Before coming to Pakistan, my closest connection to the country was my grandfather, who had worked in Karachi for a year before Partition. He had spoken highly of the city so, if there was one place I had to visit during my short tour of the country, it was Karachi.
The beach is just 30 km away from the scene of cricketing action in the port city but, unfortunately, I had to spend most of my day around the National Stadium, an area called Sadar. With deadlines to meet, and the media centre shutting down, I was rapidly getting into a tizzy, when stadium scorer Noman Nazir appeared, offering to drive me around in search of a cybercafe.
The 23-year-old student of public administration and cricket fanatic was keen to dispell my doubts about the (un)safety factor. ‘‘There is no problem. Sab theek hai yahan, media ne kharab kiya hai naam,’’ he told me as he drove me into the busy market area. It is 10 in the night, and the place is still buzzing and cybercafes are still open, if expensive.
After I finish filing my story, Nazir advises me to tuck away my press card. ‘‘Otherwise people will be constantly asking you why you’re here,’’ he says. I do as I’m told, and for the next half-hour, Nazir drives me all over town before stopping at an old restaurant so I could get to eat kababs ‘‘made only in Karachi’’. All through the ride, I notice scores of people on their way back from work, families and kids relaxing in the cool night air. There’s no sign of any tension anywhere.
LINKING UP WITH LINKING ROAD
As match day dawns, I find myself in the downtown Clifton area, another locality familiar to us across the border. Some walls bear slogans of the separatist Muttahaida Quami Movement (MQM), but they appear to be years old.
On Saturday some of us decide to check out the Main Tariq Road, Karachi’s shopping centre. Immediately, we draw parallels with Linking Road, the teeming crowds and the frenzied shopping familiar to all of us from Mumbai.
THIS ONE’S FOR GRANDAD
After a hectic two days, when the time comes to check out, another local helps me out. His name is Deewan Das, one of the many Hindus whose families chose to stay back in Pakistan. As we complete the check-out formalities, Das requests all of us to come back again. ‘‘We have lived here for ages, and I can assure you there’s no better place,’’ he says. I can almost see my grandfather nodding.
Watch out, the Indians are here!
Cricket
Pakistan waits with barely suppressed excitement for the mother of all battles
By C. Sujit Chandra Kumar/Lahore
Well, that is not only Urdu, it is Punjabi, Latin and Greek. Very roughly translated, it could mean that when Indians come, Uncle and Aunty will make merry. Chacha stands for Chacha Cricket or Uncle Cricket. It is the affectionate nickname of Abdul Jaleel of Sialkot near Jammu. Chachi is his wife.
Return of the king: ( Above) Sachin Tendulkar, flanked by security, at Allama Iqbal International airport in Lahore
Yes, the Pakistan Cricket Board’s sponsored cheerleader, the mullah-like figure with the special cap and huge flag you might have noticed on television whenever and wherever Pakistan is playing, is busy coining new slogans. He is thrilled that the Indians are coming to his country after a gap of 14 years.
Strictly speaking, he has not missed the Indians much. He was in India in 1999 and was certainly there at the World Cups when the Indians sent his heroes crashing. The veteran of 36 years and 400 matches has this message for Pakistan fans: “Don’t bet, just enjoy.”
Amid a deluge of cliches like ‘We are brothers’, ‘After all, it is the same country’, ‘One language, one culture and the same curse words’, Mustafa the travel agent comes as a huge relief. He says Lahore was founded by and named after Lava, son of Rama of the mandir fame. More irreligiously, he adds, Multan was founded by Satan. Mustafa is anxious to know if more visas to Pakistan are being given. “Everybody is making a killing, especially the hoteliers who have increased the rates by 100 and 200 per cent,” he says.
Former spin wizard Abdul Qadir says that he has never seen so much expectation for a cricket team in Pakistan. “The reception was tremendous when I toured India in 1979 as part of Asif Iqbal’s team,” he says. “The fans here love Rahul Dravid, V.V.S. Laxman and Sachin Tendulkar.”
Sachin is everyone’s favourite, but they also admire Laxman and Dravid. Qadir says Dravid is both Steve Waugh and Steel Wall-a nice turn of the phrase from the master of spin, who goes ga-ga about the technique of Akash Chopra and the flamboyance of Yuvraj Singh. Chopra is just a century away from greatness while Singh should be persisted with even if gets six consecutive ducks, is Qadir’s prescription to coach John Wright and the Indian selectors.
It may be an irony that a British groundsman is coming to curate and rule but it is no coincidence that an army, barmy or not, of 25 British scribes are coming to report on the tamasha. “Andy Atkinson has given me some tips on how to prepare the wicket but the basic methodology remains the same,” says Mohammed Bashir, the Lahore curator, pushing a key into the pitch in Tony Greig style. It refuses to go in, but there are tiny cracks all over. Bashir remembers how small Sachin Tendulkar was when he played on this track and how big he has become ever since.
Listening to Bashir, one gets the feeling that the ball may dominate the bat in the one-day series. He says he expects scores in the range of 200 to 250. “Maybe 275,” he says, after some hesitation.
Imran Khan, Zaheer Abbas, Younis Ahmed, you name them, and they have all made it clear that India has the edge. Mind games reached the second stage with Pakistan captain Inzamam-ul-Haq all but admitting that his team is second best; he, as well as coach Javed Miandad, is hoping that this would ease off the pressure.
Andy Atkinson [British groundsman] has given some tips but the basic methodology remains the same, says Mohammed Bashir, curator.
Younis gives all credit to Wright, against whom he has played a lot of county cricket. “Unlike the teams of the 70s and 80s which were weak, compared with Pakistan, India now has a side with confidence,” he says.
Younis, who still socialises a lot with Indian players of his era like Mansur Ali Khan Pataudi, Ajit Wadekar, Sunil Gavaskar and Kapil Dev, admits that India now fields very well and dives to prevent runs. “Once upon a time, we would tease the Indian captains about what kind of team they have brought and beat them in three days but it is no longer the case,” he says.
But Younis, who was 40 when he came to India as a player, knows it is all about handling pressure. “Once, when we shared a tremendous partnership, I told Rameez Raja to forget that a crowd was watching us. Just imagine an empty stadium, I told him,” he says. “The pressure of an Indo-Pak match is more than anything you can imagine.”
Yes, it is all in the mind but it is also going to be on the body. Remember what New Zealand’s Stephen Fleming came up with after his side was swept away by Shoaib Akhtar in Wellington a few months ago: “We don’t get exposed to 150 mph inswingers that often. I don’t think it was application or commitment that was missing. It came down to the skill issue.”
Meanwhile, there are voices of surprise and anger about how Shahid Afridi has been selected, when he has not played a match since the 2003 World Cup. Chief selector Wasim Bari seems to be a pet hate object for many, including journalists, and the choice of Afridi has been more of a national shock than nuclear scientist Abdul Qadir Khan’s confessions.
Pick a cricket fan, Kamal Siddiqi, and ask him about the series. “I get this feeling that Indians are going to beat us. Our boys are more worried about their looks and their female fans while Indians just concentrate on their cricket,” he says, his expression betraying his silent prayer that his words will not come true.
Enthusiasm for the first one-dayer was so much in Karachi that ticket sales had to be stopped and when the counters opened the following day, they got sold out like roghini nans in Lahore’s Food Street.
“It is a measure of the excitement that the focus has shifted from how to sell tickets to how to buy tickets,” says Qadir. A sour note was added when the 70-odd residents around the Col. Qaddafi Stadium-who are facing eviction because of the elaborate security arrangements and new construction being planned by the PCB-organised a protest.
Lahore’s roads are noisy but the stadium resembles a fortress. Thousands of securitymen, uniformed and in plainclothes, including the elite Frontier Constabulary personnel, are guarding the stadium.
Combing for explosives will be a regular feature in all routes and enclosures, the pavilion, the dressing-room and the hotel rooms of the Indian players. A special reaction force has been set up to deal with any untoward incident within minutes.
According to reports, the Water and Power Development Authority has been asked to ensure uninterrupted supply of electricity to deny any advantage to potential terrorists. The Indian players, as well as their Pakistani counterparts, will have layers of security at any given time and they will be forced to stick to the stadium-hotel room routine.
Spectators are being advised to arrive at the grounds two hours before the start of the match and not to bring anything with them including mobile phones. It is going to be a tense, nervy, and, ultimately, unforgettable series. Stay tuned for the ride.
The Indian media is full of stories praising Pakistan. Looking at these articles one wonders whether these are enemies.
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"The reception has been extremely heart-warming," said Dinesh Vanjani, an Indian computer distributor, who was watching the game in Karachi. "When we went shopping we only had Indian rupees, so the shop owners said: 'We will not accept any currency from you. Please consider these [products] as our gifts to you'."
But it was the atmosphere among the 33,000 mostly Pakistani spectators at the National Stadium in Karachi that was most striking. The organisers decided to scatter the roughly 1,000 Indian spectators throughout the crowd in what some believed was an unnecessary risk. Crowds in Karachi can be highly volatile.
But events, on and off the field, vindicated their decision. Banging plastic bottles and other implements in rhythmic unison, the Pakistani spectators chanted: "Pakistan Zindabad! [Long Live Pakistan!] Pakistan Zindabad!" to thunderous effect. In deference to their visitors, they switched their chanting to "India Zindabad!" regularly. Some Pakistanis were waving the Indian flag and generous applause greeted impressive play by India's cricketers.
"Just before the game I wished India's team the best of luck," said Major Saifullah, who was in charge of VIP security at the ground. "Sourav Ganguly [India's captain] replied: 'Well if the Pakistan military are wishing us luck then we definitely feel safe'.
Visiting Indian celebrities had no qualms about plunging into the crowds to sign autographs. There was a slight frisson when Priyanka and Rahul Gandhi, the daughter and son of Sonia Gandhi, the Italian-born leader of India's opposition Congress party, arrived at the ground. Many Pakistanis stood and applauded the two heirs of India's Nehru-Gandhi dynasty.
Both Priyanka and Rahul deny any political ambitions. But their interaction with ordinary people struck Pakistanis as politically deft. "We are not accustomed to people like this in Pakistan," said a local businessman, who withheld his name. "We are ruled by a military elite who don't see any profit in shaking our hands."
The noise from the crowd rose steadily throughout the day as the home team looked increasingly capable of pulling off an unlikely victory. The streets of big cities across India and Pakistan were reportedly empty as television viewing broke new records (estimated to be several hundred million).
Outside the ground roughly 10,000 police and soldiers stood nervous guard - Pakistan's security forces fear an al-Qaeda attack on the visiting India team during the 40-day tour. Police helicopters regularly buzzed the stadium, but the roar of the crowd drowned out the sound.
The striking hospitality of Karachi's crowds must have eased some of the worst fears of organisers in both countries. None of the Pakistani spectators seemed to mind in the least that their side finally lost. "We are very struck by the generosity of spirit," said Mr Vanjani, who has never visited Pakistan before. "I will go home feeling optimistic."
A bloodcurdling scream pierced the pre-dawn silence of a tidy cluster of apartments in Colorado Springs on Saturday.
It was the shriek of a man who had been caught in the throes of battle for six hours and finally gained the upper hand.
Anyone investigating the cry expecting to find a murder scene instead would have come across Abhijit Shroff.
The polite Indian software engineer was jumping up and down in front of a cricket game on his TV while six Indian men around him exploded in highfives, and one Pakistani man quietly reminded them that the India versus Pakistan game they were watching wasn’t finished.
“I can’t believe it! Yes, Yes!” Shroff shouted.
One of Pakistan’s best players had finally struck out after scoring 122 runs, and Shroff couldn’t contain his joy, even though it was 5 a.m.
Nuclear rivals India and Pakistan have been trying to improve relations in the past few months. They have re-established bus and train service, scheduled talks concerning the disputed region of Kashmir, and for the first time in 14 years, the Indian cricket team is visiting Pakistan for matches.
An estimated billion people tuned into the first game Saturday morning, including diehard immigrant fans in the United States.
The fact that a 12-hour time difference meant the game started in Colorado at 9 p.m. Friday and lasted until 6 a.m. the next morning didn’t stop them.
“To see India play Pakistan is the ultimate — nothing comes close,” said Raymond Mascarenhas, the Indian captain of the local cricket team who put off sleep to watch the eight-hour match.
The two south Asian countries have perhaps the greatest sports rivalry in the world.
“It’s like the Denver Broncos and the Oakland Raiders times 10,” said Moe Younas, the lone Pakistani among Indian friends.
Actually, it’s more serious. The neighboring nations have clashed since they were carved from Britain’s Indian empire in 1947.
Since then, Muslim-dominated Pakistan and Hindu-dominated India have fought three wars and innumerable skirmishes about the disputed border region of Kashmir.
Two years ago, India and Pakistan mobilized almost 1 million troops because Islamic terrorists attacked the Indian Parliament.
Recently, tempers have cooled.
In January, Pakistani President Pervez Musharraf met Indian’s Prime Minister Atal Bihari Vajpayee and agreed to try to find a lasting peace.
With guns lowered, the neighboring countries could resume their other fierce battle: cricket.
The game’s closest cousin in the sports family is baseball. It spread throughout the former British empire and is still played today in former colonies from South Africa to the West Indies.
South Asians are particularly dedicated fans.
Martin Theoder looked away from the TV during a break to say he has friends across the country staying up to watch the same match.
“Everybody is watching. There are three other houses in the city where guys have gathered. Here is how popular it is: to watch any cricket match with other teams you pay $60 (to the satellite TV company), for India and Pakistan you pay $200,” he said.
The seven men screaming in the apartment split the cost, but many would have paid the price alone if they had to.
The buildup to the games has beat any Super Bowl hype.
Riots broke out in Pakistan on the day tickets went on sale. In India, Hindus have been lighting pyres and offering prayers to give their team divine power, and in Karachi, where the first game was played, administrators declared a citywide holiday.
“This is a very positive move for our countries. It has worked as diplomacy in the past,” said Younas, whose beloved Pakistanis were far behind.
The Indians had gone to bat first, and as the clock wound past midnight in Colorado, they scored a record 349 runs.
The Pakistanis went to bat at 2:30 a.m. and started wracking up runs. First 100, then 250, then 344.
Spiced chai with lemon was passed around the apartment, but no spectator needed any stimulant beyond the game.
Soon it was the cricket equivalent of the bottom of the ninth, bases loaded. The Pakistani batsman hit a sloppy grounder. He was out.
After eight hours, the game was decided in the last swing with Pakistan losing by five runs.
The Indians leapt, screaming.
Younas shifted on his feet with his hands in his pockets.
“That’s only one game. Tuesday will be completely different,” he said.
The series has more than 20 games left, airing here in the middle of the night, which means South Asians in the United States will advertise their love for the sport with bags under their eyes.
“Man, I’ve got to go to bed,” Younas said.
“That’s right,” Mascarenhas echoed, “Get some sleep. We have cricket practice at 1 o’clock.”