Cricket Under Siege: When India vs Pakistan Truly Became War Minus The Shooting

Cricket has always had nationalism on display. Only now, it has been completely hijacked by jingoism.

2025 Asia Cup: How India vs Pakistan became war minus the shooting

(Photo: X)

Generation Z has not seen the Kargil War.

Not a four-day offensive-counteroffensive skirmish, but a full-scale conflict that raged for over two months and claimed at least a thousand lives.

Only those who have witnessed both Operation Vijay and Operation Sindoor eras can truly understand the stark contrast. So much so that even the reportage was contrasting. Channels did not run high on chest-thumping theatrics with no substance, where a Philadelphia plane crash was passed off as the destruction of Karachi port, or sirens were blared to announce an Indian ground invasion that never took place. Instead, there were sober dispatches from ground zero.

What has remained unchanged is the fervent fanaticism surrounding cricket. Put two nations at war on a sporting field, and the game inevitably transpires into a battle.

Barring religion, the masses have not had a more intoxicating opium than sports. What has often masqueraded as ‘sporting diplomacy’ is merely a façade, concealing hostility and hatred. In the wake of Soviet football team FC Dynamo Moscow’s tour to the Great Britain, George Orwell likened sports to a war, minus the shooting.

Serious sport has nothing to do with fair play. It is bound up with hatred, jealousy, boastfulness, disregard for all rules and sadistic pleasure in witnessing violence: in other words it is war minus the shooting.

George Orwell

From 1999 to 2025, And All The Cricket In Between

With an actual war as the backdrop, the clash between India and Pakistan at the 1999 ICC Cricket World Cup felt exactly that — a war minus the shooting. The contest saw a pitch invasion, multiple skirmishes, three arrests, nine ejections, and one Indian flag set ablaze. Manchester was not Kashmir, but who in the crowd would accept that they were not part of the order of battle?

But don’t blame the fans, for they are innocent victims of what sociologists call ‘compensatory nationalism.’

In South Asia, nationalism is inseparable from hyper-masculine ideals — pride over prosperity, the spectacle of strength, and an unquenchable thirst for triumph. When tangible progress — human development, financial growth, prosperity — remains elusive, symbolic victories attain supreme importance. And sport offers precisely that stage.

And so, the 1999 meeting at Manchester, whilst soldiers from both sides were laying their lives, was more than just another game of cricket. It was an opportunity to assert supremacy and showcase patriotism. With muscle and with might. Both sets of fans did that, and the scenes were not very pleasant.

Yet, 26 years later, what do we remember from that match?

We remember Venkatesh Prasad’s brilliant spell, which earned him a fifer. We remember the unflinching 61 of Rahul Dravid, and the 59 of Mohammad Azharuddin. We remember how India won the match by 47 runs.

And today, cricket will provide the platform for a surrogate war yet again. Except on this occasion, regardless of who emerges victorious, we might not remember the 2025 Asia Cup for instances of cricketing brilliances.

The sixes, fours and wickets have all been eclipsed by statements, narratives and gestures (or, the lack of it). Perhaps Abhishek Sharma’s stroke-play or Kuldeep Yadav’s spin will briefly catch the eye, but far more enduring will be the memory of how, in September 2025, four months after a ceasefire, sport quenched the appetite of a war-hungry mass.

We will remember India’s handshake snub, and we will remember how Pakistan’s cricketers had to resort to foolhardy gestures to hide their sporting inadequacies. We will also remember how a match went from being unanimously boycotted to having nationwide screenings, all in the span of three weeks. Cricket, like every other sport, has always had a symbiotic relationship with hyper-nationalism. Only this time, we will remember how jingoism utterly hijacked the game.

The Display Of Nationalism In India-Pakistan Matches

Nationalism has always shadowed India–Pakistan contests, and understandably so, considering how frequently the nations have engaged in conflicts.

The thought of a Pakistani team touring India may sound implausible today, yet in the very year of the Kargil War, a side led by Wasim Akram did just that. And this, in a Bharatiya Janata Party–ruled India, mind you. A spectacle of such magnitude inevitably drew political capital, and the non-cricketing actors were quick to seize their cues.

A bewildered Shiv Sena squadron dug up the pitch in Delhi, where the first Test was supposed to be held. In Mumbai, BCCI’s office was vandalised, and protests simmered only after Prime Minister Atal Bihari Vajpayee requested Bal Thackeray. The latter, however, demanded that the nation’s Muslims must prove their loyalty by staunchly supporting the Indian team.

The religious connection is stronger than ever before, on both sides of the border. Only four years ago, when Pakistan defeated India at the T20 World Cup, Interior Minister Sheikh Rasheed Ahmad commented: "Muslims all over the world are rejoicing. This is a victory of Islam."

The Game Has Seen It All. Only This Time, It's Different.

With the various tools of incitement, it should not have surprised anyone when the person delivering Sunil Gavaskar his newspaper at a Sharjah hotel told him that the Indian diaspora would not care if his team lose every single match, but they must not lose against Pakistan.

What has this contest not seen?

It has seen Pakistani fans pelting stones at the Indian team in Karachi, back in 1997. Sachin Tendulkar, usually the embodiment of poise and calm, had no other option but to stage a walkout.

Only two weeks prior, the contest saw Shiv Kumar Thind — an Indian fan in Toronto — repeatedly mocking Pakistan’s Inzamam-ul-Haq by calling him aloo, before nearly getting his skull smashed by the cricketer.

It has seen effigies of legends like Wasim Akram and Sourav Ganguly being set ablaze.

Those who peddle the comforting illusion that these matches can serve as catalysts for peace are living in a paradise even fools would envy.

Yet, for all the enmity this fixture has entailed, it also has, historically, left room for amity. The nation could not have any more desperate for a victory in the first Test of that 1999 tour. Not only because of political circumstance, but also owing to India’s prolonged wait of a Test win against their neighbours, which was nearing two decades. Yet, the crowd in Chennai could not help but give the Pakistani players a standing ovation when they won a cliffhanger. We will remember that match for Saqlain Mushtaq.

The Pakistanis were not too keen on hosting the Indians in 2004, but diplomatic efforts saw fans being issued special ‘cricket visas.’ It would later turn out that the touring Indian loyalists were treated to free meals and rides to the stadium. Knowing about the hospitality on display, even some Pakistanis tried to identify as Indians. We will remember this series for Virender Sehwag.

This fixture has produced many memorable moments, and not necessarily relating specifically to cricket.

Only this time, we might remember the 2025 Asia Cup only for the performative jingoism. A September where players desperately made statements — some with words, others with gestures. A September where sports correspondents embraced their war-reportage cosplay. A September where nothing truly shifted in the political stalemate, except that everything changed on the field.