March 10, 2000 GHQ, Rawalpindi 10:00 Hours
The conference room smelled of expensive polish and even more expensive greed.
Usually, the Corps Commanders' meeting began with a threat assessment: Indian troop movements, Line of Control violations, or internal security reports.
Today, the first agenda item was a spreadsheet.
"Gentlemen," I said, projecting the numbers onto the screen. "The audit report for the 'Unity Cup'."
The numbers glowed in neon green.
Ticket Sales: $5 Million
TV Rights (DD-PTV Share): $45 Million
Sponsorships (Pepsi, Coke, Hero Honda): $30 Million
Total Net Profit: $80 Million
The room was silent. $80 Million. In three weeks. That was more than the annual budget of the Pakistan Navy.
"Sir," the Corps Commander of Karachi adjusted his glasses, staring at the screen. "Is this... accurate? $45 million just for letting them broadcast?"
"It is the power of the Indian market," I explained calmly. "When Tendulkar plays, a billion people watch. When a billion people watch, Pepsi pays a billion rupees for a 30-second spot. And because we own the rights... we get the check."
The IMF Miracle
"But that is just the cash," I continued, flipping to the next slide. "Here is the real profit."
I displayed a fax from the Ministry of Finance.
SUBJECT: IMF TRANCHE APPROVAL STATUS: APPROVED (UNANIMOUS) CONDITIONS: WAIVED.
"The IMF Board met yesterday in Washington," I told them. "Usually, the US representative raises objections about our nuclear program or defense spending. Yesterday? The US rep praised Pakistan's 'remarkable shift towards cultural liberalization'."
I smirked. "They watched the match, gentlemen. They saw Shah Rukh Khan in Lahore. They saw cheerleaders in sarees. They decided that a country playing T20 cricket is not a threat to world peace. They released the $600 Million loan tranche."
General Aziz leaned back, a look of pure wonder on his face. "So... we played a few night matches, danced a little, and the Americans gave us half a billion dollars?"
"We rebranded, Aziz," I said. "We sold them the 'Soft Image'. And they bought it."
The Franchise Fever
"There is more," General Mahmood (ISI) spoke up. He looked less like a spy chief today and more like an investment banker.
"My office is receiving calls. Strange calls."
"From whom?"
"From Seth Gulzar. From the Dawood Group. Even from the Mansha family. They saw the crowds in Karachi. They are asking... if they can buy a team."
"Buy a team?" The Quartermaster General frowned. "The national team belongs to the Board."
"No," I interjected, planting the seed of the IPL/PSL model a decade early. "They want to franchise. They want to create city-based clubs. 'Karachi Kings'. 'Lahore Lions'. They want to pay us licensing fees to run these teams as private businesses."
I leaned over the table.
"Imagine, gentlemen. Six teams. Owned by the biggest tycoons in Pakistan. They pay the Army Welfare Trust for the stadium leases. They pay the PCB for the players. And every year, we hold a tournament."
I saw the gears turning in their heads. They weren't thinking about "Strategic Depth" anymore. They were thinking about "Real Estate Leases" and "Licensing Fees."
"We could... have the Fauji Foundation sponsor a team," the Quartermaster mused aloud. "The 'Rawalpindi Rockets'?"
"Why not?" I encouraged him. "It is a business. And business is good."
The Internal Victory
As the Generals argued over which city would be more profitable, I sat back and watched them.
It was working.
For fifty years, the Pakistan Army had justified its existence by selling the "India Threat." They needed an enemy to justify their budget.
But I had just shown them that Peace was more profitable than War.
I had shown them that a cricket match against India generated more cash in a week than a war in Kargil cost in a month. I had hooked them on the drug of commercial capitalism.
You fools, Aditya Kaul thought, hiding his triumph behind a sip of water.
You think you are getting rich. You don't realize that every dollar you make from cricket is a nail in the coffin of your militancy. You can't send jihadis to Bombay if you own a cricket franchise that needs Bombay's TV revenue.
I was dismantling their facade, not with tanks, but with a balance sheet. I was turning the "Warriors of Islam" into the "Board of Directors."
And a Board of Directors never votes for war. It's bad for the stock price.