[While
the Shiv Sena’s position is obviously extreme, in some way it reflects the
roller-coaster ride of Indo-Pak cricket over the past 68 years.]
By Ayaz Menon
With
profound apologies to Gabriel Garcia Marquez, that the Shiv Sena would disrupt
talks between BCCI president Shashank Manohar and PCB chairman Shahryar Khan in
Mumbai on Monday was a chronicle foretold.
The
right wing party, which keeps it cadres in a state of readiness through prickly
parochialism interspersed with dollops of xenophobia, has hardly ever sought
strong reason to erupt into protest, often violently so. In an atmosphere that
appears surcharged by intolerance nationally, the Sena needed barely a nudge to
go on the rampage.
Of
course, nothing the Sena has done has been as dire as the Dadri lynching or the
murder of rationalists and writers. But it has certainly increased the
frequency and stridency of its protests, with Mumbai as the playing ground for
its grisly antics and visiting Pakistanis as the target.
Only
a few days ago, it forced a ghazal concert by maestro Ghulam Ali, who has
performed several times in the city in the past, to be cancelled. Ironically, the
concert was in honour of the late Jagjit Singh.
This
was followed almost immediately by the grotesque protest preceding the launch
of a book by former Pakistan foreign minister Khurshid Mahmud Kasuri. Sudheendra
Kulkarni, head of the Observer Research Foundation which had organised the
event, was doused in ink by activists.
To
believe the Sena would allow the heads of the cricket Boards of India and Pakistan to hold talks, among other things for the
resumption of bilateral ties in the near future, in the present circumstances
was, therefore, hopelessly misplaced.
While
the Shiv Sena’s position is obviously extreme, in some way it reflects the
roller-coaster ride of Indo-Pak cricket over the past 68 years.
With
profound apologies to Gabriel Garcia Marquez, that the Shiv Sena would disrupt
talks between BCCI president Shashank Manohar and PCB chairman Shahryar Khan in
Mumbai on Monday was a chronicle foretold.
The
right wing party, which keeps it cadres in a state of readiness through prickly
parochialism interspersed with dollops of xenophobia, has hardly ever sought
strong reason to erupt into protest, often violently so. In an atmosphere that
appears surcharged by intolerance nationally, the Sena needed barely a nudge to
go on the rampage.
Of
course, nothing the Sena has done has been as dire as the Dadri lynching or the
murder of rationalists and writers. But it has certainly increased the
frequency and stridency of its protests, with Mumbai as the playing ground for its
grisly antics and visiting Pakistanis as the target.
Only
a few days ago, it forced a ghazal concert by maestro Ghulam Ali, who has
performed several times in the city in the past, to be cancelled. Ironically, the
concert was in honour of the late Jagjit Singh.
This
was followed almost immediately by the grotesque protest preceding the launch
of a book by former Pakistan foreign minister Khurshid Mahmud Kasuri. Sudheendra
Kulkarni, head of the Observer Research Foundation which had organised the
event, was doused in ink by activists.
To
believe the Sena would allow the heads of the cricket Boards of India and Pakistan to hold talks, among other things for the
resumption of bilateral ties in the near future, in the present circumstances
was, therefore, hopelessly misplaced.
The
Sena uses the patriot-versus-Pakistan card whenever it wants to score brownie
points, and consensus opinion among political analysts is that the target at
the moment seems to be its ally in the Maharashtra government, the Bharatiya Janata Party. The
BJP’s massive win in the Lok Sabha and assembly elections has caused a shrinking
of the political space for the Shiv Sena, inducing perhaps a sense of paranoia
and leading to its increased stridency.
In
the prevailing circumstances, whether the Indo-Pak cricket talks could not have
been scheduled in some other city by the BCCI is a moot point. It is also begs
the question why the BJP, given its inability to prevent the Sena from creating
a law and order issue, did not advise the BCCI against making Mumbai the venue.
But
these questions are necessarily imbued with a sense of poignant sadness for
cricket lovers. Mumbai has long been the nursery and bastion for Indian cricket.
To see it become the epicentre of dissent rather than progress in cricket is
dismaying.
Ironically,
the family (and senior functionaries) who have controlled the Shiv Sena since
its inception have been avowed cricket lovers, none more so than the late
supremo Balasaheb Thackeray. In fact, the senior Thackeray was open in his
appreciation of Pakistani cricket stalwarts (though not the country) and once
even hosted Javed Miandad at his residence.
Exploiting
cricket’s appeal
But
the Shiv Sena has also exploited massive cricket’s appeal as a medium for
rabble-rousing and protest, particularly against Pakistan . In this aspect the party has been solidly
consistent. It was in 1991 that Sena activists dug up the Wankhede Stadium pitch
to disallow Pakistan from playing in Mumbai, and their stand hasn’t changed for
a quarter of a century. If anything, it has hardened and become almost a
calling card for the party’s politics.
While
the Sena’s position is obviously extreme, in some way it reflects the roller-coaster
ride of Indo-Pak cricket over the past 68 years. It is unlike sporting
relations between two countries anywhere in history: complex and captivating, frustrating
and fascinating.
The
burden of Partition, with its derivatives of national identity and religion, has
played out to the orchestra of jingoism, with sentiment and tension running
high on either side every time the two countries have met on a cricket field.
The
fragility of the political relations between the two countries has seen cricket
being played in fits and bursts. But ever so often, it is cricket that has
salvaged these relations from nose-diving to a point of no return.
In
the 1950s, Indo-Pak cricket was dull and attritional. Neither country wanted to
lose, so few risks were taken. These matches became vehicles for chauvinism, one-upmanship
and mutual suspicion. Allegations of cheating abounded, so much so that in 1955
when India were touring Pakistan, Abdul Hafeez Kardar, who was captaining the
home side and Lala Amarnath, manager of the Indian team, almost came to blows
in the foyer of their hotel in Karachi because the Indian suspected that the
umpires had been fixed. Amarnath, who had been born in Lahore , and Kardar, who had played for India before Partition, were chums-turned-adversaries.
Some years later, they were on back-slapping terms again.
On
this side of the divide too, passions ran equally high and when Pakistan toured
in 1961-62, opening batsman Hanif Mohammed had his hand slashed by a fan who
saw him as the biggest threat to India.
In
the half century since, relations between players from either side have
improved enormously without any of the intensity of beating the ‘arch rival’
being lost, leading to some memorable performances by players and teams from
both countries.
But
the frequency of cricket engagement has been volatile, depending on the
prevailing political mood. For instance, it took 16 years after the 1961-62
tour for cricket between the two countries to be resumed. In the interim, India and Pakistan went to war twice.
When
play was restarted, the fervour and passion of fans on either side showed what
the cricket world had missed: it also defined Indo-Pak cricket as the biggest
blockbuster in the sport.
Off-shore
cricket, notably in Sharjah between 1982 and 1999, and subsequently Canada , not only kept the turnstiles ringing for
promoters and offered livelihood to the players, but also ensured the survival
of Indo-Pak cricket against the vagaries of the political relations between the
two countries.
In
between, India and Pakistan also collaborated twice to host the World
Cup, in 1987 (when England ’s hegemony over the tournament was broken) and
1996 (along with Sri Lanka ). At least where cricket politics is
concerned, the two Boards have been more or less in sync for a long while.
Interestingly,
‘hardline’ politicians have been at the forefront in promoting Indo-Pak cricket.
In 1978, the ice was broken by dictator Zia-ul-Haq and Jan Sangh’s Atal Behari
Vajpayee, foreign minister in Morarji Desai’s government. In 2004, it was L.K. Advani
of the NDA who signalled the resumption of bilateral cricket ties that had been
suspended since the Kargil War in 1999.
There
has been no bilateral Test series between the two countries since 2007 though
the teams have met in a one-day series in 2013 and play each other in ICC
tournaments everywhere. The 26/11 terror attack on Mumbai was obviously a major
setback to cricket relations and administrators in the BCCI and PCB have been
striving since to set the ball rolling again.
Given
the extraordinary history of the two countries, this is always an obstacle
course to run, and dependent entirely on the mood and compulsions of the
political dispensation in power.
On
current evidence, it appears that Pakistan — both the government and cricket board — is
eager to resume cricket. The Indian political establishment has waxed and waned.
While back channel diplomacy continues, it is unclear whether there are enough
signals for the BCCI to take a major step.
This
confusion comes through statements made by secretary Anurag Thakur, who says
there can be no progress in cricket till the governments talk and senior
functionary Rajiv Shukla who says talks between the two Boards will continue
irrespective of the Sena protest. To paraphrase a popular song, their stands
are clear as mud.
Meanwhile,
the Shiv Sena gloats in misconstrued triumphalism while a city and Indian
cricket are besmirched.
(Ayaz
Memon is a Mumbai-based senior journalist who writes on cricket, politics and
other issues.)