I come from a generation of Bengalis for whom the greatest pride in Indian cricket is a southpaw who batted with footwork that went from minimal to even zero at times, moved his body parts starting from the backside and down till the right foot at awkward angles to play his shots from the crease, and ran awkwardly. The sketchy, in fact dreadful, description, does more to mark him out as cricket’s version of either Mr Bean or Forest Gump; no hero material, I’m sure.

And yet, Sourav Chandidas Ganguly was – is – more than a hero for a whole generation. Yes, it had a lot to do with those sweetly timed boundaries and ruthless down-the-wicket sixes but it had just as much, if not more, to do with the fact that he shared our identity. Bengali-ness. (Never mind the lack of footwork; come to Bengal, we will show you a dozen dancers and danseuses who have a fetish for footwork!)

And I am talking here about a community that is as ‘assimilated’, ‘integrated’, ‘absorbed’, or what have you, with the idea called India as the mother idea itself. I know tens of people, friends and relatives included, who liked walls or gods like Rahul Dravid or Sachin Tendulkars less than Ganguly till he called it a day – or was forced out by “politics”, that favourite, all-weather phrase of Bengalis. This figure could run into lakhs if anyone carries out a referendum till this day.

So am I wrong in assuming that Kashmiris would have taken a similar pride in Indian cricket –repeat: INDIAN cricket – had the team played Pervez Rasool in the just-concluded ODI series in Zimbabwe?

Proponents of “cricket is a serious business not to be toyed with, unlike, well, toys” have of course offered analysed reasons why the young all-rounder from Kashmir was not played in any of the five matches. Virat Kohli, the skipper, was grilled pretty intensely by the media and he came up with a defence that, without doubt, sounds good: blah, blah, and blah. (You just can’t beat the blah-blahs for sound arguments, can you?)

But take a deep breath, think again, and then tell me why Rasool could not have played for Ravindra Jadeja who is the “kind of bowler who can get you wickets at any point in time” against a team whose batsmen would have been overawed had Kohli himself been bowling. Or replaced Amit Mishra, whom Kohli “wanted to give” four or five games even after the series was won. Or played in place of Mohit Sharma and Jaydev Unadkat, who got a “chance for the first time (and) showed a lot of character”.

Or, in fact, played in place of Kohli himself in the last match – an ideal time for the batsman to sit out and blood the ‘rookies’. Question: Why only Rasool? Why does he get preference over other youngsters? Answer: Recheck the Kashmir angle.

And don’t come back with the keep-politics-out-of-sports line, please. Because it does not work. Not in this case. Not ever. Sports is but politics in motion, played by pot-bellied gents in suits in administration offices and enacted by athletic men and women on field. Our cricketers play, or do not play, teams as per decisions of the government of the day. And they need a go-ahead from the political executive to play against many an opposition.

Cricket, or sports in general, has not ventured into India from Mars. So there is no reason why it deserves to be treated with special care – kid gloves and all. Remember, even the supreme court has not given any verdict against reservation in specialised fields of education like medicine, engineering, etc. The bench of former chief justice Altamas Kabir only ruled (on July 18, and which is being opposed inside parliament) that there cannot be reservation in appointment of faculty members in specialty and super-specialty medical courses.

Stretch this logic to cricket, and it means no reservation in critical games – like those against the big teams or crucial phases in big tournaments. For the rest, the likes of Kohli should not take themselves too seriously. If playing cricketers from trouble-torn areas in inconsequential games help heal some wounds, there is no reason why the likes of Virat Kohli can pretend to be the last champions of an imagined excellence

Cricket is not a life-saving or life-threatening profession, neither are cricketers involved in specialty or super-specialty diagnoses. They only play a game, and if that means including someone in an inconsequential game with chances of big consequences, they better include him.

And if that means including people from terror-affected or Maoist-inflicted areas, they better do it. That’s called assimilation, integration of a greater number of people – what a part, howsoever small, felt while watching Ganguly bat in India colours, and what BCCI calls “spreading the game”. Otherwise there’s no reason why India should play Zimbabwe in the first place.