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Only truth will overcome

Shakeel Abedi

Ours is a special culture that has a deity for almost anything. Rain is not just rain to us, it is the benevolence of the Rain God.

I thought - I wondered - is there a cricket God? I did tapas - penance - in the best traditions of our ancient sages. My quest was not the Divya Asthra that Arjun wanted from Indra, but audience, an interview with the God of Cricket.

I sat with folded legs, arms stretched out, the thumbs touching the forefinger. The minutes turned to hours, the hours to days, a stubble of a beard started to become more prominent. Weeks flew by. Weak with hunger, weighed by the heaviness of failure, I was about to give up.

And then, clearing away the clouds of despair, there appeared a creature, all white and glowing. It was a Goddess, not a God. Cricket had a Goddess watching over. Her presence filled the air with a fragrance that we sometimes get when Sachin hits a beautiful drive off a well bowled delivery. Her presence made me tremble, not in fear, in anticipation and awe, as I had done waiting for the last delivery from Chetan Sharma to Javed Miandad in Sharjah.

And she said, in a subdued voice. "What is it, my son, why do you seek me?" The voice, strange voice, barely a whisper. Like, she needed all her strength and will to say the sentence. She is a Goddess, she could read my mind. "Yes ... sad, isn’t it?"

She walked over to a boulder that lay a few steps to the off side, and said. "I have to sit. I feel weak and tired."

I walked nearer. With joined palms and head bowed. 'I need you, Maata, I need answers, as do a billion out there.'

She smiled, again that rueful smile. "Answers? Ah yes ... answers. What questions do you have?"

My voice was overwhelmed, with passion for the one we love. We love our family, our parents, siblings and children, our friends and colleagues with all our heart. But for cricket we have reserved a place in our souls. My voice was overwhelmed with grief - for I had seen the stateliness of this Goddess in the flowing beard of Grace, in a shining cup lifted high. I had seen her majesty in Bradman as he faced balls that were aimed at him and not his bat; I had seen it in every lifted bat after every century. And this Goddess now needed to sit, too weak to stand for long. In that voice overwhelmed with passion and grief, I asked:

'Maata, why have you forsaken us?'

And before the last word was out I regretted having spoken them. The words pained her; they had come at her like an Imran bouncer on the chin. She sat there not saying anything. For a long while. And then she spoke. Her words even, her gaze on some distant object.

"Listen, son... and do not interrupt. I have never forsaken you. Even in these times of turmoil, in times when greed has taken place of devotion to me, I have shown you the purity, the innocence, the beauty of cricket. Of course, I had do that with 19 and 15-year-olds. The older ones have become to engrossed in luxury. Why have I forsaken you? I have not ... as you have not, my devotees have not. It is the pujaris, the keepers of my temples that have abandoned me."

I wanted to say, 'Oh Maata, you are the Goddess of cricket, why don’t you catch them by collar and throw them into the sea ... .' She raised her palm, be quiet and listen, she said.

"I cannot interfere. If I did, what good would the man’s will be? What good would civilization be? No my son, mine is not to interfere. When a true devotee comes to me, with pure heart and zest, mine is to help him. Whose strength is it when McGrath bowls, who guides his balls? I am the arm with which McGrath bowls, I am the bat with which Sir Richards played. I turned the ball that left Bedi’s fingers.

"When a devotee comes to me, with a prayer on his lips, I answer. I have never left a prayer unanswered.

"Your question, my son, is my answer to you."

She paused, closed her eyes, gathering strength. After a long pause, she opened her eyes.

"But I have a message that you could carry. Tell this to everyone, tell it to my devotees, to the keepers of my temples.

"There many amongst my priests who still have a conscience. There are some whose bats have become heavy with despair. Whose love is still deep, whose souls still belong to cricket, but whose minds have lost hope. Tell them, it is on you that my hopes are tied. Do not wallow in silence, do not become partners in their crimes. Rise above the filth, and protect the game that you believe in and love. If the ones with conscience do not rise then there is no hope for cricket.

"To the one who was my chief priest, and now heads a smaller temple. Tell him. Cricket has been raped in your watchful eyes. I gave you all the best there was, I made you everything you desired. I gave you your popularity and fame. You would have stayed, if not for me, a frog in your little well, I showed you the world. I guided you in your conquest. You had lofty aims, and I became the zest that drove you to make it happen.

"And while you watched, your men treated cricket like an aging prostitute from Calcutta. You watched while the rights of my devotees were trampled, their love was mocked, their devotion peddled in the dark corridors of hotels, over cell phones.

"If blame is to be put, as it will be, it falls without doubt on your shoulders. For the buck, wherever it came from, stopped at you. I made you the final word, the ultimate judge, and you cannot say you did not have the authority or power. You have used your gavel before, you have moved a suspect bowling action as correct, overturned the ruling of a committee created to judge those matters.

"But instead of gratitude, you chose to sell your soul to the demons of greed.

"Once you sink in this quick sand of greed, there is no return. But you can still do something, a small sacrifice for all the blessings you were given. Go away, retire, seek yourself, find yourself, and in time you will be able to escape the clutches of greed, and in time you will find peace.

"You cannot change now, you will not be allowed to change. But going away, handing over the reigns of priesthood to a worthy man is something that you cannot do. For the good of cricket.

"To the others, custodians of my temples. You who inflict hurt on me. Riches won’t give you happiness, ask the Pharaohs, the kings and the wealthy who are dead, all that they earned has been of no use to them.

"To the one who I made the Champion, the one that cries. Tell him. It is true that a honest man should fight for what is his. And to fight, to uphold your dignity and reputation, is laudable. But son, when wars are fought, you do not keep your family by your side. You do your best to keep them safe at home. Is not the ones you teach your family too?

"Time will tell, I know that for truth. Time will tear your reputation to shreds or it will return it to you doubled. But do not fight your fights at home. Your presence in the field will hurt. You walk under the dark umbrella of doubt, and the shadow extends to everyone you touch.

"Oh Champion, I made you strong. Remember, the day when everyone were falling apart. When nothing seemed to be going right. Remember? And remember the small little prayer on your lips, for strength, for dignity? And remember how I answered your prayer? I made you a giant that day, that towered above all. And remember that sprint, when I removed the effects of gravity from under your feet as you ran to catch? I made that run a leap to glory. Oh yes, I have bestowed special favours to you. I have showered glory on you, and everyone of which was deserved. Now is the time to return the favour. An eye for an eye is beneath me, all I ask is a tiny strand of eyelash.

"Do not let the stains on your shirt rub on to the others. You have the courage, you have the greatness, and I know you have the soul of a devotee. Fight the battle elsewhere.

"And to everyone whom I have showered my blessings, those who made centuries like they were playing in their backyard, those whose balls I spun and turned. All those on whom I bestowed power and authority. Your silence, every single moment of silence, is like an arrow that comes straight to my heart. Each time you know of a crime and choose to be silent, a wound opens."

She paused. The Goddess did. And for the first time I saw a smile. A tiny lingering smile. She said: "I not only made you live and breathe cricket, but I stamped it on your DNA. I turned your every move into poetry. I gave you the blessings that I have given only to a few.

"I gave a majestic demeanor. I gave you a heart of a lion, the feet of a mountain goat and eagle eye. To have one of the traits is great. Two is rare. I gave you all three.

"Your devotion deserved more, so I gave you clout, I gave respect, I gave you a persona that could awe the best, that, when you enter a room, could stop all babble and make all listen to you. This was a boon that I have never given anyone else.

"Use it son, use it well and use it . For you have the clout, you have the respect. You will be listened. And remember, each day you spend in silence, each day cricket dies.

"You can’t change the evil in their hearts, and it is not yours to change it too. But you can speak of incompetence, of interference. You cannot remove the sin from my temple, then remove sloth. You have the clout.

"Stand, and the world will stand with you. Stand, and I will be the fire in your eye, the frown on your brow. One with you.

"And then maybe things will be what once they were, and I can watch, as will the world, you weave a magic spell with a piece of wood.

"But until then, I have to sit and rest my feet, every little while."

There was silence. Deafening silence. I waited for more, but I knew there was none. Her gaze returned to me. And again the rueful smile.

Go tell the world what you heard, she had said.

I sighed, and brought my palms together, respectfully, and then I noticed. At a distance there were some shadows. Some creatures, of weird shapes and ugly shapes. A chill traveled up my spine.

'Maate, there ... ,' I pointed my fingers.

"Oh that... that tall one there... is Greed. And the one next to it is Treason. Of course, Cheat and Lie and many more always go with them. They have been stalking me for a while, but fear not, as long as there is even one who loves cricket with his soul...."

She looked towards them, chin up and proud eyes. As only Truth can look at Evil. As only truth can look at evil.