When Cricket Becomes a Casualty: Anguish Over Politics Hijacking Sport

 

-Ramphal Kataria

A Bitter Aftertaste from Asia Cup

The Asia Cup cricket tournament of 2025 should have been remembered for one of the most dramatic finals in T20 history. Instead, it left behind a residue of bitterness. India and Pakistan, facing each other for the first time after the Pahalgam terror attack and Operation Sindoor, could not shed their geopolitical baggage.

The “no handshake” row, the refusal of the Indian team to accept the trophy from Asian Cricket Council Chairman and Pakistan’s Interior Minister Mohsin Naqvi, and the mocking gestures of players mimicking aircraft being shot down or guns being fired—all turned a hard-fought contest into a dismal stage for propaganda.

George Orwell once remarked that “serious sport has nothing to do with fair play. It is bound up with hatred, jealousy, boastfulness, disregard of all rules, and sadistic pleasure in witnessing violence: in other words it is war minus the shooting.” The Asia Cup seemed to confirm his worst fears—except that the “minus” was missing.

Sports and the Idea of Common Humanity

The very origins of organized sport remind us that athletic contests were meant to rise above politics. The Olympic Games of ancient Greece introduced the ekecheiria—an Olympic truce suspending wars so athletes and spectators could travel safely to Olympia.

Baron Pierre de Coubertin, founder of the modern Olympics, declared: “The important thing in life is not the triumph but the struggle. The essential thing is not to have conquered but to have fought well.” He revived the Games in 1896 to educate youth in fairness, equality, and peace.

Sport, in this vision, was not about humiliating rivals but about recognizing a shared humanity. That is why Nelson Mandela later said: “Sport has the power to change the world. It has the power to inspire. It has the power to unite people in a way that little else does.”

Against this backdrop, the politicization of cricket between India and Pakistan is a betrayal of sport’s noblest ideals.

The Asia Cup Farce—From Camaraderie to Acrimony

The tournament began with warmth. Surya Kumar Yadav shook hands with Naqvi during the opening ceremony, signaling that decency was possible. Yet by the final, the atmosphere had curdled.

Gun-toting gestures: Pakistani players Sahibzada Farhan, Haris Rauf and Shaheen Afridi mimicked rifles after taking wickets.

Aircraft-down signs: Jasprit Bumrah, India’s senior pacer, gestured as if a jet had been shot down—an unmistakable reference to the 2019 aerial skirmishes.

The phantom trophy: India refused to accept the cup from Naqvi, instead posing with an “imaginary” trophy.

The Prime Minister’s comment that India’s win was akin to Operation Sindoor pushed things further into farce. Kapil Dev once said: “Cricket is a gentleman’s game. It must be played and remembered for the joy it brings, not for the hatred it stirs.” That wisdom was lost in the theatre of jingoism.

When Cricket United India and Pakistan

This was not always the story. Cricket once played the role of a healer.

The Bajpayee–Musharraf moment (2004): When Pervez Musharraf came to India to watch a match at Vajpayee’s invitation, it sent a message of thaw. Crowds welcomed Pakistani players warmly.

Friendships across borders: Sunil Gavaskar recalled “long and affectionate chats” with Imran Khan. Sourav Ganguly joked about asking Inzamam-ul-Haq to bring him bats from Sialkot. Virender Sehwag narrated how Shoaib Akhtar “was both enemy and brother—deadly with the ball but endlessly funny off the field.”

Shared applause: In 1999, Eden Gardens erupted in applause for Wasim Akram’s artistry. In 2004, Lahore crowds gave standing ovations to Sachin Tendulkar.

These moments affirmed what Imran Khan himself once said: “Cricket is not just a game in our subcontinent; it is a means of building bridges.” The Asia Cup 2025 felt like a deliberate attempt to burn those bridges.

Sport as a Global Healer

History offers many lessons of sport as a peacemaker.

Ping-Pong Diplomacy (1971): Table tennis players from the U.S. and China thawed two decades of hostility. As Richard Nixon later admitted, “A few young men and a little white ball changed the world.”

Mandela and Rugby (1995): By wearing the Springboks jersey, Mandela transformed rugby from a symbol of apartheid into a symbol of unity. Francois Pienaar later recalled: “When Mandela put on that jersey, he did more for reconciliation than any law or speech could.”

Olympic Gestures:

Jesse Owens humiliating Hitler’s Aryan supremacy myth in Berlin, 1936.

Tommie Smith and John Carlos raising their fists in 1968, reminding the world that justice cannot be silenced.

These moments show sport’s potential to elevate humanity above hatred.

India’s Predicament—The Weight of Being the Largest

India, now the world’s most populous nation, carries a unique moral responsibility. Rabindranath Tagore once envisioned India as a land “where the mind is without fear and the head is held high.” Yet in cricket, fear and insecurity are dominating policy.

Instead of using cricket to project confidence and inclusivity, the government has reduced it to a theatre of chest-thumping. The Asia Cup finale was a chance to demonstrate magnanimity in victory; instead, it became a spectacle of insecurity.

As sportswriter Mike Marqusee observed in War Minus the Shooting, his classic study of India–Pakistan cricket: “The contest between India and Pakistan is a reminder of how much sport can reflect politics, but also how much it can transcend it—if only we allow it to.”

Why Sports Must Be Freed from Political Puppetry

Burden on Players: Athletes already endure enormous mental stress. Forcing them into political theatre risks their well-being. Imagine the abuse hurled at a player if a politically charged match is lost.

Loss of Goodwill: Fans once cherished gestures of mutual respect—Wasim Akram coaching Indian youngsters in Kolkata, or Virat Kohli gifting his bat to Mohammad Amir. Today, those moments are rare.

Global Consequences: If cricket is reduced to political vendetta, other sports could follow. What happens when the Olympics or World Cups become hostage to domestic political agendas?

Toward a Better Vision

The way forward requires courage and restraint:

Decouple politics from sport. As Mahatma Gandhi said, “What is true of individuals is also true of nations: that strength does not come from violence but from restraint.”

Resume bilateral engagement. Cricket should return as a channel of contact, as it was in the Vajpayee–Musharraf years.

Global neutrality. ICC leaders must insulate players from state politics. If Jay Shah wants legitimacy as ICC chair, he must put the game above government diktats.

Promote cultural diplomacy. Joint camps, youth exchanges, and charity matches can humanize “the other.”

Cricket Must Heal, Not Divide

The Asia Cup of 2025 will be remembered less for its thrilling cricket than for the pettiness that overshadowed it. That is a tragedy, because India–Pakistan matches have historically given the world some of its most unforgettable sporting memories.

Sports are not a substitute for war; they are an antidote. As Mandela reminded us, “Sport has the power to unite people in a way that little else does.” The question is whether leaders will allow it to.

If cricket continues to be treated as a proxy battlefield, it will sow seeds of hatred that take decades to uproot. But if freed from politics, it can once again be what it was meant to be: a stage for joy, skill, and human connection.

For now, one truth is painfully clear: batsmen and bowlers are being turned into foot soldiers in a war of narratives. And cricket, the gentleman’s game, is the real casualty.

References

1.     Orwell, George. The Sporting Spirit. 1945.

2.     Coubertin, Pierre de. Olympic Memoirs. Lausanne: IOC, 1931.

3.     Mandela, Nelson. Speech at Laureus World Sports Awards, Monaco, 2000.

4.     Nixon, Richard. Memoirs of Richard Nixon. Grosset & Dunlap, 1978.

5.     Pienaar, Francois. Rainbow Warrior. Jonathan Ball Publishers, 1999.

6.     Owens, Jesse. The Jesse Owens Story: An Autobiography. Harper & Row, 1970.

7.     Marqusee, Mike. War Minus the Shooting: A Journey Through South Asia During Cricket’s World Cup. Penguin, 1996.

8.     Tagore, Rabindranath. Gitanjali. Macmillan, 1912.

9.     Gandhi, Mahatma. Young India, 1925–1928. Navajivan Publishing House, 1928.

10.  Tendulkar, Sachin. Playing It My Way. Hodder & Stoughton, 2014.

11.  Gavaskar, Sunil. Sunny Days: Sunil Gavaskar’s Own Story. Rupa, 1976.

12.  Imran Khan. Pakistan: A Personal History. Bantam Press, 2011.

13.  Akram, Wasim. Sultan: A Memoir. HarperCollins, 2019.

14.  ESPNcricinfo archives (various match reports on India–Pakistan cricket diplomacy, 1999–2012).

15.  International Olympic Committee. “Olympic Truce.” IOC Official Website.

16.  Smith, Tommie & Carlos, John. Silent Gesture: The Autobiography of Tommie Smith. Temple University Press, 2007.

17.  Sehwag, Virender. Sehwag: The Autobiography. HarperCollins India, 2017.

18.  Coubertin, Pierre de. Olympic Ideals. IOC Archives.

19.  Kapil Dev. Straight from the Heart: An Autobiography. Penguin, 2004.

20.  BBC News. “India and Pakistan’s Cricket Diplomacy.” (2004–2005).

 

 

Swadeshi 2.0: Slogan, Strategy or Sheer Hypocrisy?

-Ramphal Kataria

Economic Self-Reliance or Political Diversion? India’s Swadeshi Dilemma

Prime Minister Narendra Modi’s recent call for Swadeshi has reignited an old debate—can India, in today’s deeply globalized economy, meaningfully retreat into economic self-reliance? While the rhetoric of Atmanirbharta and Viksit Bharat 2047 carries emotional appeal, the structural realities of international trade, WTO commitments, and India’s manufacturing limitations raise more questions than answers.

Swadeshi: From Gandhiji’s Movement to Modi’s Mantra

Historically, Swadeshi was a moral, political, and economic weapon during the freedom struggle, designed to boycott British goods and promote indigenous industries. That movement thrived because it was powered by nationalist fervor against colonial exploitation (Brown, 1994).

But does today’s scenario resemble that context? India is no longer fighting an imperial power. It is a sovereign participant in a rules-based multilateral trading system—from the World Trade Organization (WTO) to bilateral and multilateral free trade agreements. Unlike the colonial days, India cannot simply decree that imports will stop.

Legal and Trade Realities

Under WTO norms, countries are bound to provide non-discriminatory market access to goods from member nations (WTO, 1994). While safeguard measures, anti-dumping duties, or strategic tariffs can be imposed under certain conditions, blanket bans on foreign goods for political reasons would violate global trade rules.

Furthermore, India itself depends heavily on exports to fuel its growth engine. To expect foreign markets to welcome Indian goods while simultaneously closing domestic doors to their products is trade hypocrisy. For instance, during recent SCO (Shanghai Cooperation Organisation) meetings, India actively discussed enhancing trade with China (MEA, 2025)—the very country whose goods the Prime Minister mocks by pointing out imported idols of Ganeshji “with small eyes.”

Dependence Runs Deep: From Pins to Projects

The Swadeshi plank also ignores the sheer scale of India’s import dependency.

Consumer goods: From kites and threads to mobile phones and textiles, Indian markets are saturated with Chinese and other foreign products (Chakraborty, 2020).

Industrial goods: From heavy machinery to semi-conductors, India’s manufacturing ecosystem leans heavily on imports (UNCTAD, 2023).

National projects: Even the Statue of Unity, hailed as a symbol of pride, was built with Chinese participation (The Hindu, 2018).

The irony is unmistakable—while leaders call for boycotts, government procurement and infrastructure projects themselves rely on foreign components.

The Double Whammy for Domestic Traders

India’s traders and small businesses are caught in the crossfire. Imported stock already fills warehouses. If consumers heed the Swadeshi call overnight, what happens to these goods? Such rhetoric risks stifling demand, hurting traders, and driving up costs for consumers—without any clear plan for transitioning to indigenous alternatives (FICCI, 2024).

Meanwhile, competitors like Vietnam and Cambodia, facing lower tariffs in global markets, steadily expand their export footprint (World Bank, 2024).

The Missing Manufacturing Base

India’s manufacturing contributes barely 14–15% of GDP—a figure stagnant for years despite initiatives like Make in India (CSO, 2023). By contrast, Vietnam’s economy is far more manufacturing-oriented.

Self-reliance requires:

1. Investment in technology and R&D.

2. Expansion of SMEs and large-scale industries.

3. Supply-chain security for critical inputs like semiconductors and rare earths.

4. Policy consistency, rather than rhetorical swings between “global integration” and “self-reliance.”

Without these, Swadeshi risks being reduced to political theater.

A Political Diversion?

Seen against the backdrop of punitive US tariffs and slowing export growth, the Swadeshi push appears less an economic strategy and more a political diversion. It seeks to rally domestic sentiment while glossing over the structural weaknesses in trade competitiveness.

Unlike Gandhiji’s Swadeshi, which rode on the moral urgency of freedom, today’s campaign lacks a pressing existential cause. Citizens are not fighting colonial exploitation; they are navigating the realities of global trade.

Conclusion: Slogan Without Substance

In its current form, Swadeshi 2.0 is neither economically feasible nor strategically grounded. It risks punishing traders, confusing consumers, and undermining India’s credibility in global negotiations.

True Atmanirbharta cannot emerge from sarcastic jibes about imported idols or hollow boycotts. It requires long-term investments in industry, innovation, and competitiveness. Without expanding manufacturing and securing global trade partnerships, Swadeshi remains a nostalgic slogan—more about political optics than economic substance.

The real question is not whether India should aspire for self-reliance, but whether the government has the vision, policy, and preparedness to make it possible. Until then, Swadeshi may be less a roadmap to Viksit Bharat and more a smokescreen to cover today’s trade vulnerabilities.

References

1. Brown, Judith M. Gandhi: Prisoner of Hope. Yale University Press, 1994.

2. WTO. Marrakesh Agreement Establishing the World Trade Organization. 1994.

3. Ministry of External Affairs (MEA). India’s Statement at the SCO Summit 2025. Government of India, 2025.

4. Chakraborty, R. “India’s Import Dependence on China: From Electronics to Toys.” Economic & Political Weekly, Vol. 55, Issue 34, 2020.

5. UNCTAD. World Investment Report 2023. United Nations, 2023.

6. The Hindu. “Chinese Firm Supplied Material for Statue of Unity.” 30 Oct 2018.

7. FICCI. Trade and Industry Outlook Report. Federation of Indian Chambers of Commerce and Industry, 2024.

8. World Bank. East Asia and Pacific Economic Update. 2024.

9. Central Statistical Organisation (CSO). National Accounts Statistics 2023. Government of India.

 

GST 2.0: A Festival of Savings, or Just Another Festival of Eyewash?

-Ramphal Kataria 

8 Years of High GST, 1 Sunday of ‘Savings’ — Who Really Wins?

On Sunday evening, Prime Minister Modi announced that two festivals were about to begin: Navratri, and a “festival of GST savings.” The timing was telling — GST 2.0’s rollout was framed not as a fiscal reform, but as a cultural spectacle. One wonders: what kind of festival is it when for eight long years, GST itself has been a festival of burdens?

Since July 2017, GST has filled government coffers while emptying citizens’ wallets. Revenues have ballooned from ₹7.40 lakh crore in 2017-18 to over ₹22 lakh crore in 2024-25. For the state, GST has been a roaring success. For the consumer, it has been a slow bleed.

Now, suddenly, we are told that “savings will inflate.” Why? Not because the government had a change of heart, but because international pressure — particularly American criticism of India’s high tariffs — forced a rationalisation. This is less economic benevolence, more trade diplomacy under duress.

And yet, the basic question remains unanswered: how will consumers actually get these so-called savings? The stock already in shops has been taxed at the higher rate. Unless there is a mechanism to enforce price reductions, traders will quietly pocket the difference. The state will claim credit, companies will enjoy windfalls, and the public will be left wondering what exactly got cheaper.

This is not paranoia. It has happened before. The much-hyped National Anti-Profiteering Authority (NAA) confirmed profiteering of hundreds of crores by big firms like HUL and Domino’s when GST rates were cut earlier. Instead of strengthening this watchdog, the government quietly dissolved it in 2022, handing its weak functions to the Competition Commission of India. Today, when rate cuts are being trumpeted as a “festival,” the enforcement mechanism is toothless.

No surprise then that three out of four Indians in a recent survey said they don’t believe brands will pass on the GST cuts. Ordinary people have learned the hard way: the government’s festival is their eyewash.

And all this while the Prime Minister invokes “swadeshi,” urging every shop to be decorated with indigenous goods. The irony is hard to miss. Walk into any Indian household or bazaar — from smartphones to kitchen appliances — imports dominate. To talk of self-reliance while households groan under foreign-brand dependency is less patriotism, more theatre.

The larger hypocrisy is that while small traders, households, and workers bear the weight of GST, big business lords thrive. Reliance, for instance, bought cheap Russian oil and reaped profits while the “savings” never reached consumers. International tirades over tariffs and oil purchases forced India’s hand, not compassion for the middle class.

The truth is simple: GST 2.0 is not a festival of savings, it is a festival of numbers. A desperate attempt to dress up fiscal compulsion as nationalist celebration. The rhetoric of “Atmanirbhar Bharat” is invoked even as global trade realities dictate policy.

Eight years of high slabs, cascading compliance, and revenue extraction cannot be erased by a single Sunday-night speech. Unless profiteering is curbed, unless transparency is enforced, GST 2.0 will be remembered not as reform, but as another round of eyewash.

References

1. “GST Collection Data,” Busy Accounting, 2025.

2. “GST Collections Rise 6.5% in August 2025,” DD News, September 2025.

3. “Why Govt May Revive Anti-Profiteering Authority Post GST Cuts,” Outlook Business, 2019.

4. “Anti-Profiteering Functions Moved to CCI,” Lexology, 2022.

5. “GST Rate Reduction Benefits Survey,” LocalCircles, September 2025.

6. “Goods and Services Tax 2.0,” Wikipedia, 2025 (estimates of revenue loss and consumption boost).

 

 

Compassion Without Banners: How the BJP Turned Flood Relief into Electioneering

Flood victims needed dignity and relief. What they got instead was marketing

-Ramphal Kataria

Disaster has always been the truest test of human solidarity. When floods, earthquakes, or famines strike, societies instinctively drop their divisions to help. From ancient times, altruism has been the binding thread of civilisation — neighbours feeding neighbours, strangers saving strangers. That instinct is why langars sprang up during Partition, why aid poured in from 160 countries after the 2004 tsunami, and why ordinary Indians scrambled for oxygen during COVID-19 while governments floundered.¹

But in today’s Punjab, compassion has been repackaged. According to The Tribune, the BJP has been distributing flood relief ration bags stamped with the Prime Minister’s photograph and party slogans.² What should be an act of grace has been reduced to electoral pamphleteering. If this is the “world’s largest political party,” then why the need for such smallness? Relief work should not come with a logo. Grief is not a campaign rally.

This tactic is not new — Congress leaders once plastered their faces on drought relief schemes, regional satraps renamed disaster funds after themselves, and chief ministers often treat calamities as televised photo-ops. But there is something especially cynical about branding bags of food meant for the dispossessed. It is, quite literally, rubbing salt into wounds.

Contrast this with real altruism. After the Gujarat earthquake in 2001, Bollywood actors and industrialists organised massive fundraisers.³ When Uttarakhand was submerged in 2013, Khalsa Aid volunteers trekked into mountains with hot meals.⁴ In 1985, Bob Geldof’s Live Aid raised $125 million for Ethiopian famine victims — an effort remembered for its urgency, not its marketing.⁵ And after Haiti’s 2010 earthquake, Sikh diaspora groups set up langars in Port-au-Prince, feeding survivors thousands of miles from Punjab.⁶ These gestures carried no banners, no slogans, no votes — only humanity.

Science itself confirms this instinct. Psychologists call it altruism; neuroscientists show that acts of generosity activate the brain’s reward circuits, releasing dopamine and oxytocin — nature’s way of reminding us that giving is as essential as breathing.⁷ Compassion is not propaganda. It is hardwired into who we are.

And yet, politics keeps trying to privatise compassion. Relief kits become billboards, and suffering becomes another backdrop for electoral theatre. The BJP is not alone in this; but its scale makes its hypocrisy glaring. A party that boasts of being the “largest” seems unable to rise above the pettiness of branding ration bags.

Punjab does not need ration kits with slogans. It needs schools reopened, roofs rebuilt, and fields restored. It needs solidarity, not selfies. It needs kindness, not campaign material.

Altruism has always been civilisation’s greatest achievement — a force that unites strangers across continents, religions, and classes. To cheapen it with propaganda is to betray not just the victims of Punjab’s floods but the very idea of humanity.

Relief must never be remembered for the banners it carried. It must be remembered for the humanity it embodied. Anything less is politics at its most disgraceful.

References

1. United Nations Office for the Coordination of Humanitarian Affairs (UNOCHA), Indian Ocean Tsunami Humanitarian Response Review, 2005.

2. The Tribune, “Punjab BJP puts Modi photo on ration bags, hopes to expand influence,” September 2025.

3. Government of India, Gujarat Earthquake Relief and Rehabilitation Report, 2002.

4. Khalsa Aid International, “Uttarakhand Floods Relief,” Field Report 2013.

5. BBC, “Live Aid: The day music rocked the world,” July 13, 2015.

6. Khalsa Aid International, “Haiti Earthquake Relief,” 2010 Reports.

7. Jorge Moll et al., “Human Fronto–Mesolimbic Networks Guide Decisions About Charitable Donation,” PNAS, 2006.

 

Migration, Mischief, and the Myth of Purity: Punjab and the Global Migrant Paradox

 

- Ramphal Kataria

From Welcome Hands to Witch Hunt: Punjab’s Migrant Meltdown

From fields to factories, from gurdwaras to ballot boxes, the very hands that sustain Punjab’s economy and culture are being cast as outsiders—revealing a dangerous drift from tolerance to fear.

Punjab is at it again. The land of Bhangra, lassi, and the legendary sarbat da bhala is suddenly passing panchayat resolutions to “protect” itself from fellow Indians. Migrants from Uttar Pradesh and Bihar—who have fed our fields, built our cities, and even ensured our gurdwaras stay humming—are now the latest bogeymen in a familiar drama: fear of the outsider.

Let’s pause and be brutally honest. Punjab’s youth are off in Canada, the UK, Italy, and the US chasing opportunities. Who harvests the wheat, lays the bricks, cleans the homes, and powers the factories? Migrants. And now, because someone in the village council read a sensational news headline, these same workers are suddenly accused of “changing our culture” and “stealing jobs.”

From Welcome Mats to Walking Warnings

This isn’t new. Mumbai has been here before. The Shiv Sena’s anti-migrant crusade in the 1960s and 70s, targeting South Indians and later North Indians, is the blueprint. Initially, migrants were tolerated—they filled the city’s labour gaps, cooked the meals, cleaned the streets, and kept the economy ticking. Over time, the narrative changed: they became outsiders, criminals, and threats to Marathi pride. Punjab’s panchayat resolutions smell like déjà vu.

Globally, the pattern repeats itself. In Europe, right-wing parties warn of migrants “taking over” schools, hospitals, and neighborhoods. In Australia, South Asian students were attacked for being visible and prosperous. In the US, migrants are routinely scapegoated for crime, poverty, and “culture dilution.” Even in the UK, Brexit rode on fear of immigrants—while a man of Indian descent, Rishi Sunak, now sits at the very apex of government.

Migration is Intimate, Not Just Economic

Here’s what nobody in Ludhiana or Amritsar wants to talk about: migration changes families. It changes bedrooms, kitchens, and the very DNA of a society. Cross-cultural marriages, sexual unions, and new generations are inevitable. Punjab today sees Bhojpuri-speaking migrants marrying locals. The children of these unions grow up speaking Punjabi and Bhojpuri, celebrating Diwali and Eid, eating dal with butter chicken. They are the hybrids that scare purists, the living proof that culture is never static.

Look abroad. In Latin America, Indian indentured labourers married across ethnic and racial lines, producing communities that now dominate politics and culture in Guyana, Suriname, and Trinidad. In North America, interracial marriages—once illegal—are now celebrated, producing generations that redefine American identity. In the UK, British Asians navigate both curry and Yorkshire pudding. Migration is not just labour; it’s intimacy, inheritance, and identity.

Economic Engines, Political Pawns

Migrants do more than clean homes and till fields—they shift political power. In Punjab, migrant votes influence parliamentary outcomes in Ludhiana, Jalandhar, and Amritsar. Globally, second-generation migrants in Canada, the US, and the UK are rewriting politics, winning elections, and shaping policy. Those who rail against “outsiders” conveniently forget that today’s migrant labourer may be tomorrow’s elected official—or Prime Minister, as history in Guyana, Trinidad, and even the UK proves.

Yet, the same migrants who sustain economies become targets of rage. Why? Because migration unsettles the neat little boxes of ethnicity, caste, and “purity.” Right-wing ideologues everywhere—from Mumbai to Melbourne—love to blame migrants for crime, poverty, or even “eating our culture.” The absurdity is breathtaking: migrants take the jobs no one else wants, build the cities no one else can, and feed the families no one else will—and are still accused of ruining society.

The Punjab Paradox

Here is the irony of Punjab’s current hysteria. Punjabis migrate to foreign lands seeking dignity, respect, and opportunity. And yet, the same Punjabis—now comfortable and established—turn around and make fellow Indians feel like criminals at home. Beating them, stopping them from entering gurdwaras, pushing them back on trains… this is not tolerance. This is paranoia masquerading as “protection.”

History, both local and global, tells us the same story. Aryans intermarried with indigenous populations. Islamic, European, and African migrations shaped India, the Americas, and Europe. Every society that claims to be “pure” is, in reality, a mosaic of movement, mixing, and hybridity. Punjab is now rewriting this history in real time—and not in a flattering way.

Conclusion: Migration is Inevitable. Prejudice is a Choice

Migration is neither a crime nor a threat; it is a human condition. It shapes economies, creates families, forges cultures, and even rewrites politics. The only danger is the mindset that treats fellow humans as outsiders in their own country. Punjab, Mumbai, Europe, the US, Australia, and the UK have all flirted with this deadly illusion. History—and common sense—proves it never ends well.

If Punjab wants to retain its soul, it must remember that the hands that sow its wheat today might also cast a vote tomorrow. The children born of cross-cultural unions are not “foreigners”; they are the future. To deny them, or their parents, is to deny humanity itself.

 

References / Studies for Context:

· 

1. Castles, Stephen & Miller, Mark J. The Age of Migration: International Population Movements in the Modern World. 2009.

2. Gilroy, Paul. The Black Atlantic: Modernity and Double Consciousness. 1993.

3. Sassen, Saskia. Guests and Aliens. 1999.

4. UN DESA. International Migration Report 2020.

5. Deshingkar, Priya & Akter, Shaheen. Migration and Human Development in India. 2009.

6. Vertovec, Steven. Transnationalism. 2009.

7. Chandavarkar, R. The Origins of Industrial Capitalism in India: Bombay, 1900–1940. 1994.