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This is an archive article published on July 16, 1999

The borderline of patriotism

The day after Australia won the World Cup, I overheard a conversation between two young men in a lift. Australia played on our behalf, sa...

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The day after Australia won the World Cup, I overheard a conversation between two young men in a lift. Australia played on our behalf, said the short fat one. And now that the Pakistanis have been beaten in cricket, the tall thin one responded, it’s only a short step to beating them in Kargil. Former cricket captain Kapil Dev’s call for a moratorium on cricket with Pakistan has only reinforced this equation of cricket with war.

Kapil explained his stand in a recent interview by recounting a meeting with a wounded soldier on the Kargil front. Whatever else happens, said the jawan, India should not lose to Pakistan in cricket. How ironic that this man who may have been about to lose his life was worried about a cricketing loss. But the tragedy is not just that in India human life is valued so cheaply, but that cricket is valued so much. How can one play good cricket if losing is equated with national death?

But the art of cricketing is not the only loser. Many of us have friends and relatives across the border, we speak the same language, read the same poets, and listen to the same music. If Kargil means that we can no longer play cricket with Pakistan, presumably we should no longer do any of these other things. My best friend from college recently had twin daughters. But presumably because he is Pakistani and lives in Karachi, I should stop feeling so happy.

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The banning of PTV or Dawn on the Internet may have been temporarily successful. If winners of the Nobel or Booker, both foreign awards, can be greeted with such delirium, targeting Dilip Kumar for being awarded the Nishan-e-Pakistan doesn’t seem patriotic but downright communal.

Perhaps we would have gained something lasting from this war if the outpouring of patriotic emotion was to extend to other causes as well. Yet, something tells me that this is a patriotism confined to a World Cup series or a war. If we can empty our pockets for the jawans, why don’t we empty them for the millions who have been displaced by large dams and industries, for those who have died accidental deaths while working in mines or building large factories which provide essential goods for the country?

For they too have died or lost much in the service of the nation. At the very least, we could do more for the refugees who have had to leave their homes on both sides of the border. Surely our vision of a winning nation is not confined to one which succeeds only on the battleground or on the cricket field. When I dream of a future India, it is not one where children are brought up to be Pakistan-haters, or where they cannot take a defeat at cricket.

For then, we shall have lost rather than won in a far greater war. We should count victory when both the Indian and the Pakistani people have a government that is responsible to them, when they have defeated the elites who push them into senseless wars. When they are educated and healthy, because the money that was formerly being devoted to war is now being devoted to them. When faced with the sight of endless slums, or beggar children, it is little comfort to be told that the Indian economy can afford a war better than the Pakistani economy.

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This time, Pakistani soldiers have intruded. But it is important to remember that unless the Kashmir problem is resolved, with the consent of the Kashmiris, this is just one among past and future wars. Who are we fighting for when we fight over territory without regard to the people who live there? Let us not create of the nation something more than the happiness of the people who live in it, or sow the seeds of future hatred to lubricate future wars.

Mothers did not give birth with such pain to see their sons mowed down as cannon fodder. So long as the press and the TV have their spotlights on them, their families are bound to submerge their sorrows in pride. Yet surely, after the war has passed, the abstract nation is no comfort for the absence of a pair of loving arms, help with mathematics homework, and yes, a father to play cricket with.

The writer is a Reader in Sociology at the Institute of Economic Growth, Delhi

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