There was turmoil in the Mohan household the other evening. The kind that usually follows when cricket is discussed. Not because the TV set broke down during the Indo-Pak match, but because the Mohan parents discovered their two sons had just returned from playing cricket with the neighborhood bullies.
“Playing cricket with them?” thundered Mrs. Mohan, rolling pin still in hand from her half-made chapatis. “How could you? Don’t you remember they harassed your sister and roughed up your father last year?”
“But Ma,” said the elder son, proudly jingling coins in his pocket, “they paid us good money to play. See, here’s the cash!”
“And Ma,” added the younger one, with the righteousness of a saint defending the Ten Commandments, “we didn’t even shake their hands after the match!”
The transformation on Mrs. Mohan’s face was faster than Pakistan’s collapse in the last five overs. A smile spread across her lips. She counted the money, tucked it carefully into her waist purse, and declared: “Then it’s alright! Let them do what they want—but don’t you ever shake their hands after cricket!”
And so, ladies and gentlemen, that is how India and Pakistan played cricket this week. On the field, rivals for ninety overs. Off the field, business partners counting the revenue from sponsors, broadcasters, and ticket sales.
We, the fans, were Mrs. Mohan—angry about the fights, forgetting the history, but beaming with joy because, after all, the money came home. And yes, we found moral comfort in the one fig leaf left: We didn’t shake hands.
Ah, how noble! We can cheer, share dressing rooms, bat together in IPL franchises, and exchange sly smiles at the toss. But extend a hand? Never! That would be betrayal of the nation, dishonor to the flag, and perhaps, worst of all, a trending hashtag.
Strange, isn’t it? Gandhi shook hands with the British even while demanding they quit India. Mandela shook hands with the very men who jailed him. Reagan and Gorbachev shook hands while their missiles still pointed at each other. But we? We discovered the ultimate diplomatic weapon: folded arms and sweaty palms resolutely kept apart.
Maybe one day our foreign policy will adopt this Mohan Doctrine: Fight, trade, insult, play cricket, but never, ever shake hands! Perhaps the United Nations will adopt it too: world peace through no-handshakes! Imagine wars ending with leaders bowing politely and saying, “Don’t worry, Ma, we didn’t touch their hands.”
Till then, the real winners are not the teams but the ones counting the gate money. The same way Mrs. Mohan tucked those coins into her purse, cricket boards across the border chuckled at their bank accounts swelling, while we fans consoled ourselves: At least they didn’t shake hands.
Maybe next time, we should check the score not on the scoreboard but on the balance sheets…!