In 1996, a day after India’s fantastic win over Pakistan in the Cricket World Cup quarterfinal, I was sitting in the offices of a leading E...
In 1996, a day after India’s fantastic win over Pakistan in the Cricket World Cup quarterfinal, I was sitting in the offices of a leading English daily in Patna. At that time, I used to be a freelance contributor to this national paper’s local edition.
The paper’s features team and I were, of course, discussing cricket. Everybody was trying to guess which strategy the Indian team would adopt against a resurgent Sri Lankan team in the semi-finals.
All of a sudden, the discussion meandered to a new topic: “Is it true that every Indian Muslim secretly cheers for the Pakistan cricket team”? Later, a more specific question was thrown at me by one of the sub-editors: “Tell us what is more important to you, being an Indian, or being a Muslim? If you had to decide between one or the other, which one would you choose?”
“Both my identities are significant to me,” I replied, explaining how a person is capable of belonging to multiple communities at the same time. For example, my identities as a Bihari and as an Indian were not contradictory. Even in my personal life, I could simultaneously be a father, a son. But not everybody was convinced by my answer. I...
