When Prime Minister Narendra Modi quipped that India’s “Operation Sindoor” was successful not just on the battlefield but also on the cricket field, he wasn’t exaggerating. Three back-to-back thrashings of Pakistan in the Asia Cup—what better proof that India is scripting a new chapter in world T20 cricket?
For once, let’s silence the chorus of doubting Thomases. Those armchair “cricket experts” who confidently predicted India would wilt under pressure against Pakistan can now politely eat their words. On Sunday night, the world witnessed India’s emphatic five-wicket victory. I suspect even Donald Trump, who has lately found time to host Pakistan’s whining leaders, must have paused his bluster long enough to glance at the scoreboard.
At home, the usual chorus of cynics calling for boycotts or crying foul has also been answered—not with rhetoric, but with runs, wickets, and ruthless execution. If cricket is war minus the shooting, then India has shown it can outgun Pakistan on both fronts.
As a former cricketer and coach, I’ve watched this team’s evolution with admiration—and relief. This isn’t the old fragile India that crumbled when pressure rose. This is a battle-hardened side, brimming with steel and swagger.
Take Tilak Varma. His magnificent 67 wasn’t just a knock; it was a declaration. Under immense pressure, against the likes of Shaheen Shah Afridi and Haris Rauf, he didn’t just survive—he smashed them into the stands, not once or twice but four times. That’s not batting; that’s psychological warfare.
And then Shivam Dube, who uncannily channels the aura of Yuvraj Singh from the 2007 glory days. Tall, fearless, and destructive, Dube didn’t just hit boundaries—he dented Pakistan’s fragile pride. Every punch, every swing was a reminder: India no longer tiptoes around Pakistan; it bulldozes through them.
Of course, no Indian victory would be complete without a dose of drama. Pakistan began the match in control, sitting pretty at 103, before our bowlers unleashed mayhem. From that position of comfort to being skittled out for 147—it was as if someone yanked the carpet from under them.
Kuldeep Yadav, Axar Patel, and Jasprit Bumrah combined guile, aggression, and surgical precision to script the collapse. Even the great Sunil Gavaskar must have sat back and marvelled at the transformation. This wasn’t just bowling—it was a dismantling of Pakistan’s myth that they possess cricket’s most lethal pace and spin attack.
Yes, there was a brief wobble. Abhishek Verma, Shubman Gill, and Suryakumar Yadav departed cheaply, and suddenly India was 36 for 3. Millions of fans—including myself—held their breath. Would Pakistan spring a surprise? Could they snatch the unthinkable?
But then came India’s counterpunch. Tilak, Samson, and Dube displayed the calm of generals in combat. Their partnerships weren’t just runs on the board; they were symbolic barricades against Pakistan’s taunts, memes, and cheap tricks. Once the chase was steady, the result was inevitable.
The humiliation, of course, cuts deeper for Pakistan. Losing once is bad enough. Losing thrice in a single tournament? That’s an existential crisis. But let’s be realistic—Pakistan rarely learns. Whether it’s 1965, 1971, Kargil, or now the cricket field, their script remains the same: provocation, collapse, and denial. A dog’s tail, as the saying goes, never straightens.
For India, though, these victories are more than statistics. They are statements of intent. India is not just competing in T20 cricket; it is dominating. With a blend of fearless youth, seasoned match-winners, and bowlers who can turn matches in an over, India is emerging as the undisputed champion of the format.
So yes, Operation Sindoor has a new theatre—22 yards long, bounded by ropes. And in this theatre, India marches on with bat and ball as its weapons, and victory as its habit.
