An Open Letter to My Indian Friends: Why Your Cricket Team's Gesture May Be Our Path Forward

As a Pakistani cricket fan writing from across the border, I find myself in an unusual position today – praising the Indian cricket team's decision to refuse handshakes with our players during the Asia Cup match on September 14th. Captain Suryakumar Yadav and his team's gesture, which has sparked outrage in Pakistan and celebration in India, may actually represent the most honest and practical approach to our toxic relationship.

Captain Surya Kumar Yadav and his boys make statement on and off the field. Image Courtesy: Getty Images

The Courage to Be Honest

When Suryakumar Yadav and his teammates walked straight to their dressing room after securing a commanding seven-wicket victory, refusing the customary handshakes with our Pakistani players, they did something remarkable – they chose honesty over hypocrisy. For decades, we have engaged in this elaborate charade of sportsmanship on the cricket field while our nations remain locked in perpetual hostility off it.

The Indian captain's post-match statement was clear and unambiguous: "I feel few things in life are ahead of sportsman's spirit also. We stand by the victims of the families of Pahalgam terror attack and express our solidarity". This wasn't a spontaneous decision – it was a deliberate choice made in consultation with the BCCI and the Indian government, reflecting the genuine sentiment of a nation still mourning the loss of 26 innocent tourists in Kashmir.

The Futility of False Gestures

What is the point of shaking hands when the warmth is manufactured and the smiles are forced? The traditional post-match handshakes and pre-toss pleasantries have become meaningless rituals performed for television cameras while both nations spend billions on weapons pointed at each other. The Indian team's refusal to participate in this hollow theater was, paradoxically, more respectful than going through the motions would have been.

Consider the context: just months after the Pahalgam attack claimed 26 lives, after India's Operation Sindoor targeted terror infrastructure across our border, after a four-day military conflict that brought our nuclear-armed nations to the brink of war, we were expected to smile, shake hands, and pretend everything was normal? The Indian team chose truth over pretense, and I respect them for it.

The Political Exploitation of Our Rivalry

Our cricket rivalry has become the ultimate political prop, exploited by leaders on both sides to score cheap points and distract from real governance failures. Every India-Pakistan match is weaponized – victories are claimed as national triumphs, defeats become national tragedies, and players are turned into unwilling ambassadors for causes they never signed up to champion.

The calls for boycotts in India, the protests, the burning of effigies, the death threats to players – none of this is about cricket anymore. It's about politicians milking our hatred for votes, media houses chasing ratings through manufactured outrage, and cricket boards counting profits from our pain. The empty seats at the Dubai International Stadium during what should have been a sold-out contest spoke volumes about how even fans are exhausted by this toxic cycle.

Why Ignoring Each Other Makes Sense

Perhaps it's time we acknowledged an uncomfortable truth: we might be better off ignoring each other entirely. Not just in cricket, but across all platforms – social media, entertainment, cultural exchanges – until our political establishments can no longer profit from our mutual hostility.

When there are no handshakes to analyze, no friendly gestures to misinterpret, no viral moments of camaraderie to exploit, politicians lose one of their most effective tools for manipulation. When we stop engaging, when we stop reacting to each other's provocations, when we refuse to provide content for the outrage machinery, maybe – just maybe – our leaders will be forced to focus on actual governance instead of manufacturing crises.

The Historical Precedent of Cricket Diplomacy's Failure

The history of cricket diplomacy between our nations is littered with false dawns and broken promises. From Zia-ul-Haq's visit to watch cricket in 1987, to Vajpayee's bus diplomacy in 1999, to Musharraf and Singh's meeting in 2005, to Gilani's visit for the 2011 World Cup semi-final – each time, cricket was supposed to be the bridge that would heal our wounds.

But what happened after each of these diplomatic cricket moments? The Kargil war followed Vajpayee's Lahore visit. The Parliament attack derailed peace talks. The Mumbai attacks ended cricket ties for years. Cricket didn't prevent any of these tragedies; it merely provided a stage for politicians to perform peace while preparing for war.

Breaking the Cycle

The Indian team's decision represents a mature acknowledgment that sports cannot be separated from politics when the stakes are this high. By refusing to play pretend, they've exposed the absurdity of expecting cricketers to smile and shake hands while their nations exchange missile strikes.

This approach – cold, distant, but honest – might be the shock therapy our relationship needs. When we stop providing each other with content for political theater, when we refuse to be pawns in games played by our political elites, we force a reckoning. Either our leaders learn to solve problems without exploiting our rivalry, or they continue governing nations that have chosen to ignore each other completely.

A Challenge to Both Sides

To my fellow Pakistanis: instead of feeling insulted by India's snub, perhaps we should admire their clarity. They've told us exactly where we stand, without sugar-coating or false diplomacy. Isn't this honesty preferable to the fake smiles that preceded diplomatic disasters?

To our Indian friends: your team's gesture was bold, but it should be the beginning, not the end. If you truly want to break this cycle, the logical next step is complete disengagement – not just in cricket, but across all platforms where our rivalry is exploited for political gain.

The Path Forward

Imagine a world where India and Pakistan simply ignore each other completely. No cricket matches to generate outrage. No social media battles to fuel nationalism. No cultural exchanges to be weaponized by extremists. No diplomatic summits that end in disappointment. Just two nations focused entirely on their own development, their own people, their own problems.

In this scenario, politicians who have built careers on anti-neighbor rhetoric would suddenly have to explain their governance failures without the convenient distraction of cross-border tensions. Media houses would have to find new content beyond manufactured crises. Cricket boards would have to generate revenue without exploiting our manufactured hatred.

Only when the political profit motive is removed – when there are no more handshakes to politicize, no more matches to weaponize, no more interactions to exploit – might we finally see leaders who are forced to govern rather than deflect.

Conclusion

So thank you, Team India, for your honesty. Thank you for refusing to participate in the charade. Thank you for showing us that sometimes the most respectful thing you can do is to simply walk away.

Your gesture wasn't unsportsmanlike – it was the most sporting thing you could have done. You refused to trivialize the grief of the Pahalgam victims by engaging in empty rituals. You chose authenticity over performance, truth over diplomacy.

Now let's see if we have the collective wisdom to follow your lead – not just in cricket, but in all aspects of our relationship. Complete disengagement might be the only way to force our political classes to focus on actual governance instead of the profitable business of manufacturing hatred.

Until that day comes, we'll be watching from a distance, no longer participating in the theater that has cost both our nations so dearly.

Written by a Pakistani cricket fan who believes that sometimes the greatest respect you can show someone is to stop pretending everything is fine when it clearly isn't.