The outsider?s dilemma

This is a story about identifying with your nationality intensely one minute, yet, feeling that it's all about superficial boundaries the next, writes Kadambari Murali.

This one is not about cricket. It's about much more than that. It's just a small story about a short journey in a foreign land. One that I don't belong to, yet, somehow, that they don't either. It's a story about identifying with your nationality intensely one minute, yet, feeling that it's all about superficial boundaries the next. Read on.

HT Image

It took just an hour-and-a-half from London to Southampton by train on Wednesday morning. At Waterloo station, when I was frantically looking through the screens for the correct platform to go to, I spotted a group of boys with English accents and the distinctive green Pakistani T-shirts. They were obviously going to the Rose Bowl here too, so I hung around with the group, hearing them chatter on about Wayne Rooney and whether Lara would fire.

After about 15 minutes, we walked onto Platform 11 for the 8:30 that would take us to Southampton Parkway station. And involved in their conversation by now, I walked into a coach with them. There were seven of them. Faisal, Shahid, Shahid, Raza, Ijaz, Majid and Imran. London-based students all and very excited about the game.

"Do you hate Pakistan?" asked Ijaz, after I told him I lived in Delhi. "No," I replied. "Why should I?" There was a stilted pause, which I broke by saying I quite liked all the Pakistani cities I had been to thus far. Imran, all of 15, smiled. "What is Karachi like?" he asked. "I've always wanted to go there."