The T20 World Cup is far from over and it has already created more controversy on the sidelines than the action on the pitch. First, there was Mohammad Rizwan catching a quick namaz in the drinks break, and Waqar Younis having his own reverse swing, sorry, spin on it. Then the trolls went hammer and tongs after poor Mohammed Shami.
Kashmiri students who celebrated Pakistan’s victory by bursting crackers were booked for sedition in UP. In their defence it must be said that Diwali is round the corner; people do start early. I wish they were more tactful though. Clapping is less in-your-face than bursting crackers. Clap as much as you want when the match ends. If the authorities question your actions, say that you were just appreciating good cricket all round.
Fandom in cricket is a mysterious thing. During a World Cup in England, I, along with several Indian fans, began supporting Pakistan. After India bowed out of the tournament, it felt natural to us to shift allegiance to a team from the subcontinent. In any case, in England, we are all clubbed together as Asians. My Aussie friends were puzzled. We were at the stadium in Leeds, watching Pakistan take on Australia, and I was rooting for Pakistan. The Aussies were like: But you’re sitting with us! I said: But India and Pakistan have a shared history; my father’s family hails from Lahore. Fortunately, no sedition charges were pressed.
Meanwhile, Quinton de Kock refused to take the knee — clearly a knee jerk reaction — in support of the Black Lives Movement and pulled out of the playing XI at the very last minute. He later changed his mind and issued a statement (ours really is the age of statements), and went on to feature in a Volini commercial. In the ad he is unable to take the knee because of a knee sprain and is in danger of missing the match. Volini, voila!
Over in Pakistan, Shoaib Akhtar and a TV anchor fought on live television; egos clashed as the Rawalpindi Express thundered out of the studio, as crowded as the train itself. David Gower and Viv Richards looked like frozen lizards. Or rather, they didn’t know where to look.
Let’s dedicate the rest of this column to the fraught issue of religion and cricket. That surely ranks as the biggest one among the controversies I listed above. It must be said that of all sports, cricket is the most worship-friendly. Unlike football, it has so many breaks built into it, it suits the needs of the advertisers and the devout alike. It’s not that footballers don’t pray, except that the praying moment is built into the goal-scoring celebration. It’s short and quick; there’s no time for leisurely namaz. The Egyptian striker Mo Salah for instance performs a prayer of thanks by getting to his knees and placing his head on the ground. The act is called sujud. It’s over in a few seconds.
Cricket, on the other hand, is tailor-made for praying. One can, if one wants, pray during the lunch and tea breaks, at the toss, and in the commercial break (which keep getting longer and longer) between overs. It’s a separate debate if players should mix religion and sport, though most will agree it’s a matter of personal choice. The old-timers will recall the days of ‘secular’ superstition when the red handkerchief performed the good-luck role in the game of glorious uncertainties. God, back then, resided in the humble red hanky.
It’s not just Pakistanis who pray, though they do have a habit of thanking god more so than other cricket-playing nations. A post-match interview often goes like this:
Presenter: What was the most crucial passage of play?
Pakistani player: First of all I’d like to thank Allah.
Presenter: Was the toss the deciding factor?
Pakistani player: First of all I’d like to thank Allah.
Presenter: Will you stick to the same playing XI in the next match?
Pakistani player: First of all I’d like to thank Allah.
And so on...
To be honest, it makes for more interesting listening than the Indian players who speak in ready-made corporate phrases, with no religious colour whatsoever. Their MBA-speak goes like this: ‘Boys showed intent’, ‘back myself’, ‘play natural game’, ‘execute plans’ and ‘concentrate on the process, not the result’. ‘Controlling the controllables’ used to be in vogue till a few years ago.
Rizwan prayed, Pakistan won the match and we would have lived happily ever after. But then Waqar Younis had to go and stoke controversy by saying that Rizwan’s praying was all the more commendable because he did it while being surrounded by Hindus. This one is baffling because these are Hindu cricket players we are talking about here, not a bloodthirsty mob. They have bats in their hands, not swords. The cricket ball has been known to kill but no one was chucking it like an out-of-context grenade.
Besides, the Hindus would have prayed too except that it’s a logistical headache for us. Suppose there are three players in the Indian team: Amar, Akbar and Anthony; they all want to pray while playing. Akbar and Anthony have it easy: A Maggi namaz or crossing the heart doesn’t take too much time. But the Hindu needs an entire cricket team: Priest, ghee, incense, firewood, matchbox, gangajal, etc. You see it’s just too complicated and time-consuming to bring this assortment on to the cricket field. A red tilak is an option though.
Back to Waqar. Sure enough, his comment about Hindus went up in a fireball, and Waqar, like de Kock, got busy issuing his own statement of apology. The bhakts from our side, not to be outdone, decided to go after Shami, though later Pakistani hands into the Shami trolling were discovered. The next day again was spent in the favourite pastime of the twenty-first century: Issuing statements. As our commentators and players condemned the trolls and lent support to Shami, I felt an opportunity was lost to make a bigger statement, one which would have confused both the Shami trolls and Waqar Younis. Shami ought to have gone down on his knees and offered namaz himself, with his Hindu teammates forming a protective ring around him. Waqar would have realised that saying namaz amongst Hindus is not a maverick act of courage — just a simple matter of faith. The trolls would have gone into paroxysms of beetroot rage — always a pleasant sight to behold. It would have taught them that the freedom to practice one’s religion does not dilute a player’s loyal patriotism and love for his nation.
The writer is the author of ‘The Butterfly Generation’ and the editor of ‘House Spirit: Drinking in India’. The views expressed are personal.
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