After the attack on Siraj, an Indian cricketer, for thanking Allah after winning the T20 World Cup, I was reminded of an experience I had in Edinburgh, Scotland, which I feel compelled to share.
One day, while wandering around Edinburgh, hungry and thirsty, I searched for something appetizing. After scanning several menus outside various restaurants, I finally stumbled upon a shawarma place behind the main building of the University of Edinburgh. Without considering the social or geographical identity of the place, I went inside and ordered a lamb shawarma.
As I waited at the counter, I noticed some orange drinks and asked the cashier how much they cost. He generously told me to take one for free. I wasn’t sure why he offered it for free—maybe because their country was playing a match, or perhaps because I was Asian. Regardless, I appreciated the kind gesture.
The noise of the crowd and a television in the background caught my attention. I saw that a cricket match between India and Pakistan was on. I soon realized that the restaurant was Pakistani and that the crowd was supporting their country. Despite not being fond of cricket due to its commercialization and communalization, I was struck by the scene.
In my childhood, my peers had nicknamed me Jonty Rhodes for my fielding, Sachin for my batting, and Lance Klusener for my bowling action, but I no longer watch matches. Cricket, to me, has lost its charm and is now marred by extremism and politics. Recently, there have been threats against Rohit Sharma’s wife for supporting Palestine and a small child of Virat Kohli for supporting justice in Hathras, demonstrating how cricket has become an obsession to showcase hollow masculinity and nationalism.
Back at the restaurant, my card payment declined thrice, and I began to worry as I didn’t have any cash on me.
The restaurant guy said, “Have it; otherwise, it will get cold.”
I responded, “But what if the card doesn’t work?”
He reassured me, “Don’t worry about it. Have it.”
Hesitantly, I grabbed the shawarma and drink. As I ate, I kept thinking about the payment. I saw that they were serving ‘kadak chai’ for their friends only and craved it since it had been over twelve days since I’d had tea in the UK. I wanted to order it but couldn’t due to the payment issue. The shawarma was too heavy to finish in one sitting, but I felt shy asking them to pack it, so I discreetly packed it myself and slipped it into my pocket.
I kept trying my card, hoping it would work so I could order the tea, but unfortunately, it didn’t. I felt so bad leaving without paying.
The restaurant guy said, “Don’t worry, brother. You can pay later.”
I insisted, “Please try again.”
He repeated, “Don’t worry, brother. You can pay later.”
“Are you sure?” I asked.
“Yes, don’t worry. You can pay later,” he reassured me.
I asked if there was an ATM nearby, and he pointed one out across the road but told me not to bother about it and just pay later. I went to the ATM but couldn’t withdraw any cash. Feeling disheartened, I returned and told him I couldn’t get the money.
Again, he said, “Don’t worry, brother. You can pay later.”
Reluctantly, I took a picture of the restaurant to remember the address and left, feeling burdened by the small debt and his kindness. As I walked aimlessly, I tried every ATM I came across, determined not to carry any borrowed burden. Finally, after paying an extra four pounds in withdrawal fees, I managed to get the cash. I walked another 800 meters back to the restaurant to settle the bill.
When I returned, the restaurant guy smiled and asked, “What happened?”
“I got the cash,” I said happily and paid the bill. Then I ordered a chai, even though it wasn’t on the menu and they typically didn’t serve it. Due to the match and their friends, they had made it specially.
“Desi chai?” he asked.
“Yes,” I replied.
While enjoying the tea, I counted the bills and noticed they hadn’t charged me for the tea and drink, only for the shawarma. Despite their disappointment over their country’s loss in the match and the crowd leaving dejectedly, they had won my heart with their generosity and kindness. Their actions defied the negative portrayals in literature, politics, and media that often depict them as enemies devoid of emotion, affection, and humanity.
I hope these false narratives will break, and humanity will prevail.