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This is an archive article published on March 25, 2004

Irfantastic Dad’s message to Miandad: Gali ke ladke ne hi wicket lekar dikhaya

In the end, father Mehmood Pathan, the one of steely composure, could not hide it. Just when commentator Dean Jones called Irfan Pathan for ...

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In the end, father Mehmood Pathan, the one of steely composure, could not hide it. Just when commentator Dean Jones called Irfan Pathan for the post-match soundbite after the historic win at Gaddafi Stadium in Lahore this evening, he embraced the television screen. And kissed it.

‘‘I had waited for this historic day,’’ said Mehmood Pathan. ‘‘After this, nobody will be able to say that Irfans are found in every gali in Pakistan…Gali ke ladke ne hi wicket lekar dikhaya.’’

It was Irfan’s three wickets that set the stage for India’s victory and his family members didn’t move an inch until the last ball was bowled.

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The night before, Irfan had called up his father and asked him to offer prayers. ‘‘I told him he himself should offer prayers before taking the field. God was always with him, and in the end, the prayers worked,’’ said his father. ‘‘Of course, I offered special prayers for our team and my son.’’

Irfan’s mother Shamimabanu said she had always been sure her son would make it. ‘‘I’d already purchased sweets for I knew Guddu would do well and our team would win,’’ she said.

But the telling comment came from his sister Shagufta, who was waving a tricolour after India’s victory. ‘‘It was important he proved himself in Lahore,’’ she said. ‘‘After all, this is the place from which some other players had doubted his capabilities. I’m proud my brother’s contribution helped India win.’’

The family members had all huddled together before the television set in their front room to watch the entire game. However, Irfan’s brother Yusuf preferred to watch the match with friends at the Juma Masjid complex.

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As soon as victory came and L. Balaji uprooted Moin Khan’s stumps, fans went berserk outside Irfan’s house in the Mandvi area. A victory rally choked the streets in the entire walled city.

Policemen were overrun by revellers, and senior police officers laid a cordon around Juma Masjid, near which Irfan lives.

Holding placards, blowing trumpets, and bursting crackers, Vadodara was surely going crazy. ‘‘We love Irfan. We are proud of him,’’ shouted one enthusiast trying to enter Irfan’s house, but was kept off by the police.

For once, this city where the Hindu-Muslim divide seems to have become a permanent fixture—there were skirmishes, stone-throwing barely weeks ago— Hindu and Muslim neighbours celebrated together. They shared sweets, held hands, burst crackers together. And the police were busy with traffic control.

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