A Cricket Team, representing a country, NOT a Religion.
I’m not a cricket fan, ashamedly or not, except for that Lagaan cricket match that had me eating my nails. I’ve always been happy for people into the game, I’m sure its very exciting and a wonderful, unifying experience to watch a game and win/lose, share the sentiment. India, as is Pakistan, and South Africa, and England, and West Indies and on and on, is a country with fervent cricket fever. Everyone joins in, everyone goes crazy, laughs and cries and gets furious together. I miss that feeling here, and I know my cricket-crazy friends manage to recreate it, which is great. I’m usually too oblivious to follow in, and have to depend on everyone else to keep me updated.
For the Twenty20 international match, though, it was in the air. The radio announced the score this morning, and I couldn’t help wondering who’d win the close race. It was extremely well played, very exciting, and India won by only 5 runs, a really close match. Congratulations to India, the Indian Cricket Team, for their very hard-won and well deserved win. Congratulations to Capt. Dhoni for leading a team well, and to the man of the match, Irfan Pathan. Congratulations to Pakistan for playing so well, till the very end. Both teams deserve a pat on the back.
Friends and family in India (and Pakistan) had been praying for days, extra aartis were held, extra namaz was promised in this month of Ramadan. When the win happened, everyone was ecstatic. The Indian Cricket Team had won, India had won, and Indians across the world were overjoyed. Emails were passed around, phone calls were made, people screamed and hugged and yelled and many cried.
Irfan Pathan, the man of the match, was congratulated and feted. No one, no critic could deny the great job he had done. It was a historic day for India, for Dhoni, for Pathan.
Messages of congratulations came from everywhere. Shah Rukh Khan descended on the field, he flew in especially for the match, and enveloped the team in hugs. The Chak De spirit was everywhere. The Pakistan cricket team was, ofcourse, disappointed in their loss, especially since it came after such a close match. It is always painful to lose, and when you were so close to winning, its even more difficult. I can understand that. I can understand the immediate anger and frustration and unhappiness, and as the leader of a team, you feel it even more. You feel the need to defend yourself, or apologize, and its difficult. You’re not sure what words to use, how to phrase it, and make it sound right. So I can imagine, in a way, Shoaib Malik’s situation.
What I cannot understand, at all, is why in the world, even with nervousness and pressure, would the Pakistani cricket team and the Muslim world get mixed up in Malik’s comment to Ravi Shastri:
“First of all I want to say something over here. I want to thank you back home Pakistan and where the Muslim lives all over the world.” (Quote)
I’m disturbed by this irresponsible and senseless statement. Pakistan does not represent the Muslim world. The Muslim world cannot be represented by cricket or a cricket team. The cricket team lost: it was a loss for Pakistan, not for Muslims world wide. It was a win for Muslims in India for one thing, Indian Muslims all over, and for all Muslims who were supporting India anywhere in the world. I’m amazed, and deeply disturbed that the captain of the team would make such a statement. It was wrong, and unprofessional. It was also complete nonsense.
There is a Hindu in the Pakistani team. There are two Muslims on the Indian team. The man of the match, Irfan Khan Pathan, was Muslim. Shah Rukh Khan, a Muslim, was there to celebrate in person on the field. Something’s out of line here, isn’t it?
[Mukul Kesavan wrote a great piece on Malik’s statement, expressing his disappointment and shock:
Even if these facts did not exist, it would still be an outrage. Many have said that we should just forget what he said, he didn’t mean it that way, his English isn’t very good, the sentiment is always there, etc etc. But I’m just at a loss: why is there a need to bring Islam into cricket? Whatever he wanted to say, why bring in Muslims at all? I’m not completely sure that Malik is innocent. Maybe this is indeed a prevailing idea thats always there that he just spoke outloud (its happened before, with cricketer Imran Khan), but here’s the key: in this age, in this time of stressed, tense relations, when the entire world is stepping on each other toes, you CANNOT, CANNOT, be in a position of fame and celebrity and say something like this outloud. Its wrong, irresponsible, and VERY, VERY DANGEROUS.
For people who still say we should let it go, take it as a mistake, its all a match, no big deal……I can’t.
Someone I’m close to is Muslim. Living in India. A prominent family in the town. Minutes after the match, there were demonstrations outside the house. “Muslims Murdabad, Pakistan Murdabad.” It was a dangerous, frightening situation. Shops closed down in the neighborhood, anticipating violence. Its happened before, and I’m not blaming Malik entirely. It happens in a country with tensions high between the religions.
But today, there were a lot more demonstrations and a lot more anger all over the country, all over the world. There were a lot of Indian Muslims today whose loyalty was questioned–whose team do they support? Whose side are they on? When a group of people were hugging and cheering, invariably some side suspicious glances fell on the Muslim in the group, after Malik’s statement. Was he/she really happy India won? There were Muslims today who felt accused and wronged in their own country, who had to bear unjustified looks from other ignorant people (there’s no lack of ignorance in this world), who were verbally and physically attacked in many places, who were saddened and shocked to be questioned and treated in this manner, when they simply wanted to do what everyone else was doing: share sweets, sing songs of victory, give prayers and thanks.
Malik had a difficult job today. He played well and admirably. He had an even more difficult and important job as the captain, the representative at a key match: what he said accepting his loss was crucial. He could have said something that could have built relations between the two countries of India and Pakistan. He could have said something about peace and sportsmanship. There are a lot of positive things he could have said. He could also simply have thanked and apologized to the nation of Pakistan. He chose, however, to make an ignorant, inflammatory comment that made no sense, that endangered and angered Muslims. Ignorance breeds ignorance, and no one seemed to have told him to be careful about saying something this ignorant.
To use Mukul Kesavan’s words: “He said something that goes to the heart of cricket’s loyalties, its culture, its plurality of race and faith and language.”
I’ll repeat it. The cricket team of India won. No religion is represented by sport (and hopefully never will). Muslims did not lose a match. Pakistan lost a match. Malik lost the respect of many.
He needs to apologize, immediately, and be taught to hold his position to build bridges, not to create rifts.
Music: Chak De India, from the soundtrack of the 2007 movie Chak De India.
{Please see the last post for the background on this story}
Each day I seem to become more and more disappointed with the world, more pessimistic, shall I say? And it is always wonderful, a completely warm feeling, when I realize that I’ve been wrong again….atleast today, humanity still exists, and while the evil aspect of human nature cannot be denied, I cannot forget the good side.
Thank to the good people of the world, the child will get more help. The scars might never leave him, but I hope that when he grows up he realizes that while bad was done to him, good still exists, and good reached out to support him. And that, I hope, will help him and console him.
“The Children’s Burn Foundation — a non-profit organization based out of Sherman Oaks, California, that provides support for burn victims locally, nationally and internationally — has agreed to pay for the transportation for Youssif and his family to come to the United States and to set up a fund so you can donate.”
“The story — published and broadcast on Wednesday — has been one of the most-read, non-breaking news stories in CNN.com’s 13-year history.”
{A more uplifting song today: There’s Hope, by India Arie from her latest album, Testimonial.
There is always hope, after all is said and done}
[Beware! This is a long post, but I ask especially all women who pass by to read it!! And please tell me of any of your experiences, here or at lemonsunflower [at] gmail [dot] com]
Pop Quiz! The above sign would be best suited:
a. In front of a men’s restroom/sauna/locker room
b. As a barrier to allow men to move ahead in the temple for darshan (obeiyance)
c. Everywhere! Gender segregation is the key to world peace!
d. None of the above! Segregation is the obstacle to world peace!
{I hope no one actually took c and d seriously}
So I do consider myself a feminist, but I’m not the one who jumps up and picks up a bat at every sexist comment, because I understand that in reality, life is never fair and was never meant to be. And I’m equally likely to make a comment to the opposite gender, so why make a fuss about the petty things? I’m a feminist because I am aware, fully support and recognize the important needs of women, as well as the instances of clear social injustice where you do need to yell and scream and make a point in a patriarchal society. I’m a feminist because the welfare of women is important to me, because I am one, and because I will not accept any obvious, vicious discrimination of any sort.
As a child, I always enjoyed going to temples. I enjoy Hindu festivities, traditions, the various little rites and customs. We’d take off our slippers on the chaukhat (doorway) and walk in on cool ground, and it would be completely quiet within. You’d walk up to the beautiful murtis (idols) and bow, dip your finger in the tika or chandan and carefully anoint the center of your forehead. Then, if you were tall enough, you’d reach up and clang the bell, or your dad would pick you up. The sound would resonate in the silence, a beautiful sound, and you’d feel at peace. Then the best part: you’d walk out and stand in line for prasad (offering), sweet halwa or a laddoo, a piece of fruit…it always tasted best in the temple. During aarti, you’d sing together with people from all walks of life, clap your hands, and marvel at the beautiful clothes and jewellery the Gods and Goddesses were dressed up in. The festival months were even more wonderful, and exciting, and life filled the temples: everyone came, with goodwill, with happiness, with varying levels of devotion. There were lights, and bhajans (devotional songs), and a mass of colors and voices. My family weren’t ardent temple-goers. We’d go to mark birthdays, special events, report cards, a promotion or a success in the family, to pay our due devotion and show our gratitude. God was everywhere, but in the temple the presence was greater, the experience more satisfying. I always looked forward to these visits (and I’ll admit it was often for the prasad), times when my family was together, unified and happy to visit the Lord.
But the point of this post is this: I don’t recall as a child having to stand behind the boys and the men during aartis, or waiting in line behind the men to see the idols or get the prasad. I recall standing with my brother, not waiting behind him. There was never any segregation in the temples I visited, though there were always rituals or customs that discriminated against women. At that point, I never understood them, or I never noticed. When you grow up with it, its a way of life, nothing extraordinary to ponder about. But there was surely nothing that ever left a mark on me, or disturbed me enough to stay with me all these years or blemish my temple visits. I’m grateful for that.
And yet, a visit to a temple here ignited a rush of questions and emotions (mainly anger, and frustration), last weekend. I’ve been there before, and been through the process before, but accepted it every other time as a cultural custom. India is a mixture of cultures, and one cannot presume to understand the traditions of some from the west or the south if I’m from the north or the east. Often, you have to go by the when in Rome saying, and so I did every time. As fas as I was concerned, I was there to bow my head in front of God (and God alone), experience the peace and beauty of the temple and leave.
But this weekend my conscience flared up, and refused to stay down. We sat behind the men during the aarti, a large group of women who had to strain our necks to glimpse the idols. And then when it came time to “circle” and walk up the other murtis, this sign blocked our passage. Finally, they removed the sign. We walked past. I looked straight ahead and reached the end of the passage.
“You will have to stop. First let the swamiji and his disciples go by.”
He would have pushed me back, but he wasn’t allowed to touch any women in/around the temple. From the corner of my eye I saw he was merely a teenager. Dressed in a white kurta-pajama, and he had the big responsibility of holding back the crowd of women who threatened to just flood in and pollute the prayers of the “swamiji and his disciples.” My heart started thumping and immediately, my anger threatened to burst out. My eyes didn’t look in his direction at all, there was no way I was dignifying his rubbish by acknowledging it and looking in his direction. I looked straight ahead at the idol in front of me. He repeated his sentence. I didn’t budge, didn’t move back (but didn’t move forward either). I simply stared ahead. He shut up, finally, and simply stood there on guard. I considered my options.
Then I swiftly turned around and walked out.
Yup, I didn’t do anything. The righteous anger, the will to stand up, the frustration and I didn’t even squeak. I took the cowardly way out with just the one rebellious act of ignoring him a bit, which he probably didn’t even notice. I didn’t say a word out loud to express my indignation.
I wanted to say “Why? Why? Didn’t a woman give birth to your swamiji? To God himself? Doesn’t Sita stand with Rama in the idols? Radha with Krishna? Who gave you right to make us feel like second-class devotees, when the Hindu pray to both Goddesses and Gods? Why must I wait to pray? Why must I stand behind the men?” I wanted to say so much more. I wanted to question and express outloud the terrible injustice that was being done.
I walked out and all I could think of was: even a rapist, a murderer, the most dirtiest and corrupt man in the world, has the right to pray to God before I do! What justice! What a world! What customs, what traditions! This hadn’t been what I grew up, the temples we visited, had it? I had never had to feel this way as a child, among my family, and my parents tried my best to shield me on the outside. But I know this for sure: during Diwali, Dussehra, Holi, I saw all men and women stand together and pray in front God! [Note: this temple is run by Hindus from a different part of India than from where I am from. Customs change widely by area]
I don’t mention religion here. I will not say Hinduism has not discriminated against women. Hinduism and Hindus as a population have committed grave sins against all women, like EVERY other religion does. And yet, in all the years that I have lived, if there is one thing I understand and am completely sure of, is that God does not make religion. Human does. The idea of God is meant to give hope, it is an idea to have faith in when everything seems bleak. Yet the Human adds his own words and language and ideas and beliefs to the simple idea of God, until what the Human has said and done and thinks becomes indistinguishable from “God.” Humans corrupts “God.” And so, I cannot blame the faith. I can only blame those who preach their version of it and claim its truth and goodness and purity…when in reality, their version is no different from our world: corrupt, unfair, cruel, biased and dirty.
I discussed the incident with someone. Ofcourse, it was wrong, the guy’s behavior was wrong, I was told. And yet, I must understand why they do it. The reason men and women are segregated is because the mind of Man is weak, it is easily swayed, essentially filthy. And so, Woman must be away from Man during prayer to avoid temptation. And so, I said indignantly, why don’t women sit in front then, stand in front of men. Its still segregated, right?
Why not?? Because if women stands in front, the men sitting behind will stare at the women rather than pay attention to God, since men are so weak.
Does it outrage you? Regardless of your gender, do you sense the unfairness, the injustice? Even if I accept the argument based on the scientific evidence of pheromones, it is still ridiculous! Why must women suffer, if men are weak? Who decided that? Its the same argument that foolish people throw out justifying rape. “Its how she was acting/what she was wearing.” And hear, the woman’s crime is simply: being a woman.
How ludicrous. Immediately, I was reminded of Azar Nafisi’s Reading Lolita in Tehran, a memoir written by the English professor who taught secret classes for her women students (highly recommended). Ms. Nafisi recalls how after Iran became a republic, all her female students had to wear burkhas. Not a bit of skin should be visible: only the palms if necessary, not even a bit of wrist or the nape of the neck. The women were fined or verbally/physically punished if the law was violated. And the justification provided to Ms Nafisi, can you guess? The sight of the woman’s white skin was a temptation to the men, seducing and distracting them from maintaining their pure lives.
Again, I do not believe this is Islam. I believe this is Islam from the corrupt eyes of those who changed it to meet their needs/forgive their crimes/grant them freedom and loopholes. Just like what happened to me at the temple is not Hinduism. It is Hinduism that has been conveniently manipulated and modulated and reworked to suit the needs of Men.
The thing that hurts me the most is that this happens in the place of God. Where individuals come to find solace, peace, love, warmth, understanding, gain some kind of acceptance. Women have always met with discrimination, in all walks of life, from the beginning of time. But being stopped in the house of God where I come simply as every man does, for the same reasons and in the same way, with the same devotion and the same dedication and love, is just so very degrading and painful. Its painful deep down somewhere, in my heart, in my soul, its frustrating, it causes my blood to boil and my head to spin with anger. If I had been a child, ignorant of the ways of the world, I know how I would feel: shocked, hurt, and at fault, like there was something wrong with me, something that makes me not as worthy as my brother to face God, makes me deficient in some quality in front of God. I know because even though I understand the narrow-mindedness and cruelty and corruption of the world, I still feel a little bit of that, and that makes me grateful to my parents for shielding me as a child, and scares me at the thought of raising a daughter in this world. And that makes me lash again…how dare anyone, ANYONE, make me feel this way?
And all I did was walk away. I let down all my sisters that day at the temple, by not saying a word. I stayed mute, and walked out, and I have no excuse. I apologize. It was too difficult, it was too burdensome and I knew that that day, at that temple, it would make no difference to that boy or any other man.
May God give me strength the next time I see this sign in a temple. Strength to push it over and out of my way, strength to kick any man who dares to stop me in the balls, and strength to march forward to claim my birthright.
[This song isn’t working right…it sounds like chipmunks on this player. But you should be able to download it by rightclicking on the link and that should work fine] {from the movie 1947 Earth by Deepa Mehta}
Ishwar Allah tere jaahaan mein nafrat kyun hain, jang hai kyun
(God, why is there hatred in your world, why is there war?)
Tera dil to itna bada hain, insaan ka dil tang hai kyon?
(Your heart is so large, why is the heart of man so narrow?)
So I am sufficiently satisfied with my PS right now (emphasis on sufficiently, I could never, ever be completely satisfied in a billion years), to take it a little easy on myself (emphasis on little, the 31st is too close). Easy as in I thought I’d hover on to my blog and write something nice and non-MCAT.
And watch the ending of Grey’s, which let me tell you was pretty freaking shocking and unnerving. Left a lot of people unhappy. Not me so much, because I found out I didn’t care about it as much after all, especially in this state of mind, but netizens are going crazy over it. I really got more of it when it was a roomie activity that we could bond over I miss my roomies 😦 I was sad that the wedding didn’t work out, though, because we really thought they Christina and Burke really complemented each other in a nice way (we as in the AGO girls 🙂 I hope you weren’t too disappointed, O!). Seriously, they were good together, but the rumor of Isiah leaving has been going around for a while so I guess this makes it happen. Sandra Oh I really like, she’s a great actress, the scene where she finally breaks down was pretty heart wrenching, even though I wasn’t feeling anything else, she did a good job of showing how broken she was that everything was just gone, just like that, in a couple hours. “I’m free” was a strange thing to say, but I liked the “Damn it.” Do we really all want to be free? I think as strong she was, I think a part of her was happy that she would be ‘tied’ down, so to speak, because she loved Burke. *Sighs* Sad. I also liked George, and I’m sad he failed the intern exam. It also scares me–so you basically have no other option than leaving? Wow. Intense. I missed the last couple eps, so I’m not sure who Lexi is but apparently its all the buzz. I think it’d be weird if they just started from scratch with new interns, I seriously don’t think that would work.
Its good to be home. Its unbelievable to be pampered by your parents and have no chores (since i’m working sooo hard 🙂 ) and its good to be with my soul sister (even though I miss the other ones!). She’s the most inspiring individual in the world and I’m overstuffed with pride when I’m with her. She’s a strong one and she’ll make it through this, and I’m glad I can be a little help. I’m sure she’ll kick ass on this exam. Its good to chit-chat and gossip while we study, its not so bad with her around, otherwise I was simply miserable and not getting anything done.
It is still very overwhelming though–everything that I’ve worked for in my life and everything that is still to come all seems to be lying on a very precarious cliff this month. ALL in this month. That idea is a little (understatement) scary. Anyway, lets quickly move off topic, as fast as possible…..*stops thinking* *brain comments sarcastically: yeah, right!*
So another thanks is in order to everyone who’s been a lifesaver in giving me feedback on my PS copies. I’m so grateful. I wish I could name my first born child after all of you, but then I’d feel sorry for the kid with so many names. So I’ll just say: THANKS! You already know you rock my world. Everyone’s feedback has really, really been very helpful because I’ve got so many different perspectives.
All this deep introspection and literally vomitting my soul out to write this PS has led me to ask the eternal question again and again: Who am I after all? I can’t describe myself to a group of adcoms who’ve never met me in a 5300 character limit. I’m so much, and yet so little. I’m filled with complexities and yet can be so simple. I’m everything I love and everything I hate. How do you really tell someone who you are?
And that thought brings me to one of my favorite songs. Rabbi Shergill’s adaptation of the Sufi Saint Bulla Shah’s Kafi. I find Rabbi Shergill to be one of my generation’s best musical artistes. He is different, yet very earthy, very bold, and his music is exhilarating, pulsating and touching at the same time (I mean his debut album, Rabbi, I also like some of the tracks on his debut music director attempt-Delhi Heights). This song was all the crazy a couple years back, and I think it speaks a lot for the artist if he could bring a song from the 18th century and make it the talk of the town in the 21st century, with everybody looking up the lyrics. {***From the album Rabbi by Rabbi Shergill. Sample it on www.musicindiaonline.com***}
Bulla Ki Jaana Main Koun?
(Bulla! I know not what I am)
Bulla ki Jaana main kaun
Bulla ki Jaana main kaun
Na main moman2 vich maseetan3
Na main vich kufar4 dian reetan5
Na main pakan6 vich paleetan7
(Nor am I the believer in mosque)
(Nor am I in the rituals of the infidel)
(Nor am I the pure in the impure)
Na main andar bed-kitiban8
Na main rehnda bhang-sharaban9
Na main rehnda mast-kharaban
(Nor am I inherent in the Vedas)
(Nor am I present in intoxicants)
(Nor am I lost nor the corrupt)
Na main shadi na gamnaki
Na main vich paleetan pakeen
Na main aabi na main khaki
(Nor am I union nor grief)
(Nor am I intrinsic in the pure/impure)
(Nor am I of the water nor of the land)
Na main aatish na main paun
Bulla ki Jaana main kaun
(Nor am I fire nor air)
(Bulla! I know not what I am)
Na main arabi na lahouri
Na main hindi shahar nagouri
Na hindu na turk pashouri
(Nor am I Arabic nor from Lahore)
(Nor am I the Indian City of Nagaur)
(Nor a Hindu nor a Peshawri turk)
Na main bhet mazhab da paya
Na main aadam-havva jaya
Na koi apna naam dharaya
(Nor did I create the difference of faith)
(Nor did I create Adam-Eve)
(Nor did I name myself)
Avval-akhar aap nu Jaana
Na koi duja hor pachhana
Maithon na koi har syana
(Beginning or end I know just the self)
(Do not acknowledge duality)
(There’s none wiser than I)
The last final….hopefully the last time i will have to read the words “PCR” in atleast the next few months (forlorn hope)…and yet i am not free. one questions, why is it that I do not deserve the luxuries of freedom and “being done” and one hears no answer except the echoes of one’s own voice.
A nice dinner with a friend, a nice gathering with some friends and now a load (LOAD) of packing in front of me, and I’m sleepy, tired, and half-unconscious……”Lord, can you hear me now”?
{Cold Water by Damien Rice happened to be playing in ITunes}
Lets not exaggerate. Lets just say…..”it was the best of times, it was the worst of times.” (as ripped off from the incredible Charles Dickens)
And lets end with some of my favorite lines from the “Ode To A Nightingale” by John Keats, possibly my favorite poet.
“Away! away! for I will fly to thee,
Not charioted by Bacchus and his pards,
But on the viewless wings of Poesy,
Though the dull brain perplexes and retards:
Already with thee! tender is the night,
And haply the Queen-Moon is on her throne,
Clusterer’d around by all her starry Fays;
But here there is no light,
Save what from heaven is with the breezes blown
Through verdurous glooms and winding mossy ways.”
And so it ends…here it ends….and where does one go from here?
Random Song of the Day:
Bhai Re, by Shubha Mudgal, from her first amazing album, “Ab Ke Sawan.” An amazing story about love and maintaining a relationship, about the realistic side of how love unfolds and what it should healthily consist of (in an ideal world). I have loved this song for years, and I feel it is one of the most meaningful songs in the world that I have experienced so far. I hope to translate this one day in English as beautifully as it is written (possibly an impossible task?), because I think it says all their needs to be said.
PS: To a certain friend (or his significant other) who might/might not be reading this (whose email I recieved a little while ago)..I’m very happy for you and for what you’ve found, i.e., T and M, good luck with everything as this journey unfolds. This song is dedicated to you 🙂
Actress Park Jung Ah’s mother has been in a debilitated state for a long time now. Her collapse left her without any awareness of her surroundings and unable to communicate…she also last half of her memory (slight error in translation…not one minute, but one half).
Its true, you always wonder “what if.” What if you had been able to do this, to do that, said this, told them that, one last time. What if you had been there, could you have helped? Changed things? Stopped something from happening? Could you have showed your love, your feelings? Perhaps if you had come a little earlier, left a little later, taken five minutes from your day to make a call, maybe talked to somebody rather than watch your favorite show….would things be different?
It seems that we are always full of regrets. Always full of what ifs, always wondering what could have been. We try to imagine the defiance of fate, try to imagine that we could have changed the outcome, stopped the inevitable from ever happening. What can we do but that? In helplessness, in desperation, with broken hopes and unfulfilled desires, we try to fight with ourselves with a what if….but nothing changes.
My beliefs are contradictory. I believe I can make my own destiny, work towards the future I choose. Yet, I am aware that whatever will be, will be. Whatever happens, happens for a reason. Nothing I do can change what took place, what happened, what I lost or what I gained, what was in my fate. How do I find a compromise? Perhaps….it is in my power to do everything I can right now…but the moment this moment slips away, perhaps I shouldn’t expect it could have gone differently, shouldn’t regret what I didn’t do. I can set everything in place to reach a point, cherish that brief moment when I reach it, and watch it slip away, accepting that nothing could have ever changed how that moment existed.
Maybe thats where the line “never miss a chance to say I love you” comes from…..you can try, atleast, to love and cherish and treasure and appreciate what you have, the moments that exist now and will exist. And it would be foolish to say you’ll never regret what else could have been, that you’ll never want to wonder what if. Yet, maybe, if you did as much as you could, tried as hard as you could, filled up now with as much as you could, perhaps the what ifs will be fewer, and perhaps they’ll hurt less.
Que Sera Sera (Instrumental Piece, from the OST of Que Sera Sera (2007)), Various Artists.
आनेवालापलजानेवालाहै (“The Coming Moment” from Golmaal), Kishore Kumar
Mitasha Muses 
Make Note: INDIA won. The Indian Cricket Team, not a Religion.
Posted in And then I wonder, Cricket, Current, In the News, Waiting on the World to Change, What I'm Reading, tagged Cricket, india won, india-pakistan match, shoaib malik's comment, twenty20 match on September 24, 2007| 4 Comments »
A Cricket Team, representing a country, NOT a Religion.
I’m not a cricket fan, ashamedly or not, except for that Lagaan cricket match that had me eating my nails. I’ve always been happy for people into the game, I’m sure its very exciting and a wonderful, unifying experience to watch a game and win/lose, share the sentiment. India, as is Pakistan, and South Africa, and England, and West Indies and on and on, is a country with fervent cricket fever. Everyone joins in, everyone goes crazy, laughs and cries and gets furious together. I miss that feeling here, and I know my cricket-crazy friends manage to recreate it, which is great. I’m usually too oblivious to follow in, and have to depend on everyone else to keep me updated.
For the Twenty20 international match, though, it was in the air. The radio announced the score this morning, and I couldn’t help wondering who’d win the close race. It was extremely well played, very exciting, and India won by only 5 runs, a really close match. Congratulations to India, the Indian Cricket Team, for their very hard-won and well deserved win. Congratulations to Capt. Dhoni for leading a team well, and to the man of the match, Irfan Pathan. Congratulations to Pakistan for playing so well, till the very end. Both teams deserve a pat on the back.
Friends and family in India (and Pakistan) had been praying for days, extra aartis were held, extra namaz was promised in this month of Ramadan. When the win happened, everyone was ecstatic. The Indian Cricket Team had won, India had won, and Indians across the world were overjoyed. Emails were passed around, phone calls were made, people screamed and hugged and yelled and many cried.
http://cricket.indiatimes.com/India_win_see-saw_battle_in_last_over/twenty20articleshow/2399809.cms
Irfan Pathan, the man of the match, was congratulated and feted. No one, no critic could deny the great job he had done. It was a historic day for India, for Dhoni, for Pathan.
http://www.express.co.uk/posts/view/20081/Pathan-leads-India-to-the-promised-land
Messages of congratulations came from everywhere. Shah Rukh Khan descended on the field, he flew in especially for the match, and enveloped the team in hugs. The Chak De spirit was everywhere. The Pakistan cricket team was, ofcourse, disappointed in their loss, especially since it came after such a close match. It is always painful to lose, and when you were so close to winning, its even more difficult. I can understand that. I can understand the immediate anger and frustration and unhappiness, and as the leader of a team, you feel it even more. You feel the need to defend yourself, or apologize, and its difficult. You’re not sure what words to use, how to phrase it, and make it sound right. So I can imagine, in a way, Shoaib Malik’s situation.
What I cannot understand, at all, is why in the world, even with nervousness and pressure, would the Pakistani cricket team and the Muslim world get mixed up in Malik’s comment to Ravi Shastri:
“First of all I want to say something over here. I want to thank you back home Pakistan and where the Muslim lives all over the world.” (Quote)
I’m disturbed by this irresponsible and senseless statement. Pakistan does not represent the Muslim world. The Muslim world cannot be represented by cricket or a cricket team. The cricket team lost: it was a loss for Pakistan, not for Muslims world wide. It was a win for Muslims in India for one thing, Indian Muslims all over, and for all Muslims who were supporting India anywhere in the world. I’m amazed, and deeply disturbed that the captain of the team would make such a statement. It was wrong, and unprofessional. It was also complete nonsense.
There is a Hindu in the Pakistani team. There are two Muslims on the Indian team. The man of the match, Irfan Khan Pathan, was Muslim. Shah Rukh Khan, a Muslim, was there to celebrate in person on the field. Something’s out of line here, isn’t it?
[Mukul Kesavan wrote a great piece on Malik’s statement, expressing his disappointment and shock:
http://blogs.cricinfo.com/meninwhite/archives/2007/09/scenes_from_a_final.php]
Even if these facts did not exist, it would still be an outrage. Many have said that we should just forget what he said, he didn’t mean it that way, his English isn’t very good, the sentiment is always there, etc etc. But I’m just at a loss: why is there a need to bring Islam into cricket? Whatever he wanted to say, why bring in Muslims at all? I’m not completely sure that Malik is innocent. Maybe this is indeed a prevailing idea thats always there that he just spoke outloud (its happened before, with cricketer Imran Khan), but here’s the key: in this age, in this time of stressed, tense relations, when the entire world is stepping on each other toes, you CANNOT, CANNOT, be in a position of fame and celebrity and say something like this outloud. Its wrong, irresponsible, and VERY, VERY DANGEROUS.
http://www.shaarique.com/india-wins-twenty-20-world-cup-in-pictures/
For people who still say we should let it go, take it as a mistake, its all a match, no big deal……I can’t.
Someone I’m close to is Muslim. Living in India. A prominent family in the town. Minutes after the match, there were demonstrations outside the house. “Muslims Murdabad, Pakistan Murdabad.” It was a dangerous, frightening situation. Shops closed down in the neighborhood, anticipating violence. Its happened before, and I’m not blaming Malik entirely. It happens in a country with tensions high between the religions.
But today, there were a lot more demonstrations and a lot more anger all over the country, all over the world. There were a lot of Indian Muslims today whose loyalty was questioned–whose team do they support? Whose side are they on? When a group of people were hugging and cheering, invariably some side suspicious glances fell on the Muslim in the group, after Malik’s statement. Was he/she really happy India won? There were Muslims today who felt accused and wronged in their own country, who had to bear unjustified looks from other ignorant people (there’s no lack of ignorance in this world), who were verbally and physically attacked in many places, who were saddened and shocked to be questioned and treated in this manner, when they simply wanted to do what everyone else was doing: share sweets, sing songs of victory, give prayers and thanks.
Malik had a difficult job today. He played well and admirably. He had an even more difficult and important job as the captain, the representative at a key match: what he said accepting his loss was crucial. He could have said something that could have built relations between the two countries of India and Pakistan. He could have said something about peace and sportsmanship. There are a lot of positive things he could have said. He could also simply have thanked and apologized to the nation of Pakistan. He chose, however, to make an ignorant, inflammatory comment that made no sense, that endangered and angered Muslims. Ignorance breeds ignorance, and no one seemed to have told him to be careful about saying something this ignorant.
To use Mukul Kesavan’s words: “He said something that goes to the heart of cricket’s loyalties, its culture, its plurality of race and faith and language.”
I’ll repeat it. The cricket team of India won. No religion is represented by sport (and hopefully never will). Muslims did not lose a match. Pakistan lost a match. Malik lost the respect of many.
He needs to apologize, immediately, and be taught to hold his position to build bridges, not to create rifts.
Music: Chak De India, from the soundtrack of the 2007 movie Chak De India.
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