Sunday, September 12, 2010

AISAM-UL-HAQ QURESHI - ROHAN BHOPANNA

An unstoppable force now


As one watched Rohan Bopanna and Aisam Qureshi at the US Open on Friday night, one couldn't help but wonder at its timing: Was it ordained by higher and mysterious forces? Was it the divine intervention we have been waiting for?

To begin with, it was the eve of 9/11, the day the world horrifically realized nine years ago that it had become an unsafe place; at the same time, far away from the Flushing Meadows, the ties between India and Pakistan had plummeted to a new low.

Worse, Pakistan has been reeling with the news that its heroes and idols were actually in the grip of bookies and match-fixers; it almost seemed like the country had nothing to look forward to.

And yet, out of the blue, came the silver lining: Rohan and Aisam conjoining to become an unlikely force, the like of which India and Pakistan have probably never seen. As the duo battled the Bryan twins, the two countries ambassadors to UN sat next to each other, rejoicing as long-lost friends; the stands were packed with Indians and Pakistanis, for once echoing the same sentiment too.

In the end, Rohan and Aisam lost the match; but they had won the bigger battle: they had brought the two forever hostile nations together, if only for just one sensational evening. The Bryans choked in the aftermath, even conceding that they would have been happier to lose had it not been a Grand Slam final.

Rohan and Aisam are an unlikely couple though: the former is from the quaint town of Coorg, with surprisingly big ground-strokes; the latter is from bustling Lahore, and is happier volleying. But yes, there is one thing in common: both are quiet and dignified on the court, like true gentlemen. Indeed, they were a welcome relief from the chest-pumping, screaming Tarzans that we see on the circuit nowadays: they went about dismantling Mike and Bob like proud warriors, rather than like desperate street fighters.

They won many big points in the course of the engrossing tussle; they produced quite a few stunning winners too. Yet, they barely clunked fists or let out war cries of delight. They were respectful towards their higher-ranked opponents and mindful of the gravity of the occasion.

It was easy to catch the secret signal one gave to the other before every serve; they shielded their mouths as they exchanged strategies at the start of every game too. It means they were not conversing in Hindi; yet, they did speak the same language at play. 

Their movements were precise and there was clarity and faith in the calling; it was clear that they trusted each other, which can't be said of many Indo-Pak friendships.

For once, nobody tried to be the big brother, which automatically rubbed away any feeling of inferiority: they were equals out there. They came together by chance almost seven years ago, and now, almost suddenly, have been propelled into something that is not in their control anymore. They are not playing for themselves any longer, or for their respective countries even; it has become a much, much bigger game now.

The Indo-Pak Express has of course already been consumed by the propagandists; they have already been handed a cause, a mission too: Stop war, start tennis. It is, no doubt, just the beginning. Their efforts will, however, yield result only if they continue to play as beautifully and as strongly as they did in their first Slam final as one; they need to win titles and, only then, each stroke will bring higher glory to both countries.

Could this confluence be an accident? Was it a coincidence that this year Eid and Ganesh Chaturthi have converged too? Maybe not. Maybe, Aman ki asha is not just a grand dream, after all.

12 September 2010 

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