January 24, 2001Chief Executive's Secretariat, Islamabad11:20 Hours
Musharraf convened a tight meeting—security chiefs, SPL organizers, selected ministers, and a small group of operators who understood that "public order" is not maintained by speeches.
He listened to the options without interrupting.
Option one: intensify local security, proceed with matches, show defiance.Option two: suspend the SPL, regroup, accept a public perception hit.Option three: relocate temporarily, preserve the league, deny the spoilers a stage.
Mahmood argued for defiance. Another officer argued for suspension. The SPL commissioner looked like a man being asked to gamble with other people's lives.
Musharraf waited until the room had exhausted its instincts, then spoke with the calm of a man who had already made up his mind.
"We move the SPL matches to Bangladesh," he said.
Silence—because it was unexpected, and because it sounded like retreat until you understood the logic.
"This is not surrender," Musharraf continued. "This is denial of target."
A minister protested. "Sir, the optics—"
Musharraf cut him off with a glance.
"The optics of burned stadiums are worse," he said. "The optics of injured players are worse. The optics of a stampeded crowd are catastrophic."
He leaned forward slightly, voice lowering.
"Our enemies are not trying to defeat us on the field," Musharraf said. "They are trying to defeat us on the screen. They want one perfect image: panic, fire, blood, and a narrative that says peace is impossible."
He tapped the table once.
"I will not give them that image."
Mahmood's face hardened. "Bangladesh will require rapid coordination. Venue security. Broadcast logistics. Teams' movement."
"Do it," Musharraf said. "Call it a temporary 'regional solidarity phase.' Frame it as the SPL becoming truly subcontinental—Pakistan, India, Bangladesh—all stakeholders."
He looked around the table, ensuring everyone understood the deeper move.
"And while the matches are out of their reach," Musharraf added, "we clean the network here."
No elaborate threats. No chest-thumping.
Just procedure.
"Tourist Police concept—accelerate training," he said. "Counter-sabotage units—quiet deployment. Intelligence—map the funding, not the slogans. We don't arrest noise. We identify conduits."
He paused, then delivered the sentence that made the room colder.
"These men are not driven by faith," Musharraf said. "They're driven by payment. Faith is just the costume."
The Announcement
By evening, the official line was released with disciplined language: safety, regional cooperation, continuity of sport, refusal to allow violence to interrupt progress.
But inside the system, everyone understood the truth:
Pakistan had just entered the part of the operation where the enemies of peace stop arguing and start striking.
And Musharraf had answered with something they did not expect:
He removed the stage.
The league would continue—just not where their matches could be turned into funerals.
That night, as Islamabad's lights remained steady and the public tried to make sense of the headlines, Musharraf stood alone for a moment with a map of the region spread out before him.
Cricket had been the bridge.
Heritage had become the anchor.
Now security was the price of keeping either alive.
He traced a line from Lahore to Dhaka with his finger, then let his hand rest near the border region again—where Kartarpur still waited, and where the next strike would not be against a building.
It would be against an idea.