When cricket returned to Pakistan

On some level in my life, invariably, there is an abiding love for cricket. Whether I follow all games the Pakistan cricket team plays, whether I remain updated about the inclusion or exclusion of players in the team, whether I deem most matches painfully dull or not, whether I even know the names of all players, leave alone the individual performance statistics, there is no denying the pull this sport has for me. For years, I watched only the big matches being played by Pakistan in different tournaments all over the cricket-playing world, and that was my extent of interest in cricket. At the back of my mind, the uncomfortable fact stirred up frequently, like that strange, inexplicable pain in one's left ankle at 4am. The exit of international cricket from Pakistan after that fateful day in March 2009. That changed six years later in May 2015. The Zimbabwe cricket team arrived in Pakistan to play cricket. And Lahore, along with the rest of Pakistan, whooped in joy.

As I watched, or thought I watched, the match ensconced in my old friend Zakir Khan's box room, and, for an hour at the narrow terrace, overloading on local bakery sugar-filled biscuits, my overwhelming thought was: this is the real Pakistan. I'm not a peddler of a "soft" Pakistan, nor do I close my eyes to the existence of a "hard" Pakistan. Accepting Pakistan with all its flaws, I look at it how it appears to me. On any given day. And on May 29, 2015, during the One-Day International (ODI) between Pakistan and Zimbabwe, I saw the Gaddafi Stadium in Lahore fill up with children, girls, boys, women, men, their faces lit up with huge smiles, and later the huge lights that enveloped the stadium in a white halo under a dark-grey overcast sky. Each seat was taken, and there was constant cheer, and typical Punjabi noise, all jumbling into that one coherent slogan: "Pakistan Zindabad".

This was one match where the opposing team got tremendous applause for each good shot, each stopped run and each successful bowling action. The Lahori cricket crowd is known for its generous praise for all good performances, whether they are of their own team or the visiting players. The Zimbabweans, being the players who ended the limbo of international cricket in Pakistan, have been hailed as big-hearted sportsmen who have visited Pakistan when all cricket-playing nations RSVP-ed invitations to visit Pakistan in the negative. And although the Pakistan team won the match, the feeling of beating a team lacked the stereotypical glee of being one-up on a sporting rival.

The Gaddafi Stadium was cordoned off on all sides so well that it was a Herculean effort to reach the enclosures where the 20,000-plus spectators sat, stood, cheered, and chanted merry slogans. But this was one security set up that one had no issue with. After the March 2009 tragedy involving the Sri Lankan cricket team, this was the least that the Pakistan government could implement, even if it was for one cricket series: a foolproof, state-of-the-art, around-the-clock security paradigm that would ensure the safety of all players, personnel and spectators of cricket in Lahore. In any country that is on a terror alert, it is the price you pay. You put up barricades and barbed wires and fences and electronic gates and human shields to protect your guests, and your own people. At times, the price is paid in blood, but then that painful reality goes a long way to pave the way for defusing the threat of terror, and a safer tomorrow. Pakistan needs that. For its own survival, and for opening its doors to all those who wish to visit Pakistan.

Wasim Akram, whom I know as a wonderful person (one of my closest friends is one of Akram's closest friend) and a very devoted father (our children went to the same school after the tragic death of his wife, and before he moved to Karachi), tweeted:

I'm so impressed by my home country. I'm at Gaddafi stadium for the first time in a long time.Welcome Zimbabwe! pic.twitter.com/hn8LevCT5P

— Wasim Akram (@wasimakramlive) May 29, 2015

His words echo the sentiment of millions of Pakistanis who watch in despair as their beloved homeland is battered with constant bloodbath, its image being delineated in gore. As millions of peaceful and peace-loving Pakistanis go about their regular lives, the darkness of terror strikes one community or the other in one or the other part of Pakistan. And while Pakistanis lament, and express their grief and anger to one another, in groups, on social media, through print and electronic media, nothing seems to give. At least on the surface. Lately, there is an almost palpable feeling of enough-is-enough. As one senses the ifs and buts slithering into rabbit-holes, there is a categorical denunciation - government and public in unison - of terror activities. And before the idea is put into motion, the writing has to change on the wall: no innocent life is to be taken. Notwithstanding the views, narratives, ideology, faith, and nationality.

And while I, as well as most in that room at the stadium, took a selfie with one of my favouite cricketers, the very fabulous, former Pakistani cricket team captain, Misbah-ul-Haq, it was heartening to hear his positivity about the cricket being played in the field, and of the future games Pakistan would play. And while my niece, who like all people her age is bored with sitting at one place for long, pestered me to leave, I was happy to see my nephew, whose biggest love in life are food and sports, in changing order, get autographs from Wasim and Misbah, before posing for pictures in that stiff child mode that is, sort of, global.

Having Pepsi non-stop, (Yes, one could tell Pepsi was one of the main sponsors of the event noticing the complete absence of Diet-Coke - no menu of high-fat, rich Pakistani-catered food is complete without Diet-coke), my nephew and the other children were just happy to be watching a live game. As I say, nothing beats the high of watching a well-played sport amidst cheer and well-intentioned yelling. With his upbeat comments and whacky sense of humour, Ali Zafar who accompanied the inimitable Rameez Raja, the former cricketer, and international commentator, kept the television commentary in sync with the overwhelming positive ambiance of the Gaddafi Stadium.

The hashtag #cricketcomeshome is the best three-word encapsulation of the sentiment of almost 190 million Pakistanis who wish to go on with their lives with serenity and peace at home and outside. Pakistan is our home, and we wish to see it hospitable and warmly responsive to all guests, be they from our own land or outside.

It would all be incomplete without the impeccable work of the Pakistan Cricket Board and its personnel. It would all still be a dream without the superlative efforts of the Punjab government. And none of it would have been so smooth if it weren't for the round-the-clock, immaculate professionalism and dedication of the Punjab Police officers and thousands of nameless, faceless policemen who put their lives on the line to keep ours safe. I salute you all, our unsung heroes.