The war of cricket rivalry between India & Pakistan and how much it values for Kashmir. It is not about winning or losing, it never was at least for me.Its not even about a cricket team, its always been about the idea behind the team. It was about being together in sadness and the moments of joy. It has always been about the stand, a well preserved secret, something which only we know. It was about the sense of sharing something common, something we can associate with. Kashmiris, other than pain and humiliation, have not shared much. This perhaps is one of those last things we share.

1. Kashmir: The Indices Of Green & Blue
Written by Azaan Javaid

2. Caller- Hello! - Azaana, uman ava jahnam (Azaan, I wish they end up in hell)
Me – Kyoho gai (what happened to you?)
Caller - Mooddai ha karukh Kharab, wallah ha osus paraan nafal vainnuk tain (They have ruined
my mood, I swear by God I was praying for them up until now)
Me – Cze kortha emi mojoob phone (Did you call for the purpose of telling me this)
Caller - Ahanu (Yes)
Me- Kya gai, myei kith parzeha zah nafal (have you ever thought of praying for me instead)
Caller – Yuna chuna waqt kaige karnas (This is not the time to be the ‘wise guy’)
Alas! Pakistan was defeated by their cricketing arch rivals, India, on the eve of 2011 Cricket
world cup semi finals. Speaking on the other side of the phone line was a close acquaintance, a
student of engineering in a university in Europe. I felt guilty the very moment he hung up on me
in disgust. He probably got angry as I couldn’t provide him any solace which he had intended to
look for before he decided to call me. Instead, I tried to crack some wise jokes even though the
intention was to ease out some tension, clearly unable to understand the intensity of his
displeasure over the way things unfolded that night.
But that was me. I have never been a cricket enthusiast. Not that I don’t like the game. I very
much love cricket - the sport for gentlemen, but at a level when I am playing and not only
cheering. I have always found it illogical to root for teams whose victories or losses do not
affect people tangibly. That has a lot to do with my quiet nature; I am yet to cry out loud on
seeing my team win matches or even share hugs. Handshakes - yes, they have been abundant
in number but anything more than that has been impossibility for me.
Just as I sat down on the couch of the studio apartment, the after effects of that night began to
seep in. Firecrackers exploding in the streets of southern Mumbai seemed much louder than I

3. expected. A rowdy gang of bikers stopped right outside the building, high on victory and alcohol
they were waving the tri colored flag. Not to my disappointment, the chanting was no where
close to patriot songs. At that point of time I wouldn’t have minded ultra patriotic and jingoistic
hymns. All I could hear was the unparliamentary mention of the mothers and sisters of the
defeated team. I remembered a particular test match at that moment which was played
between the same teams few years ago. Shahid Afridi, the only reason a majority of Kashmiri’s
watch cricket had hit 4 sixes off Harbhajan Singh’s bowling in a single over. An over joyous teen
in the moment of ecstasy had used an unpleasant word after the fourth six was hit. The whole
shop was full of men from all spheres of life, the young, the old, employees: government, non
government, the civilians and the police. All stared at him till he became conscious. After
people regained their temporary loss of interest in the match, he slyly walked out of the shop,
embarrassed perhaps.
Alas! In Mumbai, on the second of April 2011 no mercy was shown. By no means am I
suggesting that Kashmiris are more ‘civilized’ than their counterparts in the subcontinent. But I
remember moments of joy in Kashmir which had rather different manifestations. The fastest
century in one day cricket, the highest individual score of 194 and from what my elders tell me
the six that was hit from the last ball of the innings. However it wouldn’t be fair to say that only
Kashmiri people know how to truly appreciate a victory or a good cricketing day. In the first 20-
20 world cup finals I, along with a group of close friends (Non Kashmiris), went to a food court
to watch the grand finale. The place was full of students all over from India and abroad.
Without exaggeration, the number of Indian fans surpassed the number of opposition fans with
the ratio of almost a 1000 to one. That time I didn’t even know who Misbah was (the last man
standing against the Indian onslaught). At that time I considered myself to be the most
disinterested person in the whole crowd, but the experience was suffocating to an extent that I
wanted to cheer out loud in defiance. I wondered how long would a cricket-enthusiast Kashmiri
last if placed in my situation. It was the month of Ramadan, and as a part of standards of
breaking the fast, all Muslims pray to their God for things they desire, both tangible and
intangible. Just when I was about to break mine, I paused and said, “Today you know exactly
what I want.” (Of course not loud enough to be heard by others) Later that evening all hopes

4. were lost. The cheers and happiness were all around. Real happiness I must say; something we
had a very little experience of. The very moment people root for their national teams, in
Kashmir Article 144 is imposed. This is an occupation of not only the lands, but also of voices,
thoughts and feelings of the people. So much so, a Kashmiri becomes so conscious of the
support that it makes him/her feels like an occupied citizen even when he/she is not even in
Kashmir.
Three years later a newspaper with the largest readership in India carried an article which
suggested that the support for Pakistan is because of the fault line among Kashmiris. The article
said that the support for the men in green cuts through all ‘castes’, political ideologies, the so
called mainstream political parties, the pro-independence and the ones who didn’t care much
for politics, all according to the author supported the men in green. The reason given by the
author was that a cricket victory over India is the only way Kashmiri people can assert some
power over what they believe an oppressive presence. The article further suggested that
oppression on Kashmiris and the reaction resulting from it manifests itself in cricket matches
only; however Kashmiris have no love lost for the plurality India has. I disagree. In a place
where the number of unmarked graves runs in thousands, I would say to cheer for a team does
not top the 'To-do list' of the bereaved families.
Coming back to the night of 2nd April, Facebook statuses of the Indian cricket fans were all
gaga. Kashmiris on the other hand were silent, while some were furious and some chose to
empathize with the defeated cricketers. Some mentors and elders advised the youth not to be
disheartened. “Gindnas manz gaisna vadnus khasun” said one. (We should not cry foul after a
loss). My cell phone started to ring again. Messages (read taunts) from my friends came
splashing like the monsoon rains. I was drowned in my thoughts so I chose not to respond.
The loud bangs of firecrackers refused to mellow. They drowned every other voice, except the
one inside me. That night after I had made peace with myself I knew there will be someone in
more trouble than anyone else I know. Brother of a friend. I called the same friend to inquire
about the situation. He answered rather angrily. “You are as stupid as everyone else, what is

5. wrong with you people? It’s a game and we aren’t even playing. You know in ancient Rome,
Gladiators were made to fight which provided entertainment for the masses so that the people
would forget the main issues plaguing their society, just like modern day sports. You people are
jobless, including my brother” he said. Two days later when India lifted the world cup I called
him again “Hay kashrin kyazi yotha azaab, ahanu kotha karav bardash” (why are kashmiris in so
much pain and trouble? How much will we tolerate?) said the cricket hating philosopher. The
dark humor and the sarcastic overtone can be understood by Kashmiri’s better than anyone
else. It is funny how one can explain almost everything to everyone but not to oneself.
Just when distress was knocking my door, I saw a status update by a well known Kashmiri
blogger known for his satirical pieces. It said “Kashmir will be a sad place tonight”. I failed to
figure out what was about the status that relieved me almost immediately. But today I do.
It is not about winning or losing, it never was at least for me.Its not even about a cricket team,
its always been about the idea behind the team. It was about being together in sadness and the
moments of joy. It has always been about the stand, a well preserved secret, something which
only we know. It was about the sense of sharing something common, something we can
associate with. Kashmiris, other than pain and humiliation, have not shared much. This perhaps
is one of those last things we share.