-sponsored terror. The army chief General Asim Munir, who only weeks ahead of the terror attack had brazenly endorsed the two nation theory, was promoted to Field Marshal even as he continued to spew venom against India.
What do international cricketers have to do with the machinations of the malevolent Pakistan army-state? Isn’t it possible to keep the purity of sport distinct from the coarseness of a political establishment that seeks to bleed India with a ‘thousand cuts’? In theory yes, in reality, no. In the aftermath of the Pahalgam attack, there wasn’t a single statement of empathy or solidarity with the Indian people from any recognisable voice within the Pakistan cricket fraternity. Instead, we had former Pakistan captain Shahid Afridi make provocative remarks blaming the Indian army for the terror attack. He wasn’t alone. The Pakistan Cricket Board chief, Mohsin Naqvi, who is also a minister in the Shahbaz Sharif government, was quoted as saying, “Pakistan is a nuclear power and India doesn’t have the courage to refuse playing cricket with us. They know what the consequences would be.”
The PCB chief’s incendiary statements show just how deep the hostility is within the Pakistani establishment towards New Delhi. Yes, there are hotheads in this country too, who continue to peddle a dangerously jingoistic agenda that desires the ‘elimination’ of Pakistan. The media disinformation campaigns during Operation Sindoor on both sides of the border – perhaps far more bellicose on the Indian side – mirrors the complete collapse of any sense of institutional code of conduct. “Amanki Asha has been well and truly buried by Brahmoski Bhasha,” thundered a gleeful news anchor, an archetypal example of performative nationalism that is now part of the grammar of news tv.
In the circumstances, can an Indo-Pak cricket match provide a healing touch when the political class and media prefer war-mongering? Sadly not. I recall being in Pakistan in 2004 during what was in many ways a watershed tour, one where not only did India defeat Pakistan in Pakistan in a test series for the first time but where there was a surge of warmth and goodwill towards the Indian team that held out a lingering ray of hope in the power of people to people contact. On one unforgettable evening in Lahore, I was surrounded by a group of frenzied Pakistani fans who were singing ‘Balalji zara dheere chalo’, a reference to the Indian fast bowler, Lakshmipathi Balaji whose infectious smile had won hearts across the border. There is also the lasting memory of a Chennai crowd giving a standing ovation to the Pakistani team after they had narrowly defeated India in a test match in 1999. Those were goosebump moments, instilling some optimism in a more ‘normal’, congenial relationship. Alas, they have proven to be a false dawn.
Truthfully, the India-Pakistan relationship is anything but normal. Cricket, in that sense, is only an instrument to convey a fabricated sense of normalcy in a badly twisted equation. Players are expected to be our ‘warriors in blue and green’, waging a ‘war’ with bat and ball even as we spectators on both sides of the border are pushed into unimagined bouts of national hysteria by a cricket eco-system that thrives on these match-ups. Which is also why in almost every global tournament, India and Pakistan invariably find themselves in the same group.
Which brings me to the final key point. Cricket between India and Pakistan is no longer about adhering to sporting protocols that frown upon the boycott of any national team. This is quite simply about the only thing that really matters in the greed-driven, amoral world of super-rich sports bodies: the size and volume of sponsorship money. An India-Pakistan cricket match will attract more eyeballs and advertising monies than all the other matches put together in the fortnight-long Asia Cup. It is the commerce of cricket that sustains Indo-Pak cricket. Poor ordinary Indian and Pakistanis divided by Partition won’t get visas to visit each other’s families in the Pahalgam aftermath but the VVIP elites of the two countries cricket boards will happily snuggle upto each other in air-conditioned boxes. Blood and water may not co-exist but the colour of money knows no such boundaries. Let the ‘war’ on the pitch begin!
(Rajdeep Sardesai is a senior journalist and author)
