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All sober men and women of India, save some
foresighted folks who stocked the barrel before the Gandhi Jyanti, waited
anxiously for the last match between India and South Africa. The advantage of being sober is that you can
lay all your facts into a straight line, and order them correctly. The
excitement in anticipation of the match was, therefore, palpable.
Politician, in between, paid homage to the country’s
sole international hero, by dropping some choicest flowers at Gandhi’s Samadhi
in the morning secretly praying to get rid of this mandatory yearly chore,
while disguising it as prayer for the mankind, and also ensuring that the TV
cameras, and photographers capture their candid pictures in a form which
meticulously conceal their state of mind.
When the clock struck nineteen, everyone glued in
front of the television sets. The match
between Australia and Pakistan had just ended. Pakistan, to their own surprise,
had defeated Australia which while losing ensured their tickets to the
semi-finals, was now sitting pretty and yet a little concerned in the dressing
room for the outcome of this match. Pretty because they had just defeated the
mighty Australians without the sound of match- fixing hovering in the air, and concerned
because they knew that only Indians could outclass them in unpredictability.
South Africa, on the other hand, was out of the
tournament but gleaming in confidence of different kind. The colour of this
confidence bore resemblance to the poem that I had read long ago – one who is
down needs fear no fall. This glowed confidence quickly got transmitted into
the tossing coin. South Africans won the toss convincingly, which remained
their only convincing win in the tournament.
Indian players, on the other side, appeared nervous and clueless trying to
cope up with the hapless situation where they had to play the game while doing
the math, both at the same time. Not a happy state considering when half of
them flunked their math test by a greater margin than their latest defeat to
Australia, while the other half fainted twice before facing the first question.
Oblivion fans who despite being sober, were in full frenzy. People were leaping
up and down in their places in an effort to drown the disquiet that was
creeping inside.
The match started in full gusto.Two players promptly walked into the park
looking up in the heaven as if asking the almighty to convey about their secret
plan. Celebrations of the fans ceased soon after the match started for it was
now clear from the outset that the players’ secret plan was to internalise Gandhi’s
lesson of non-violence on to the field as they refused hitting the ball despite
the opponent kept hurling it down their throats. Rohit Sharma, for instance, entered the ground
with a Gandhi-like composure. His demeanour, however alien to the fray, was no
less than a saint who had taken the opponents blows peacefully without hitting
back, and had only gaped his mouth in appreciation of the challenges presented
before him. When he left, he had already attained the sainthood by
demonstrating the world of his interpretation of Gandhinian prophecy. His
existence on the ground marked the stamp of the camp India, declaring to the
world that how peace loving folks we are, and that we never hit any hostile even
if it’s just an inanimate object such as a cricket ball.
But South Africans, too, had this deep rooted
relation with Gandhi. At first, they might have thrown him from the first class
compartment but later embraced him the way they embraced Mandela. Their claim
of Mohan Das becoming a Gandhi is not a secret, similar to the tale of
Siddhartha becoming a Buddha in our own land. That’s history, of course, but
history has this uncanny knack of repeating itself.
Playing true to the history, South African first
forcefully rejected the Gandhian approach. Du Plessis, especially, was adamant
to abide the lessons which Indians so kindly presented, perhaps also because
formerly he was not the part of his own team, and therefore was unfamiliar to its generous
policies.
After the downfall of Du Plessis, who before exiting
ensured that the Indian pain became agony, South African soon realised their
mistake of not abiding by the non-violence approach quickly rectified them one
by one. However late, they ensured that they lose and which they did by one
run, and kept the Indian tradition of Bazigaari (one who wins even after
losing) intact.
Thus the match despite its significance was lost by
both sides. Both teams tried hard to abide by the Gandhian principle but sadly lost.
Perhaps, the Gandhi’s message was somewhere lost in translation. And while
people feverishly debate over the relevance of Gandhi in today’s society, I sit
back and wonder if indeed this was how Gandhi would have played his Cricket.
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