Suryakumar Yadav, the Indian captain at the recent Asia Cup 2025 tournament, has highlighted what India has become in 2025. Perhaps he was ‘following orders’ and merely doing what he was told. Still, when we look at Sourav Ganguly (2000–2005) or Virat Kohli (2017–2021), former Indian captains caught up in the middle of Pakistan–India war-like tensions of the past, and look at their personal etiquette and behaviours, we feel the distance travelled.
A radicalised India is a subject for another article, but the outcomes of this unchecked hate-based behaviour towards a perceived or stated enemy country have seeped in so deeply that individuals are encouraged to become uncivil. The last time the world witnessed this kind of public display of hate was during the National Socialist German Party. Overt encouragement of a culture of differentiation, overt hate-based behaviour, in all aspects of life, including sport.
Yesterday, I was flicking through Netflix with a friend after the match, and we came across an Indian movie called Tehran. John Abraham, an Indian spy, is cosying up with the Israelis and going into Iran to target-kill an Iranian spy who had attacked Israelis in Delhi. The overt and the subliminal messaging in this movie really brought home how much India has changed. Or at least from my (naïve) perception of India’s principled positions. Making the Iranian spy a bisexual was a particularly crude image-building from the film. India really has pivoted unrecognisably.
I digress. As a Pakistani democrat and former cricket aficionado, shunning Mohsin Naqvi would not irk one, but for a sporting team in a tournament engaged in sports, the ultimate forum for anything but politics, it showed us how degenerate Indian society has become since the rise of Modi.
The butcher of Gujarat has succeeded in bringing to the brink the vilest base instincts of individuals, even those trained to play a game known to bridge all disagreements while on the field.
Closer to home, Mohsin Naqvi, enabling Salman Ali Agha’s team, in particular Haris Rauf’s misplaced ego, by publicly saying he would pay his 30% match fee fine, is also despicable; the militarisation and hate-mongering drip-fed into cricket, the last refuge for us to meet and enjoy a game together.
When I think about those times and compare what is happening now, it makes my heart break. How have we come to this?
I have travelled the length and breadth of India during the 1998/1999 Pakistan–India cricket tour; tensions, war and disagreements galore, but uncivil between the teams never. The sense of searing hate which we see openly today, I did not feel for an iota of a second. Even when angry spectators threw bottles at the Bangalore stadium or when spectators burned the Calcutta stadium, I did not feel what I see today.
I travelled with our team with Indian friends, and whether my team won or Sunita’s, we enjoyed the game. The same with the two teams! I recall an incident in Delhi, Feroz Shah Kotla, where I was sitting with our players and Sourav Ganguly, the Indian captain, sauntered casually towards us and asked Wasim Akram if I could sit instead with his boys for a while. Wasim, perplexed, asked why. Sourav said, “Well, you boys tend to win all the matches when she is sitting with you all.” We all laughed. The camaraderie and friendships between individual players were genuine, real and human. Harbhajan Singh, a new and young player in the Indian team, spent all his spare time with the Punjabi Pakistani players throughout the tour, because they had so much more in common with us.
In Calcutta, the most nerve-wracking Test match, where Shoaib Akhtar bowled Sachin Tendulkar his first golden duck, having dismissed Rahul Dravid in the previous ball, couldn’t get more tense; the stadium was emptied because the spectators began burning it down. Srinath took 13 wickets in that Test but lost the match. Every day of those crazy five days, we sat together in the evenings, Indian and Pakistani players, and laughed and talked about life. In fact, I recall asking Rahul Dravid to say VVS Laxman’s full name (Vangipurapu Venkata Sai Laxman) repeatedly because I could not get the pronunciation correct, and he did!
When I think about those times and compare what is happening now, it makes my heart break. How have we come to this? Players insulting one another, not shaking hands, not acknowledging one another, why are you playing this game? The business of cricket has lost its spirit.
This is not cricket.