Love, boundaries and the Taliban

[1]

By Timeri N. Murari [2]

Rs 595

When I was asked to review The Taliban Cricket Club, I thought it would be another book piggybacking on cricket mania in the subcontinent and Khaled Hosseini’s The Kite Runner — in which case, originality lost, it would be a drab return to abject cruelty and sadness. As I hate sad stories, or stories which do not have a happy ending, I was really not looking forward to the read.
But the book was a pleasant surprise in many ways. It’s clear that cricket is used as a crutch by the author to generate interest. Whilst this beautiful gentlemen’s game is used by the Taliban to paint a picture of toleration, moderation and globalisation, it is also used as a means to escape the cruelty and tyranny of the Taliban by a frantic girl and her family. In a sense, cricket for the Indian and the Pakistani — especially at a time when the former is desperately trying to crawl out of the medieval era of atrocities against women in its quest for equality for women, and the latter is sinking lower and lower into the cesspool of inequalities and violence against women — is a means of escape from the daily tribulations of life. Getting completely immersed in the game allows men of both nationalities to forget their inadequacies, and it’s interesting to see how the author has used this to benefit his story.
The way Timeri N. Murari uses the fact that his readers would have read earlier books about the Taliban, specifically The Kite Runner, in telling a story about exemplary wit and courage against all odds is interesting. He cleverly uses the sadness of The Kite Runner to keep the reader riveted and wondering when the final blow will come. Murari builds the story using known facts, like the cruelty of the Taliban, the helplessness of women living under Taliban rule and even basic cricket knowledge to spin his yarn. What is left unknown is why an Afghani girl prefers an act so desperate that it could lead to the killing of her entire clan if she were caught.
Now, one could read The Taliban Cricket Club like a normal novel, simple and uncluttered, or one can try and decipher the inner nuances of the book. I always try and look for the deeper meaning of what is being said and I must admit that this book stands out for the bold statements it makes.
The story unfolds in the heart of Taliban-controlled Afghanistan. Rukhsana is a spirited, modern Muslim girl who is suffocated by the Taliban’s ultra-conservative diktats, especially after having lived in India where her father was posted. She sees cruelty and despair with the Taliban and is desperate to flee the country. She has the option of marrying Shaheen, her cousin, and moving to America. She says no because she loves Veer, a Hindu living in India, and a cricketer of local merit. She met Veer and had a tryst with when she was studying there.
Wahidi, the honourable (dishonourable in this case) minister of propagation of virtue and the prevention of vice, is a very real, frightening, decadent monster. He gives the book its rhythm and tempo. If the book is read the simple way, Wahidi is like a cruel, rabid dog, one who should be shot at sight. But if read my way, the author makes an interesting point; that even within the debauched and decadent tribe of the Taliban, their men want a spirited woman and not a doormat when it comes to marriage. I have no idea if that is true — can the fanatic Taliban or even the fanatic Pakistani/Indian man handle a woman of substance and spirit? We are so caught up in our internal conflicts and complexes that many of us have no idea how to respect our women, leave alone make a marriage happy.

To my wife The Taliban Cricket Club is self-indulgent at times, but with a simple and good first half that descends into a baffling muddle. To me it is, if read the simple way, a blatant attempt to use The Kite Runner and cricket to sell a book. But if one reads between the lines, then the book has multiple hues that tingle the grey cells and tug at the conscience. To me the crux of this book is why a Muslim Afghani girl from a well-to-do traditional household chooses Veer from India, a Hindu, over Shaheen, a Muslim, living in the US of A. Rukhsana has numerous opportunities of tying the knot with her cousin but chooses not to and finally returns to India to be with Veer.
The fact that the author brings Delhi into play opens up a whole new plethora of possibilities. Being Afghani, one would assume that Rukhsana would be influenced by the Pakistani belief that India’s secular fabric has been shattered. Pakistani propaganda would have ensured that she believe that the killings in Kashmir and Gujarat backed by votebank politics have made Muslims dispensable. And further, having lived and studied in Delhi, Rukhsana would know that female infanticide, honour killings and dowry deaths are common occurrences in India. She would also know that many Indian girls have empowered themselves to go beyond the moral codes of conduct fixed by family and society for generations and that whilst tradition demands that they remain pure, virgin till the day of marriage, the law in India permitted a girl above 16 years to have consensual premarital sex. At school and university she would have seen girls exercise this liberty with far greater ease in India than in her home town where the act was punishable by death.
It would be no surprise to her that Indian men, much like the men in Pakistan and Afghanistan, would never come to terms with the changing women and were given to domination in order to retain control over them. Knowing all this she chose to leave Afghanistan for India. This I can live with. But Veer choosing not to live in India and going to the US is what I can’t live with. Is the author telling us that Veer
didn’t have faith in India and believed that the United States of America was a safer option for them? Why? To me this decision makes India look as bad as Taliban-ruled Afghanistan in certain ways, especially when it comes to treating our women.
The Taliban do not represent Islam yet the world uses them to flog it. Islam being the most misunderstood religion in the world, the book falls short when it comes to explaining how this peaceful religion could be so badly misrepresented. The author could have used this book to explain the inherent confusions arising out of a truly peaceful religion and to bring out the fact that Islam has nothing to do with the cruelty and brutality of the Taliban.
At the end of the book a grave thought got imprinted on my mind — the ease with which people empower themselves to kill innocents and plunder others’ wealth — and made me wonder if there is a Taliban in each one of us. Just look at the innocent people, women and children killed by the US in Iraq in its quest for oil, the deaths in the World Trade Centre attack, the needless killings in Israel, the genocide in Gujarat and the killing of Sikhs in Delhi, killings in Jammu and Kashmir, genocide in Rwanda… the list is endless. The Taliban Cricket Club raises many fundamental questions but doesn’t answer any. It is left to the readers to find their own answers.

Saad bin Jung is a
former cricketer