(A)live and kicking
It’s safe to turn on the telly again: there’s some good news at last. Heart-wrenching images of suicide bombings, IDP camps and protests against electricity black-outs have dominated television screens for so long that we had almost forgotten that it could provide good, solid and healthy entertainment as well.
It all came flooding back though on the night of June 20, 2009, as Pakistan played Sri Lanka in the final match of the ICC Twenty20 World Cup. Many people stayed home, glued to their TV sets. Others invited friends and family to watch the game together. And at a time when gathering at public places is considered risky, large screen TVs were put up in Karachi, Lahore and Islamabad. Men, women and children thronged the roads in the summer heat: counting each run, watching each ball, and praying desperately that their side would win.
And win they did. Younis Khan, Shahid Afridi, Umar Gul and the rest of the team provided the nation some much-needed respite and, after so many months, a reason to celebrate. Televised images of jubilant Pakistanis in London and elsewhere served to remind us that there is still light at the end of a seemingly endless tunnel.
Nowhere were the celebrations more impassioned than within Pakistan itself. In typical Pakistani fashion, news bulletins carried reports of sweets being distributed and impromptu dancing erupting on the streets after Afridi scored the winning run. Thousands of buoyant fans came out of their houses, waving the national flag and congratulating each other on a tremendous win. The vitality that had all but disappeared from the land of the pure suddenly came back to throbbing life.
Just how important this victory actually was became apparent the day before the showdown. On Saturday afternoon the host of radio show was heard signing off with some advice for his fellow countrymen and women. Please remember, he said, that it is important to keep emotions in balance. ‘Don’t let defeat affect your hearts or allow victory go to your heads.’ Sound advice indeed, and a clear indication that there was much more at stake than just a trophy.
Come Sunday morning and the radio and television channels were chockablock with patriotic songs and jingoistic commercials. Banks, soft drink conglomerates and ice-cream manufacturers seemed to be spearheading the revival of the national spirit, while catchy cricket anthems by Strings and Junoon et al that had not been heard with confidence since the 1992 World Cup insisted that there was reason to be hopeful.
After all, defeating the mighty South African side in the semi-final had been no mean feat. The tournament favourites’ had been bested by — in Younis Khan’s words — ‘the underdogs’ which meant that now anything was possible. Facing Sri Lanka was by no means going to be a walk in the park, Muralidharan and Dilshan and the rest of the very energetic Lankan side promised to be very tough to beat. But just as Obama supporters did some months ago, Pakistan supporters were telling each other over email, via SMS and on Facebook: “Yes we can!”
It was somewhat ironic that Pakistan should be playing Sri Lanka in the final. For it was just months before in March that the visiting Sri Lankan side survived a hail of bullets as they travelled by bus through Lahore and were subsequently airlifted out of the country. The incident sealed Pakistan’s isolation as a cricket host, and turned the national cricket team into a band of landless nomads who would, for the foreseeable future, be on the lookout for venues to play international matches.
But at least for one day all that was forgotten as TV screens across the country beamed images of our cricket team in glorious action. This was Pakistan’s chance to prove to the world that while the chips may be down, it was by no means out of the running. And thanks to the wonder of live television, viewers around the world, especially those in Pakistan, thousands of miles away from the prestigious Lord’s Cricket Ground in London, were able to witness the country reassert itself on the world stage.
It was like the airing of the Mahabharata all over again. Just as devout viewers in India had once adorned their television sets with garlands and burnt incense before watching the latest episode of the religious epic, so Pakistani cricket enthusiasts gave up food, drink and eschewed any social event — in one case a sister’s valima — in order to watch the very limited overs game.
As the game progressed, many Pakistanis gleefully thought of the millions of viewers in India who would also be tuned in. ‘Watch and weep’ they wanted to say, so much for writing off Pakistan from the IPL series and international cricket. Sweet revenge. On live television no less. Ah, it’s good to be a Pakistani again.
Source: Dawn Images
