In the normal course of things, nobody would have thought that courtesies and greetings on a cricket field would become a point of contention, let alone a political one. In the past, there have been many instances when on-field squabbles were continued beyond the boundary ropes and things became ugly. Players who were abused while they batted have refused to greet the opponent. But all these cricket-related quarrels were resolved quickly among the players. Even if tensions remained high through a series, things somehow finally settled.

This, though, is not the entire truth. Cricket has always partnered the political. The boycott of South Africa for decades because of apartheid and the ban on cricketers who played there despite the prohibition were political acts. Other types of politics have played out too. In the documentary, Fire of Babylon, we witness the rise of the West Indies cricket team through the mid-20th century. Quite early in the documentary, we realise that for the West Indian cricketers this was not just about succeeding in cricket. Below the surface, socio-political elements were at play. Their desire to conquer the cricketing world was an assertion of identity as well as an anti-colonial and anti-race statement. There have also been political fallouts as a result of what transpired on the cricketing ground. The Bodyline series between England and Australia in 1932-33 affected diplomatic relations between the two countries.

But what happened in Dubai was different. India and Pakistan had agreed to play against each other in an international tournament in spite of the terrorist attack in Pahalgam and the limited conflict between the two countries a few months ago. This means the two boards had agreed to go ahead with the match. More importantly, the Indian government had granted permission to the Board of Control for Cricket in India for the Indian team to participate. After having played the game, the Indian team refused to shake hands with its counterpart. Then the Indian captain stated that the victory was dedicated to the victims of the Pahalgam attack and the armed forces. All these actions were obviously pre-determined and I will not hold anything against Suryakumar Yadav as he was just doing as told (one wishes, though, that our sportspersons had a little more spine!). The vulgarity of playing the game for obvious commercial reasons and then acting as if they cared about those who lost their lives trivialises the people who died and the gravity of all that happened. The episode clearly shows that the Indian government cares only about the optics and is convinced that such puerile gestures are enough to keep its citizens satisfied.

If India had lost the game, what would the captain have done? Would it have been a collective failure to honour the victims of the terrorist attack and to respect the armed forces? Would the BCCI have asked Yadav to apologise for failing his country?

Many who have criticised the actions of the Indian team have taken a ‘don’t politicise sport’ stance. That does not hold water. As Sunil Gavaskar said in a television interview, cricket has always been political. The problem with the Dubai incident is the flakiness of it all. If the Government of India had an issue with the event, it should not have allowed the team to participate in the tournament.

This incident also raises the larger question of whether cricket — or, for that matter, any sport — can truly bring countries together. From when I can remember, games between India and Pakistan have always been a battle. For that matter, this was the case with any country but to a lesser extent. At a personal level, cricketers may have had great relations with one another, but they always knew that for the audience it was much more. The number of attacks on cricketers’ homes after a loss only proves my point.

The very nature of sport makes it impossible for it to be anything other than a tense competition. Simply put, sportspersons play to win. Winning is not a utopian or an abstract sensation that has no bearing on the minds of sportspersons. Winning is vanquishing, even if it means playing by the rules. There are also those methods that exist at the very edge of the rules. They are accepted as part and parcel of sport. Sledging in cricket is justified as ‘mind games’, a term that is reminiscent of the expression, ‘psychological warfare’. We have also seen verbal exchanges deteriorate quickly to rage and abuse. Even then, only the extent of the decay is questioned, not the method itself. Sport is gladiatorial in nature and the destruction of the Other is at the epicentre of its intention. Some sports have even turned violent. All this emanates from the mad urge to win at any cost, expressed in the idiom, ‘killer instinct’.

This madness is not only born from the need for personal gratification. The overarching identity that every sportsperson is propelled by and which deepens his/her urge to be the victor is nationality. This geopolitical construction that is ingrained culturally in every citizen worsens the atmosphere on the sports field. We often hear sportspersons speaking of pride in playing for one’s country. That sense of belonging is fierce. With it comes a bundle of feelings: gratitude, loyalty, protectionism, defence, and pressure. Every time the national anthem is played before a game, we can sense the anxiety in the players’ eyes. A loss makes them feel as if they have let down an entire nation. The contrast between sports where the national identity is not foregrounded and sports where citizenship is at the very centre makes it clear that representing a country results in a much more cut-throat and unforgiving sporting atmosphere. This kind of identity-building is now not limited to nationalities. States, cities, and clubs have also cultivated a sense of belonging that generates hate and anger.

In such a situation, what is the role of sport in our lives? As an avid sports fan, I am uncomfortable with my conclusion. Sports are a display of incredible skill, and playing and watching them are pleasurable. Any sport is a profession. Each game generates many jobs in ancillary occupations and can have a significant impact on local, regional, and national economies. The practice of sport cultivates some wonderful traits in individuals. But these are by and large limited in nature. Individual sportspersons who display kindness of a very high order have done so because of who they are. The sport did not teach them that way of living. Sports intrinsically have little to do with goodness in the larger sense of the word. As long as we remember that the elegance, beauty, style, finesse and power that a batsman or a bowler displays have little to do with the intention of cricket, we will not be disappointed.

But some exceptional human beings who are also sportspersons give me hope that a game can be more than just a conquest.

At the Tokyo Olympics in 2021, the Qatari high-jumper, Mutaz Barshim, showed a way to love and win. Italy’s Gianmarco Tamberi and he were tied for the top position after clearing 2.37 metres, respectively. They could have gone on and waited for one of them to slip up, so that one of them could stand on the podium as the singular victor. But Barshim asked the referee, "Can we have two golds?" Turned out they could.

Barshim had this to say: "The funny thing is we understood each other just by looking. We athletes are competitive. That’s in our nature and that’s what we have been doing for so many years. But you know, for me, it is very important also not to forget the real reason of sport, the real message — this is still sport, it’s still a tool for us to come together and build this kind of relationship … this is humanity, solidarity, unity, it’s just like peace coming all together."

T.M. Krishna is a leading Indian musician and a prominent public intellectual