‘Kohli, Kohli’ in Lahore

India, the power centre of world cricket, should in all probability crown itself as the ICC Champion Trophy winners in Dubai today. New Zealand will pose a challenge, no doubt, but given the strength of the Indian team and the favourable conditions they are playing in, it is hard to foresee an Indian defeat. However, cricket analysis is not my focus here. I want to swap my pragmatic view of the world for a more romantic, idealistic vision of life, politics and sports.

I let my imagination fly. I gain strength from historian CLR James’ oft-quoted lines from his classic ‘Beyond a Boundary’: “What do they know of cricket who only cricket know?” I let my mind’s eye imagine not just an Indian win but much more — an Indian win in front of a full house at Lahore’s Gaddafi Stadium. The Indian cricket team in Lahore. Thousands and thousands of Pakistanis cheering for Rohit Sharma as he walks up to the podium and lifts the trophy. The Indians celebrate, so does the crowd.

Before you ask, have I gone insane and am I creating a world that exists only in fantasy, let me remind you of a few hard facts. Indian cricket teams have travelled to Pakistan before, not once but multiple times. It may have on occasion got a hostile reception, but my generation has also been witness to the unbridled love and support the people have given to the team and the Indian fans. India’s 2004 tour of that country is a wonderful example of that reception, which melted the stubborn heart of even the most hardcore Pakistan hater.

My imagination draws inspiration from lived past experiences. If we deny them, we deny a part of our life that has a regenerative quality which revulsion and hate destroys. Lahore, the cultural capital of undivided Punjab, is a bustling, noisy, chaotic city, just like its counterpart Amritsar. They speak in more chaste Punjabi than I have heard in my own country.

The pain and wounds of Partition were still visible when I travelled there in 1997, 2004 and 2005. I was a few times approached by young, sturdy men, eager to know which part of Punjab I came from. Their big build scared me but all they wanted to know was if I could help them trace their relatives who may have been still alive and stayed back in that brutal Partition.

Veteran journalist Harpal Singh Bedi, now unfortunately no more, received a hero’s welcome wherever he went. His turban was not just a reminder of the guilt of the Muslim Pakistani, of the fratricide that Partition triggered, but also of the love and respect they nurtured for Sikhs.

India and cricket was a password in Pakistan that opened all the closed doors that we thought were shut forever.

The lessons from my travels to the cricket-playing world are that life can’t be seen in one single binary. Nothing is permanent. Neither life nor relationships should be taken for granted. This could be more true of the present world, where likes and dislikes are just a click away. Social media has transformed the world. It may have made it more toxic but its potential for changing the world for the better very much exists. Do you want to become a bridge to connect the divided world or build a wall to deepen the chasm?

Am I building a castle of fantasy on sand? Maybe not. Let my colleague of yesteryear and now a well-known TV cricket journalist, Vikrant Gupta, speak. He is so overwhelmed by the reception he got in Pakistan where he was for a few days during the Champions Trophy that he finds it difficult to express his reaction in words. Speaking from his hotel room in Dubai, Vikrant can’t stop himself from using the word “amazing” repeatedly.

He was mobbed, rarely allowed to spend from his pocket and wherever he went, he was the centre of attention, love and affection. Pakistan was simply in love with the Indian in Vikrant. In India, if you wear a shirt on which a star Pakistani cricketer’s name is written, it may invite the wrath of the public. In Pakistan, Virat Kohli is as much loved and hero-worshipped as in India. In Lahore, Vikrant says he went to a restaurant and a couple of thousand people collected outside to catch a glimpse of him. The street reverberated with the chants of ‘Kohli, Kohli’.

Vikrant says he tried to explain to them that Pakistan cannot support terror acts in India and expect India to play in Pakistan. “India is huge for them and they are hungry to seek our validation. They celebrated Kohli scoring a century against their team and had the final been held in Lahore, Pakistanis would have filled the stadium in support of India,” he says.

Imagine a billion Indians glued to their TV sets watching wave over wave of Pakistani fans screaming ‘Kohli, Kohli’ and giving India a standing ovation while Rohit and his men celebrate their victory. George Orwell may have said that a sporting contest is nothing but “war minus the shooting”, but it can also help people build a bridge of love and trust between two warring nations. It is easy to inject poison into a society but removing it is not as difficult as politicians would want us to believe.

— The writer is the author of ‘Not Quite Cricket’ and ‘Not Just Cricket’