February 14, 2000 Gaddafi Stadium, Lahore 18:00 Hours (6:00 PM)
The deal with the BCCI had been surprisingly easy. Jagmohan Dalmiya, the fox of Kolkata, had initially hesitated. "Twenty overs? It's a gamble, General."
I had replied, "Mr. Dalmiya, it's not a gamble. It's a blockbuster. We don't just sell cricket. We sell Shah Rukh Khan."
That sealed it. Dalmiya smelled the money.
Now, sitting in the VIP Box of Gaddafi Stadium, I looked down at the sea of humanity. The stadium was packed to the rafters—30,000 people inside, another 10,000 outside banging on the gates.
But they weren't just chanting for the players.
The Show
The floodlights dimmed. A spotlight hit the center stage erected on the outfield.
"Ladies and Gentlemen!" the voice boomed, recognizable instantly to a billion people. "Salaam Lahore!"
Shah Rukh Khan walked out, wearing a black pathani suit, his arms spread wide in his signature pose. Beside him, Kajol waved, looking radiant in emerald green.
The roar was deafening. It was louder than a jet engine. For a moment, the border didn't exist. There was no Kashmir, no Kargil, no coup. There was only Rahul and Anjali from Kuch Kuch Hota Hai.
"I heard the General Sahib likes fast cricket," SRK charmed the mic, looking up at my box. "So we brought some fast music."
The stage erupted.
First, Hadiqa Kiani brought the pop energy with Boohey Barian. Then, the legendary Abida Parveen silenced the soul with Chaap Tilak. Finally, Rahat Fateh Ali Khan—the boy I had spotted at the shrine—took the high notes, bridging the gap between Qawwali and the modern beat.
Beside me, General Aziz was stunned. "Sir... the crowd is going mad. I have never seen them cheer for Indians like this."
"They aren't cheering for Indians, Aziz," I sipped my tea. "They are cheering for entertainment. We just gave them bread and circuses."
The First Innings: The Blitz
The match began. Pakistan batted first.
It was chaotic. It was frantic. It was glorious.
Without the safety net of 50 overs, Shahid Afridi went berserk. He smashed three sixes in the first two overs. The crowd, used to the slow build-up of Test matches, lost their minds.
By the time the 20 overs were done, Pakistan had posted 130/7.
"130?" The PCB Chairman looked worried. "Sir, in ODIs, 130 is a losing score. The public will be disappointed."
"Chairman," I pointed to the scoreboard. "In a Test match, 130 takes all day. Here, they saw it in 90 minutes. Look at their faces. They think they just saw a mountain being built."
The Interval
During the break, SRK took the field again. He walked with that easy, dimpled confidence.
"130 is a good score," SRK told the presenter, Rameez Raja. He turned to the crowd, a mischievous glint in his eyes.
"But... Picture abhi baaki hai, mere dost (The movie is not over yet, my friend)."
He pointed to the Indian dressing room. "You have the runs. But we have the God. Wait for Tendulkar."
A hush fell over Lahore. They knew.
The Chase
Sachin Tendulkar and Virender Sehwag walked out.
The first five overs were a massacre. Sehwag didn't care about the format. He treated Shoaib Akhtar like a medium pacer. Slash. Cut. Upper Cut.
India: 50/0 in 5 Overs.
My heart was racing. Inside, Aditya Kaul was screaming, 'Come on Sachin! Hit it!' Outside, General Musharraf sat stone-faced, watching his national team getting destroyed.
The Generals were getting restless. "Sir, this is embarrassing," the Corps Commander Lahore muttered. "If we lose to India at home after all this singing and dancing... the mood will turn."
"Patience," I said, though I was sweating. "The ball is getting old."
The Magic
Over number 10. The score was 80/1. India was cruising. They needed just 51 runs from 60 balls.
Then, Wasim Akram took the ball.
He ran in. He didn't bowl fast. He bowled magic.
The ball started to dip. It started to wobble in the air.
Reverse Swing.
In 2000, nobody had seen reverse swing in a 20-over game. It was supposed to happen after 40 overs. But the intense thrashing had scuffed the ball early.
Whoosh.
Tendulkar drove. The ball tailed in late, missing the bat by a millimeter and crashing into the stumps.
The stadium exploded.
Then came Shoaib Akhtar from the other end. Pure, raw pace mixed with late swing.
Sehwag went for a pull. The ball reversed into his pads. LBW.
The Collapse
The Indian middle order panicked. They weren't used to this pressure. Every dot ball felt like a crime. The required run rate climbed.
10 runs needed off the last over. Wasim Akram to bowl.
Aditya Kaul held his breath. Don't do it, Wasim. Let them win.
Wasim bowled a yorker. Dot. Wasim bowled a slower ball. Wicket.
Result: Pakistan won by 4 runs.
The Closing Ceremony
The relief in the VIP box was palpable. The Generals were high-fiving. The honor of the Army was saved.
Down on the field, the atmosphere was different. There was no riot. There was no anger.
SRK stood on the podium next to Wasim Akram. The Indian team looked dejected, but the crowd was chanting "Sachin! Sachin!" out of respect.
SRK took the microphone. He didn't look defeated. He smiled that billion-dollar smile.
"Well played, neighbors," SRK said, looking at the Pakistani team. "You gave us a fight. And Wasim Bhai... that ball to Sachin? That was cheating. Physics doesn't work like that."
The crowd laughed.
"But," SRK raised a finger, his voice dropping to a dramatic whisper. "This was just the trailer. The film continues."
He looked directly into the camera, broadcasting to millions.
"You won the battle of Lahore. But the war moves to my home."
He spread his arms.
"The Pace Battery has rattled us today. But remember... the Delhi pitch is flat. See you in Delhi."
The Aftermath VIP Box
"He is good," General Aziz admitted, clapping. "He managed the defeat with grace."
"He is an actor, Aziz," I said, standing up. "He knows the script."
I looked at the empty stadium as the lights began to fade.
We had pulled it off. The IMF would see a peaceful, fun-loving Pakistan. The Generals would see profit. And the people had forgotten their misery for four hours.
But deep down, Aditya felt a pinch.
Damn it, Sachin. You should have played that yorker better.