In what now seems like the distant past, cricket matches between India and Pakistan were gripping affairs, steeped in tension and nerves, and extraordinary quality. There was an array of glittering superstars in both camps; India had the batting, Pakistan a seemingly endless supply of high-class fast bowlers who, to misquote Geoffrey Boycott, could obtain swing with even an orange.
Contests between these two proud nations were exactly that – contests that were no holds barred. Contrary to this age where players don’t even look in each other’s direction, let alone shake hands and exchange pleasantries, Indian and Pakistani stars struck up long-lasting friendships that have stood the test of time. Nothing illustrates the bond formed in those days better than the Shaz and Waz camaraderie – Ravi Shastri and Wasim Akram continue to be great friends whose relationship isn’t based on nationality.
But we digress. Or do we? Even in this competitive era where professionalism has been lent new meaning, it is not as if friendships and relationships don’t exist between players from different countries. Virat Kohli shares an excellent rapport with his brother from another mother, A.B. de Villiers, and with Faf du Plessis, under whom he played for Royal Challengers Bengaluru after giving up the captaincy. But when it comes to India and Pakistan, whatever happens on the field is alone what happens. There is nothing that happens off it, and even on the field, apart from the tussle between bat and ball, nothing is being allowed to happen anymore.
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Even a year back, it wasn’t so. While the countries were at loggerheads politically, nothing stopped the players from extending a hand of friendship. Everything changed after the April 22 Pahalgam attack in which 26 innocent civilian tourists lost their lives after a dastardly, cowardly terror attack. In the first senior men’s cricketing outing between the nations in Dubai in September, Suryakumar Yadav studiedly refrained from shaking hands with Salman Agha at the T20 Asia Cup, unquestionably following instructions from his bosses, who themselves might have been following instructions from theirs.
That set off a crazy sequence of events that has done no one any credit. Sport isn’t just about turning up on the field of play, getting the job done – one way or the other – and going their separate ways. It is intended to foster bonds and forge goodwill but clearly, neither of that is on India’s agenda, at the very least.
The brouhaha that accompanied the no-handshake policy in Dubai was conspicuously absent in Colombo on Sunday when the teams locked horns in a Group A league fixture of the T20 World Cup. Suryakumar had been pointedly asked at the pre-match presser if he would offer a handshake, to which he replied nonchalantly and without the seriousness the question demanded: “Wait for 24 hours and you will find out.” A few hours previously, Agha was asked what his reaction would be if a handshake was forthcoming from his Indian counterpart. He was equally coy while saying, “You will know tomorrow.”
In the end, we never could discover what Pakistan’s stance would have been, because Suryakumar’s hand remained steadfastly by his side. Match referee Richie Richardson, the former West Indian captain, had, one presumes, made everything clear so that there were no misgivings and there was no scope for miscommunication. Suryakumar flipped the coin, Agha called, called right, spoke first to Pommie Mbangwa, then whirled away towards his dugout as Suryakumar walked up to explain his team’s strategy and the personnel changes India had rung in. The entire episode barely registered a 1 on the Richter Scale, perhaps so insensitive have we become to something that goes against the very ethos of sport.
India’s Suryakumar Yadav and Pakistan’s Salman Ali Agha at the toss during the ICC Men’s T20 Cricket World Cup 2026 match, at R. Premadasa Stadium, in Colombo.
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ANI
Glorious past
It isn’t this alone that has changed when it comes to India, Pakistan and cricket. As briefly alluded to at the top of this piece, this is no longer a battle of equals. The days when Sachin Tendulkar went toe to toe with Akram and Waqar Younis, or Sourav Ganguly and Mohammad Azharuddin were tested by Saqlain Mushtaq, are in the past. Irfan Pathan’s screaming inswing that netted him a first-over hat-trick in the Karachi Test of 2006 or Anil Kumble’s craft and guile that made him just the second man (at that time) in history to take all 10 Test wickets in an innings in Delhi in 1999, are well and truly behind us.
Anil Kumble of India, who took 10 wickets for 74 runs in the second innings, celebrates the dismissal of Wasim Akram of Pakistan being caught by V.V.S. Laxman for 37 runs during the second Test match between India and Pakistan held at Feroz Shah Kotla Ground, New Delhi on February 08, 1999.
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THE HINDU ARCHIVES
Occasionally, Pakistan will roll the clock back and trouble, even overcome, India – like in the T20 World Cup league clash in Dubai in 2021 or in an Asia Cup Super Four tie at the same venue a year later. But for the most part, it’s been India and India alone for the last decade and more. In ODI World Cups, India hold a perfect 8-0 record while in its T20 counterpart, they enjoy an overwhelming 8-1 record. Sunday night’s 61-run drubbing, eked out in the shadow of the boycott that wasn’t, was the perfect illustration of why India enjoy a combined 16-1 advantage over their neighbours in all World Cups.
The better team doesn’t always carry the night, especially in 20-over cricket; it’s the team that plays better in those three and a half hours that comes out triumphant. India didn’t just play the better cricket, they were clearly the better team who have perfected the art of setting emotion aside even though they aren’t churlish enough to hide behind ‘This is just another match’ platitudes and cliches.
On match eve, Suryakumar conceded that there would be pressure, more than normal, because that was the nature of India-Pakistan battles. It’s a view his deputy Axar Patel echoed after the commanding victory had been sealed and delivered, with a cute bow tie on top. As much as the players might try to insulate themselves from ‘outside noise’, there is always a message here, a word there, an entreaty from somewhere else, to ‘beat them.’ How can one not be influenced by such factors?
The trick is not to fight it but ride with it, and that’s something Indian teams have managed successfully over the years. To try to keep harping that this is just another game, which it clearly isn’t, will be nothing if not counterproductive. But as they say in cricket, you play the ball and not the bowler, and therefore you play the opponent, not the banner under which the opponent has turned out. Through successive generations of performers, India have found the perfect way to embrace the pressure without allowing themselves to be overwhelmed by it, which might be a simplistic way of explaining their unmatched superiority but which also is most certainly a major contributing factor.
Fearless mindset
In Colombo, India were turbo-charged by the electric, effervescent, diminutive Ishan Kishan, who reiterated that wonderful things come in small packages. To imbibe the daredevilry he showcased on a stage such as the World Cup and an occasion that involved their fiercest rivals as their opponents called for a special mindset, a mindset bereft of self-doubt and the fear of failure. Often, the fear of failure is more debilitating than failure itself; inorganic conservatism comes with a massive no-no attached to it because that’s how the natural order of things are. Kishan didn’t try to play differently just because he was up against Pakistan and could/would be pilloried if he was dismissed attempting an outrageous stroke. True, he had the full backing of the leadership group to stick to what comes naturally and best to him. But even so, to be able to go out and bat the way he did on a surface that tested the mettle of everyone who came out to bat was great credit to the 27-year-old’s thinking process and the extraordinarily positive headspace he has cultivated.
Kishan wasn’t risk-averse so much as calculating in the kind of risks he took. He played the percentages wonderfully well, and because his off-side game has improved by leaps and bounds, he can no longer be tied down by packing one side of the wicket and staying away from his areas of strength. He was both the trend-setter and the enforcer, the brutal ball-basher whose 77 off 40 on a pitch where everyone else struggled was more than worth its weight in pure gold.
Perhaps because they believed the floaty lies around them or perhaps because they themselves were convinced so, Pakistan banked on spin to do the job for them. Spin did, and it didn’t, if you know what we mean; between them, Mohammad Nawaz, Saim Ayub and Usman Tariq, hyped up by the Indian media more than anyone else, finished with four for 77 from 12 overs, just reward for sticking to their disciplines and allowing the pitch to do the rest. Leggies Abrar Ahmed and Shadab Khan bowled poorly and were mercilessly punished, taken for 55 in four wicketless overs. Shaheen Afridi, a bete noire until three years ago for his ability to swing the ball back into the right-handers at great pace from a left-arm over angle, was reduced to two token but massively expensive overs that leaked 31.
By contrast, India’s less talked-up spinners — lest we should forget, Varun Chakaravarthy is the No. 1 T20I bowler in the world — joined hands for a combined six for 80 from 13 overs while their fast bowlers, the peerless Jasprit Bumrah and Pakistani nemesis Hardik Pandya, boasted four for 33 from five overs. Pakistan used only two overs of pace, one at either end of their bowling innings; India’s quicks bowled the first four overs of the Pakistani chase. By the end of the second over, a target of 176 appeared Everest-ian, the top three gone with just 13 on the board. India reiterated that there is no substitute for quality; it wasn’t so much about pace alone or spin alone but about using a blend of the two judiciously, trusting quality and immense skill-sets and refusing to be drawn into cute theories and a heightened estimation of one’s craft and strengths.
For all the hype in the lead-up to a match that nearly didn’t happen until it finally did, this contest was singularly disappointing, flat and one-sided. How long do we continue to whip up this rivalry when clearly, it is a rivalry only in reams of newsprint, in the digital space or on airwaves but no longer on the field of play?
