Cricket has long been more than a game in South Asia. For Pakistan and India, it is a contest laden with symbolism, watched by millions who see the pitch as an extension of history and politics. This year’s Asia Cup has once again placed the two sides against each other, but the encounter comes in the shadow of the recent ten-day conflict. At a time when the two neighbours have suspended dialogue across most fronts, the cricket field remains one of the last arenas where their rivalry continues to play out under international scrutiny.
The idea of cricket diplomacy has historic roots. In earlier decades, it was occasionally used to signal contact when official channels were closed. General Zia-ul-Haq’s visit to Jaipur during the 1987 series, and Prime Minister Vajpayee’s presence in Lahore in 2004, were remembered as moments when sport overlapped with politics. Players on both sides once shared camaraderie off the field, while fans found in the game a rare language of connection. Today, however, such gestures have all but disappeared.
The political climate in India, hardened by the Hindutva mindset, has left little room for sporting or cultural engagement. Bilateral cricket has been suspended since 2012, with contests restricted to ICC or Asian Cricket Council tournaments. Even the atmosphere on the field reflects the frost. In the recent Asia Cup fixture, Indian players drew criticism for refusing to shake hands with members of the Pakistani squad at the close of the game. What were once acts of professional courtesy now carry political undertones, underlining how deeply hostility has filtered into sport.
The broader geopolitical context reinforces this trend. Following the recent conflict, Pakistan and India have moved further into divergent blocs: Pakistan aligning more closely with China and the Shanghai Cooperation Organisation, India consolidating ties with the United States and partners in the Quadrilateral Security Dialogue.
The Asia Cup fixture, therefore, was not just another game. It encapsulated how Pakistan and India now encounter each other: reluctantly, competitively, and under the gaze of global audiences. Cricket has become an extension of politics rather than a respite from it. In this environment, the pitch is not a ground for reconciliation but a tightly contained stage where rivalry is performed, broadcast, and reinforced.
These alignments extend to cricket as well, with both teams meeting only in multilateral tournaments rather than bilateral tours. The symbolism is clear: the game is now another site where separation is enacted rather than overcome.
Economics reveals a similar pattern. Official trade between Pakistan and India fell from over $2 billion in 2018 to under $500 million by 2022, according to the World Bank. Yet informal and third-country trade flows continue, worth several billion more. Cricket operates under a comparable logic: official bilateral matches have been suspended, but Pakistan and India cannot fully avoid each other, as multilateral tournaments force encounters. Rivalry therefore persists regardless of official restrictions.
The intensity of this rivalry is reflected in the numbers. The 2022 T20 World Cup match between Pakistan and India drew over 229 million viewers globally, making it one of the most-watched sporting events of the year. The Asia Cup fixture this year generated record audiences and advertising revenue once again. These figures confirm that the rivalry remains unmatched in scale, regardless of the state of bilateral relations.
The decline of cricket diplomacy highlights a broader truth: where earlier generations sometimes allowed sport to soften tensions, today’s political climate has closed that space. The rise of exclusionary nationalism in India has hardened attitudes, ensuring that even cricket is no longer insulated from political divides. For Pakistan, the game has become a stage where not only sporting excellence but also national resilience is tested against a neighbour increasingly defined by hostility.
Cricket diplomacy, then, is less about building bridges and more about reflecting divides. The refusal of courtesies such as handshakes, the suspension of bilateral tours, and the heightened rhetoric around each fixture all indicate that the game is now primarily a projection of broader politics. Rather than offering room for dialogue, it has become a mirror of confrontation.
For Pakistan, the challenge lies in maintaining the integrity of its cricketing institutions and ensuring competitiveness at the international level, regardless of political pressures. Cricket remains the country’s most visible cultural export, and its performance on the field carries symbolic weight far beyond sport itself. In a regional context where politics has narrowed opportunities for engagement, success in cricket is one of the few arenas where Pakistan’s image and resilience continue to be asserted.
The Asia Cup fixture, therefore, was not just another game. It encapsulated how Pakistan and India now encounter each other: reluctantly, competitively, and under the gaze of global audiences. Cricket has become an extension of politics rather than a respite from it. In this environment, the pitch is not a ground for reconciliation but a tightly contained stage where rivalry is performed, broadcast, and reinforced.
