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The recent refusal by the Indian cricket team to shake hands with their Pakistani counterparts during the ongoing series in Dubai has sent ripples far beyond the boundary ropes. For some, it may appear a small gesture—or the absence of one—but in a region where symbolism carries deep weight, such an omission speaks volumes. It marks not just a break from sporting etiquette but a worrying shift in how political tensions are beginning to infiltrate the few remaining spaces that have long fostered goodwill between India and Pakistan.

Through the decades, the players themselves have often defied the narrative of hostility that exists between the two countries at the political level. Fierce competitors during the match, Indian and Pakistani cricketers have consistently demonstrated warmth, mutual respect and friendship off the field.  

Over decades, legends from both sides—Sunil Gavaskar and Javed Miandad, Sachin Tendulkar and Wasim Akram, Virat Kohli and Babar Azam—have publicly shown admiration and solidarity, often embracing each other warmly regardless of who won or lost.

This camaraderie has served as a powerful reminder that while politics may divide, sport—and especially cricket—can unite.

Remembering Colombo: A Lesson in Solidarity

Cricket has always been more than a game in South Asia. Nowhere is this truer than in the subcontinent, where a shared colonial past, overlapping cultures, and intense national pride collide on the field. The India-Pakistan cricket rivalry is among the most storied and emotionally charged in the world. Yet amidst the tensions, cricket has at times served as a rare conduit of connection—a medium through which the people of these two estranged nations could look beyond the headlines and remember what they share.

One of the most poignant examples of this came in 1996 during the Cricket World Cup.  

In the lead-up to the 1996 World Cup, Sri Lanka was struggling to convince the world that it was a safe venue for international matches. The country was in the grip of a brutal civil war with the Liberation Tigers of Tamil Eelam (LTTE), and major cricketing nations like Australia and the West Indies refused to travel to Colombo, citing security risks.

At that critical moment, India and Pakistan rose to the occasion and stood by their South Asian neighbour. In a display of extraordinary regional solidarity, the two arch-rivals agreed to play an exhibition match in Colombo, affirming their trust in Sri Lanka and offering a lifeline to its tournament ambitions.

That match, held at the R. Premadasa Stadium, was about far more than cricket. It symbolised a spirit of cooperation and leadership that transcended bilateral hostilities. For once, sport triumphed over politics.

And yet, the recent scene in Dubai stands in stark contrast to that memory.

The refusal to shake hands was not just disappointing—it was regressive. It betrayed the very values that South Asian cricket had once so proudly upheld. Given the camaraderie often seen among players from both sides off the field, it’s difficult to believe that this decision originated from the players themselves. More likely, it was a directive passed down by political or administrative powers—yet another imposition of the state on a space meant for sporting excellence.

It is a deeply troubling sign of how the subcontinent’s deepening political divides are poisoning even those few arenas where collaboration once seemed possible.

Cricket as a Conduit for Peace

But it need not be this way. The history of international relations offers multiple examples of “sports diplomacy” as a tool for thawing frozen ties. From the U.S.-China “ping-pong diplomacy” of the 1970s to the joint Korean women’s hockey team at the 2018 Winter Olympics, sport has repeatedly proven capable of unlocking doors that politics has kept shut.

Cricket could be South Asia’s most potent soft-power weapon—if only the region’s leadership recognised its value. Regular bilateral series, regional tournaments, and exchange programmes could become bridges, not battlegrounds. Shared victories and even shared losses can humanise the “other,” allowing people on both sides of the border to reconnect through a common passion.

SAARC: A Sleeping Giant

The incident also highlights the broader malaise of South Asian regionalism. The South Asian Association for Regional Cooperation (SAARC) lies in a state of near paralysis, largely held hostage by India-Pakistan tensions. It is a tragic irony that in a region of nearly two billion people—many of whom face the same economic, environmental, and health challenges—so little meaningful collaboration exists.

Imagine a thriving South Asian Sports League, rotating among member nations. The region could be a beacon of shared prosperity, creativity, and resilience. But for that to happen, political will must align with public sentiment—a sentiment that overwhelmingly favors peace and dialogue.

The 1996 match in Colombo was a rare moment when SAARC’s ideals were realised—not by politicians, but by cricketers. Today, one needs that spirit more than ever.

Civil Society Must Step Up

If political leadership continues to fall short, then the responsibility must shift. Intellectuals, civil society leaders, artists, and athletes—those whose influence transcends national boundaries—must speak up. They must push back against nationalist rhetoric that seeks to divide rather than unite.

Cricketing legends, in particular, wield enormous moral capital. Whether it’s a public statement, a symbolic gesture, or a simple act of solidarity, their voices can shift the conversation from hostility to hope.

Cricket in Conflict: The LTTE and 1996

Even in the heart of Sri Lanka’s civil war, the power of cricket was undeniable. When Sri Lanka’s national team performed brilliantly in the 1996 World Cup, reports suggested that there were unofficial ceasefires in LTTE-controlled areas during key matches. The temporary lull in violence allowed ordinary citizens—even in war zones—to gather around radios and televisions, swept up by the team’s success. That moment revealed cricket’s unique ability to transcend divisions that politics had failed to bridge.

More recently President Anura Kumara Dissanayake invoked this very spirit when he laid the foundation stone for an international cricket stadium in Jaffna. In his remarks, he emphasised cricket’s uniting power—its ability to bring together communities long separated by conflict.

Sri Lanka’s Lessons Learnt and Reconciliation Commission (LLRC) echoed this sentiment. In its report the LLRC specifically recommended using sports to promote interaction between different ethnic groups. It called for student exchanges, joint sporting events, and the formation of reconciliation clubs in schools.

These are not lofty dreams—they are actionable, grassroots steps. They reflect a growing consensus: if we want peace, we must start young, and we must start together.

Let Us Remember Colombo

The missed handshake in Dubai was more than just a breach of etiquette. It also contrasted sharply with the moment of unity witnessed in Colombo in 1996, when two rivals set aside their differences to support a neighbour in need.

That moment was not about runs scored or wickets taken. It was about something far more enduring—solidarity, leadership, and hope.

The question now is: can we reclaim that spirit?

The answer depends on how we choose to see cricket—not as a battlefield, but as a bridge. Let the pitch be a place of pride, not of posturing. Let handshakes return—not as hollow gestures, but as symbols of shared humanity.

Let us remember Colombo. And let us not let politics steal that magic again. (javidyusuf@gmail.com)