It’s not the United Nations or NATO that’s in panic this week—it’s the world’s cricket boards! All over the globe, from Melbourne to Manchester, from Kingston to Karachi, political leaders have been receiving the strangest messages from their cricket teams.
“Please don’t interfere with India’s foreign policies!” pleaded the West Indies team in a letter to their Prime Minister. “We don’t care if the economy sinks or the beaches flood—just make sure those Indians shake our hands after the match!”
In Australia, the Prime Minister looked puzzled as the captain wrote, “Sir, please tell Delhi we’ll send our army to help them in their next war. We don’t want to win matches anymore—we just want them to touch our palms!”
Across the oceans, in London, the English skipper dashed off a desperate note to Prime Minister Keir Starmer: “Please deport all Pakistanis from the UK immediately. We simply must earn back India’s handshake privileges! Losing wickets we can bear—not losing fingers to diplomatic frostbite!”
The South Africans were no less dramatic. Their message read, “Mr. President, please rename Johannesburg ‘Jai Hind City’ if needed! Just ensure Rohit Sharma doesn’t walk past us like we’re invisible after the toss.”
Meanwhile, the New Zealand team sent an emotional appeal from Wellington: “Dear PM, we’ve survived earthquakes, volcanoes, and sheep stampedes—but the shock of an unshaken Indian hand is too much to bear. Do something!”
Sri Lanka’s captain went spiritual. “Sir,” he wrote to his President, “please send our monks to meditate at the Wagah border. Maybe divine vibes will soften Indian hearts—and their grip.”
Even Afghanistan joined the line. “Respected Leader,” the captain scribbled, “we are ready to rename the Kabul Cricket Stadium ‘Virat Kohli Arena’ if they’ll just pat us on the back after the match.”
Over in Bangladesh, the caretaker Prime Minister—white-haired and wise—peered over his spectacles and asked his captain, “Why all this fuss about shaking hands?”
“Because, sir,” said the captain solemnly, “if we don’t fix this, next time we might have to play kabaddi instead.”
Even the Irish chimed in, declaring their full solidarity. “We’ll send barrels of Guinness to every Indian player! Surely they’ll shake after that!”
And poor Zimbabwe sent a telegram: “We don’t even have a Prime Minister, but please tell whoever’s in charge that we just want one handshake—just one!”
So don’t be surprised if the next world summit isn’t in Geneva, but at the Wankhede Stadium — with eleven captains lined up, palms sweating, waiting for the Indian team to emerge from the pavilion. And as the world holds its breath, the Indian captain strides out, looks at them all and says, “Namaste… no touch policy still in place. But as we did with Pakistan, we will shake hands in the dressing room, where there are no cameras…!”
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Robert Clements is a newspaper columnist and writes a daily column, which has graced the pages of over 60 newspapers and magazines, from a daily column in the Khaleej Times, Dubai, the Morning Star, London, and in nearly every state in India, from The Statesman in Kolkata, to the Kashmir Times in Kashmir to the Trinity Mirror in Chennai.
We are far passed the era of Homer’s poems the Ilyad and the Odyssey where a handshake was an act of trust or sealing a promise. Or much earlier a handshake with a stranger was to signify that he had no arms held in his palm. So now, its obvious that tho’ they play for the
“mullah”, that’s about it…no handshakes please.
Ah, what a touching masterpiece of misplaced priorities! You seem more heartbroken over an unshaken hand than over the blood of our innocent people in Pahalgam.
Let’s get this straight — the Men in Blue didn’t skip a handshake; they stood up for something bigger than a photo-op. They played the match because of professional commitments, but they refused to act as if nothing had happened. That’s not arrogance — that’s respect for the uniform that protects us and for Pahalgam victims.
If a handshake defines “sportsmanship” for some people, maybe they should first try understanding what self-respect and national sentiment mean.
The team didn’t just represent cricket — they represented India’s dignity. And for that, every Indian should be proud.
Your banter had me clean bowled. Hilarious.
..and while on camera, the debate continues between a “handshake” and a “namaste,” (a silly point, really), we have political heroes who continue to swing their bats, making clean sweeps by shooting missiles over and over again, signalling a war ahead, trying to settle scores which is almost a century old.
We desperately need a “third umpire” to review the pitch and appeal for peace and harmony, both on and off the field.
After all, isn’t cricket a “gentleman’s game?”
Can there be handshakes, let alone a sporting event, between enemies, both on or off the field. Never mind the cameras? 🤔