Sunny Gavaskar's and Beef and Pork

Indian cricket has never been stronger. We have world-class infrastructure, unmatched talent, and a dominance over the sport that previous generations could scarcely imagine. Yet, somewhere over the last fifteen years, cricket in India has lost something that no trophy can replace.

After India's triumph in the 1985 World Championship of Cricket, Sunil Gavaskar wrote One-Day Wonders, chronicling the team's journey. One anecdote from that book says more about the spirit of that era than any scorecard.

During fielding practice, Roger Binny would launch catches high into the sky. As the ball disappeared into the sun, someone would shout "Beef!" or "Pork!" before it came down. The team included vegetarians. It included a Muslim. Yet nobody cared. The words themselves were irrelevant. What mattered was the catch. What mattered was the team. What mattered was winning.

That Indian side represented a country of many faiths, languages, regions, and traditions. Their differences were real, but they were never more important than their shared purpose. They could laugh together because they trusted one another. They were secure enough in their identities not to see every joke as an insult.

Imagine the same scene today. A harmless shout of "Beef!" or "Pork!" during practice would likely trigger outrage, social media campaigns, television debates, and demands for apologies. The joke would become the story. Context and intent would be forgotten.

The lesson is not about beef or pork. It is about what we have lost. Real diversity is not merely the coexistence of differences; it is the confidence to live with those differences without fear. Cricket once reflected that confidence. Today's cricket may be richer and more successful, but it often seems poorer in spirit.

As for me, I have stopped watching cricket completely. India's victories, the statistics, and the spectacle no longer hold the same appeal. One reason is that the game appears to have lost the culture that once made it special—the ability of people from different backgrounds to come together without constantly viewing one another through the lens of identity.

I might start liking cricket again.

And you know when?

The day a ball goes high into the sky, someone shouts "Beef!" or "Pork!", everyone laughs, nobody is offended, and the only thing that matters is whether the catch is taken. That day, Indian cricket will have recovered something far more valuable than another World Cup.

It will have recovered its soul.