Curzon's enduring failure and Cricket diplomacy

Cartoon from Oudh Punch, 6 Dec 1906, titled ‘Taqsīm e Bangāl’ or the ‘Partition of Bengal’ with Viceroy Curzon literally carving out a fruit labeled Bengal with a knife labeled ‘Hikmat e Amli’ or ‘Strategy’ and offering a raw deal to the unimpressed natives.

Circa 1905 is usually marked as a watershed moment in the history of Bengal proper. Burdened with the task of propagation of what would eventually be called the Policy of Divide and Rule, the then Viceroy of India, Lord Curzon summarily decided to slice Bengal down the center, creating the two new provinces of East and West Bengal. In his, and the Crown's, defense, there seemed to be a solid, grounded reason behind the Partition- that of religious uniformity. Each Bengal, with its own religious majority and thereby devoid of associated complexities, would self-propagate growth and improve administration, or so it was hoped. What followed suit is, as the saying goes, history. But, what history doesn't tell you is this: that you may divide lands and geographies as you like, but not its people.

I have slowly come to realise this fact over the past few days of my stay in Dhaka, the capital of the erstwhile East Bengal. And much to my surprise, the vehicle of this realisation has been something I least expected- The Gentleman's Game! Last night happened to be an IPL playoff between the Kolkata Knight Riders and Rajasthan Royals. And quite co-incidentally, I was dining out during the first half of the match: at a jam-packed restaurant with an LCD screen tuned to SET MAX. As the KKR bowling shred the Royals to pieces, I watched the atmosphere at the restaurant turn from mildly electric to raucously wild. Every time a wicket fell, the diners went up in a deafening roar. My Dad, who called in the midst of this euphoria, would've probably thought I was being lynched by a blood-thirsty mob, such was the sense of exhilaration. Interestingly, a few moments after the toss, just as we were waiting for the Royals' batsmen to take the field, the waiter standing next to me (unaware of the fact that I came from Calcutta), asked me rather pensively 'What do you think, Bhai-jaan, will the Knight Riders win tonight?'. My reassuring 'yes' came almost as breath of fresh air to him. I may have been gorging on Naan and Dal Makhni in downtown Dhaka, but that night, I could've just as well been sipping cold beer in Park Street without noticing an iota of difference.

At a time when Calcuttans back home are ready to publicly hang King Khan for axing their beloved Dada, it is surprising, nay, mind-boggling the amount of support KKR gets from people in this little-known, decrepit country. With an almost unfailing regularity, the mention of my Calcutta roots to any local brings up some talk or the other about KKR in the next few minutes (uninitiated by me, of course). Most regularly, it is a sort of cautious hope that KKR's new signings will bring them better fate than in the last three editions. One particular gentleman went as far to say that despite all of KKR's past performances, it is still his 'bestest' team in IPL. Looks like the news channels had got it all wrong, this is the real Cricket diplomacy.

When you see such a convergence of public sentiment, it is hard to refrain from putting a reason to it. My first guess of this inexplicable loyalty was the presence of a certain Shakib al-Hasan in the KKR squad (apparently, the only Bangladeshi player in IPL). But, I realised that it went much deeper than that, for people were still deeply mourning KKR's narrow two-run loss in the first match of IPL 4, a match in which al-Hasan was conspicuous by his absence. The only other possible reason that I could conjure was a deep-seated, inherent love for Bengal as a whole, one that is not limited by political boundaries. I was pleasantly surprised when the office errand-boy proudly proclaimed one day that 'your' superstar Mithun-da's hometown is actually in Bangladesh. Indeed, my 'Calcutta introduction' to the locals also often leads to a sort of veiled please-feel-at-home welcome that goes along the lines: 'Dhaka is pretty much like Calcutta- only more crowded and more poor. The language is (almost) the same, so is the weather'.

Clearly, Mr. Curzon, religion is an overrated divisor and language, an underrated unifier.

Epilogue: Sample this bit of cruel irony- Aamar Shonar Bangla (My Golden Bengal), a poem that was written by Rabindranath Tagore in 1905 lamenting the Partition of Bengal is today the National Anthem of Bangladesh.