Running Between the Cricket

Unjingoistic Bangladesh

Some thoughts after two days in Dhaka, puffing and panting against deadlines

Some thoughts after two days in Dhaka, puffing and panting against deadlines

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1. Somebody in the ICC has got it seriously right by giving Bangladesh such a large piece of the World Cup pie this time. It can be confidently said that this is the most passionate cricket country on earth today. And the most touching thing is, this is not fired by jingoism. The common man doesn't really expect Bangladesh to win, at least not the World Cup. They'd be happy if their team could beat one or two of the main sides, and maybe even just reach the quarters. That just seems to have greater value than passion fuelled by an extreme awareness to result.

2. Somehow, these two days in Bangladesh reminded me of growing up in India in the 1980s. There is that same sense of tentative confidence, an innocence that is so fragile, it could be gone before they know it. Just hope Bangladesh don't go down the roads India has over the last decade or two - where greed and power have gradually become the most important leitmotifs to represent the new "confident" face of India. Sadly, those are perhaps inevitable paths down which progress navigates through in the modern world.

3. Sitting in the press box with seasoned journalists makes me appreciate their job much more. It's not easy coping with the vagaries of every specific place, shrugging off the malfunctions, thinking on your feet and scrambling to meet deadlines, regardless of the state of your mind or digestive system. I know I couldn’t do it on a sustained basis.

4. There was a lot to recommend in the opening ceremony – the biggest thing for me was the rootedness of its musical content. A nod to the popular is inevitable in such events but to assimilate the time-honoured with the youth-friendly hip is not an easy balance to achieve. The Bengali music managed to do that without loss of soul or accessibility. It was the imports that made one queasy. The plastic Bollywood drivel of Sonu Nigam and Shankar-Ehsan-Loy (the latter waltzed off the stage even while their vocals were blaring the sound systems, leaving even the most lay spectators with no doubt about the lip-synch charades that were going on) made one wonder how the organisers saw no difference between the opening ceremony of an international sporting event or Filmfare awards (one of the many Bollywood awards) night. The lowest point for me, and by all accounts many people, was Bryan Adams and his clichéd, irrelevant (to this event) brand of faux pop rock. Events like this are such an opportunity to showcase and exchange cultural ideas – there is so much interesting Sri Lankan and Indian music that is as accessible as it is cutting edge and illuminating – to get a has-been Canadian artist just because he is “popular” in the “subcontinent” is an insult to the intelligence of people who are always looking to be somehow heard. It is as if our own ideas and culture do not matter.

5. For the first time in my life, a language I have spoken all my life found a palpable practical dimension. It is not easy to get by in Dhaka without some working knowledge of Bengali – and I’ve had plenty of opportunity to clear hurdles for myself and pleasantly, for people around me with my inherited Bengali comprehension. It’s been a nice feeling – one that has taken me by surprise too.