September 2, 2000 Chief Executive's Secretariat, Islamabad 14:00 Hours
The phone rang. It was the secure line, but the operator announced a surprise caller.
"Sir, it is Prime Minister Sheikh Hasina from Dhaka."
I raised an eyebrow. The relationship between the Army and the Awami League was historically... icy. For her to call me directly meant something significant was at play.
I picked up the receiver. "Prime Minister. To what do I owe this honor?"
"General," Hasina's voice was polite but firm. "I have seen your league's prospectus. Bangladesh is entering. The Beximco Group has bought the Dhaka franchise."
"We are delighted to welcome the Tigers," I said diplomatically.
"We don't want to just participate, General," she cut to the chase. "My people need a show of strength. We are a young cricketing nation. We need a commander who can fight."
She paused, then dropped the bomb.
"I am personally requesting the services of Shahid Afridi for the Dhaka Dynamites."
The Demand
"Afridi?" I leaned back. "Prime Minister, Afridi is the heart of Karachi. If I send him to Dhaka, my own city will revolt."
"And if you don't," Hasina countered smoothly, "then my opposition will say that Pakistan still treats us like a colony. That you keep the best for yourselves and give us the leftovers."
She played the political card perfectly.
"Send us the Pathan," she urged. "Let him be the bridge. If he fights for Dhaka, the ghost of 1971 fades a little. My people love his aggression. He has the spirit of a Tiger."
I stayed silent for a moment. She was right. Afridi's chaotic energy was exactly what the emotional Bengali crowd craved.
"Done," I said. "I will send him. But he goes not as a mercenary, but as a State Guest."
The Narrative Spin
I hung up and looked at Shaukat Aziz, who was trembling slightly.
"Sir, Karachi will burn," Shaukat whispered. "You just gave away their favorite son."
"No, Shaukat," I stood up, buttoning my jacket. "We are going to spin this."
I walked to the press briefing room.
"Issue a statement," I ordered the Press Secretary.
"The Chief Executive has appointed Shahid Afridi as the 'Peace Ambassador to the East'. He is being loaned to Dhaka as a gesture of supreme goodwill from the people of Pakistan to their brothers in Bangladesh."
"Make it sound like a sacrifice," I instructed. "Make the people of Karachi feel like they are being generous big brothers, not victims."
The King's Arrival September 5, 2000 Zia International Airport, Dhaka
The scene was unprecedented.
When Shahid Afridi stepped off the plane, he wasn't met by a bus. He was met by a convertible jeep draped in the Bangladeshi flag and the Dhaka Dynamites logo.
100,000 people.
The road from the airport to the hotel was a sea of human heads. They were chanting one name, mispronounced with Bengali affection: "Af-ri-di! Boom Boom!"
Women threw flower petals from the rooftops. Men ran alongside the jeep just to touch the tires.
Afridi, standing in the jeep, wearing sunglasses and a garland of marigolds, looked stunned. He waved, performing his signature 'Starman' pose. The roar was deafening.
In Islamabad, I watched the live feed.
"Look at that," I told General Mahmood. "They don't see a Pakistani invader. They see their Gladiator."
The Karachi Revolt September 6, 2000 Karachi, Pakistan
But the "Big Brother" narrative didn't hold in Karachi. The city was furious.
The coffee shops in Clifton and the tea stalls in Lyari were buzzing with anger.
"Musharraf sold our Lala!" "Who will lead us now? Moin Khan? He is good, but he is not a tiger!" "We need revenge!"
I sat in my office, watching the voting numbers for the Karachi Kings. The fans were confused. Their votes were scattered.
Then, the "Draft Market" did something I hadn't predicted.
The Counter-Move
On a popular radio show in Karachi, a caller shouted: "If Dhaka took our Prince, then we should take India's Prince! Who is the most aggressive captain in India? Who fights like a Karachi street fighter?"
The host paused. "Ganguly?"
"Yes! Sourav Ganguly!" the caller screamed. "The Prince of Calcutta! He hates losing. He is arrogant. He is loud. He is basically a Karachi-walla born in Calcutta!"
The idea spread like wildfire. It was the perfect revenge.
Dhaka stole our Pathan? Fine. We will steal the Bengali Icon.
The Vote
I watched the ticker on the screen. The voting for the Karachi Kings' "Icon Player" surged.
SOURAV GANGULY (INDIA) - 85%
The Karachiites weren't voting for Tendulkar (too polite). They weren't voting for Dravid (too slow). They wanted Dada. They wanted the man who took his shirt off at Lord's. They wanted the man who stared down Steve Waugh.
The Result September 10, 2000 The Draft Day
The announcement was made.
DHAKA DYNAMITES Icon Player: SHAHID AFRIDI (Pakistan) KARACHI KINGS Icon Player: SOURAV GANGULY (India)
The irony was delicious. The "Prince of Calcutta" would captain Karachi. The "Pathan from Karachi" would captain Dhaka.
The Phone Call to Ganguly
I had the transcript of the call between the Karachi franchise owner and Ganguly.
"Mr. Ganguly," the owner said. "The people of Karachi have voted for you. They say you have the 'Jigar' (guts) to lead them."
Ganguly, sitting in Kolkata, laughed. "Karachi? They burn effigies of me there."
"Not anymore, Dada," the owner said. "Today, they are burning effigies of the Dhaka team. You are their weapon of revenge against the Bangladeshis."
Ganguly paused. The challenge appealed to his massive ego. Leading a Pakistani team? Commanding the likes of Wasim Akram and Shoaib Akhtar? It was the ultimate power move.
"Okay," Ganguly said. "I will come. But I bat at number three."
The Aftermath Aditya's Office
I turned off the TV.
"Sir," Shaukat Aziz wiped his forehead. "This is madness. A Calcutta Brahmin leading Karachi? A Pashtun leading Dhaka?"
"It is not madness, Shaukat," I smiled, looking at the map where the borders seemed to be blurring under the weight of fan fanaticism.
"It is the Great Shuffle."
I looked at the file for the first match. Karachi vs. Dhaka.
Ganguly vs. Afridi.
"The ratings," I whispered, "are going to break the satellite."