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By:

Waleed Hussain

4 March 2025 at 2:34:30 pm

Where Handshakes Are Apparently Optional

What a time to be alive in the grand theatre of Indian Premier League drama. In a world plagued by actual problems, the cricket fraternity has decided that the real crisis of our era is Virat Kohli refusing to shake Travis Head’s hand after SRH demolished RCB by 55 runs. Yes, dear reader, the sport that proudly calls itself the “gentleman’s game” is once again clutching its pearls over etiquette while conveniently ignoring that the field itself often resembles a verbal war zone. How utterly...

Where Handshakes Are Apparently Optional

What a time to be alive in the grand theatre of Indian Premier League drama. In a world plagued by actual problems, the cricket fraternity has decided that the real crisis of our era is Virat Kohli refusing to shake Travis Head’s hand after SRH demolished RCB by 55 runs. Yes, dear reader, the sport that proudly calls itself the “gentleman’s game” is once again clutching its pearls over etiquette while conveniently ignoring that the field itself often resembles a verbal war zone. How utterly predictable. Let’s rewind the tape of this earth-shattering incident. During the SRH vs RCB clash on May 22, 2026, in Hyderabad, sparks flew as they usually do when competitive egos collide. Kohli, ever the embodiment of controlled aggression (or so his fans insist), engaged in some classic on-field banter with Head. Gestures were made—Impact Player signals, invitations to bowl, the usual alpha-male posturing that makes T20 cricket so thrilling for viewers and exhausting for sports psychologists. Head, not one to back down, gave as good as he got. Standard fare in a high-stakes league, right? Wrong. Because after RCB folded like a cheap suit, the post-match handshake line became the new Colosseum. Human Decency Head, displaying what some might call basic human decency (or perhaps just following protocol), extended his hand. Kohli? He walked straight past, eyes fixed on the horizon like a man who had just discovered a more interesting Instagram story. Cameras caught it all, naturally. Social media erupted faster than a Rashid Khan googly. “Poor sportsmanship!” cried the purists. “King Kohli doesn’t fake it!” roared the Viratians. Meanwhile, the rest of us watched in bemused horror as a 37-year-old sporting legend treated a post-match ritual like it was optional, depending on his mood and the scoreboard. The sarcasm here writes itself. Cricket loves to lecture the world about “spirit of the game.” We’ve had entire documentaries about walking when you nick one (a quaint custom now as rare as a honest politician). Yet when a player with Kohli’s aura decides the spirit doesn’t include shaking hands with an opponent who dared sledge back, suddenly it’s “passion.” Imagine if this was anyone else—say, a young domestic player or a foreign import without the god-like status. The BCCI would probably issue a statement, sponsors would frown, and the moral brigade would demand a suspension. But for Virat? It’s just another chapter in the Legend of the Unshakable Ego. Let’s be brutally honest in that sarcastic way the situation deserves: Kohli has built a career on intensity. That fire has won India matches, carried RCB through lean years, and turned him into a global icon. Fair play. But intensity without self-awareness becomes petulance. At 37, one might expect a veteran to understand that leaving the fight on the field is what separates great competitors from those still proving something. Head, the Australian opener known for his own swashbuckling style and calm demeanor off the field, extended the olive branch. Kohli swatted it away like a bothersome yorker. The message? “I can dish it, but I won’t shake on it.” Charming. The hypocrisy meter is off the charts. Indian cricket fans, quick to criticize Australian teams for “unsportsmanlike” behavior in past rivalries (remember the 2008 Sydney Test?), are now defending this as “mental disintegration” or “not forgetting the battle.” Australian fans, who once cheered sledging as national sport, are suddenly appalled. Everyone’s a hypocrite when their guy is involved. Travis Head himself seemed unfazed, posting something cryptic on Instagram that fans dissected like ancient runes. Classy response, really—ignoring the noise while the internet burned. Personality Cult This isn’t about one missed handshake. It’s about the cult of personality in modern cricket. Virat Kohli isn’t just a player; he’s a brand, an emotion, a religion for millions. His aggression inspires, but it also excuses. Commentators bend over backward to justify it: “He’s passionate.” “Competitive spirit.” Translation: “Don’t criticize the King.” Meanwhile, young fans learn that if you’re talented and famous enough, basic courtesy is negotiable. What a wonderful lesson for aspiring cricketers. Forget technique; master the art of selective handshakes. Critics will say I’m being harsh. After all, emotions run high in a 55-run thrashing. RCB lost, Kohli scored modestly, and Head’s team won. The banter was mutual. Why villainize one man? Because leadership and legacy demand better. Kohli has spoken eloquently about respect and the values of the game in countless interviews. Seeing him ignore a simple gesture undermines that. It’s not the end of civilization, but it is disappointing from someone who positions himself as an ambassador for Indian cricket. (The writer is a senior journalist based in Mumbai. Views personal.)

Dangerous Departures

Updated: Oct 30, 2024

Dangerous Departures

In yet another shocking incident adding to Mumbai’s infamous tryst with stampedes, chaos erupted at Mumbai’s Bandra Terminus following a weekend stampede that left at least ten persons injured, two critically so. A crowd surged toward the Gorakhpur-bound train with nearly 1,500 people vying for seats in 22 unreserved compartments, leading to the stampede. Several others narrowly avoided tragedy, with some even pushed onto the tracks. This is not a unique episode but rather a recurring theme in Mumbai’s bedevilled crowd management, one that has haunted the city’s public spaces, particularly as festive seasons magnify the crowds.


Mumbai is no stranger to stampedes. A horrifying incident in 2017 at Elphinstone Road Station left 23 people dead and nearly 50 injured. The cause was a familiar one: an overwhelming crowd confined to a narrow footbridge during peak rush hour. The tragedy sparked an outcry, with promises from authorities to upgrade infrastructure and enhance safety protocols. Yet seven years on, crowd-related incidents continue to be a constant danger. Today’s incident reveals a similar lapse—a lack of foresight in managing the thousands who gather on platforms ahead of Diwali, eager to return to family. That the Gorakhpur Express was unreserved and heavily crowded was predictable.


The issue lies beyond simply crowd density; it is emblematic of deeper systemic negligence. The Brihanmumbai Municipal Corporation (BMC), responsible for local public safety, along with the Railways Ministry, bear responsibility for ensuring order at such high-risk hubs. Although the BMC acknowledged the “festive rush,” it appears little was done to pre-empt it. Swift action could have been taken to either disperse the crowd or reroute passengers. Instead, chaos prevailed.


Political reaction has been swift but uninspiring. Aaditya Thackeray, son of Uddhav Thackeray, launched a scathing attack on the Union Railways Minister, Ashwini Vaishnaw, branding the incident a result of the minister’s “incapable” leadership. This hardly addresses the immediate need: a substantive plan to manage crowds and prevent similar incidents.


Mumbai’s transport infrastructure remains sorely outdated. Platforms are undersized, signalling systems frequently falter, and crowd control mechanisms are grossly inadequate. Despite repeated accidents, there has been little investment in comprehensive crowd management systems or the deployment of personnel trained in emergency response. While railway footbridges were widened after the Elphinstone tragedy, Bandra’s incident demonstrates that such incremental changes are insufficient. Mumbai, which sees a swelling populace during festivals, demands a robust strategy to address its vulnerabilities. This should include technology-driven crowd monitoring, clear communication channels to inform passengers of platform conditions, and additional security and medical staff on high-demand days. It is essential that crowd management training for personnel becomes a priority rather than a reaction to tragedies.

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