THE ASIAN INDEPENDENT UK
Bal Ram Sampla
Geopolitics
When Congress spokesperson Shama Mohamed questioned whether cricketer Sarfaraz Khan was dropped “because of his surname,” she sparked a national controversy. Her implication was clear: Muslim players face discrimination in Indian cricket. But her selective outrage reveals something troubling about Indian politics—some injustices are convenient to highlight, while others are buried in silence.
The Numbers Don’t Lie
Let’s look at the facts. In 85 years of Indian Test cricket, only four out of 289 male cricketers have been Dalits. Four. That’s barely 1.4% representation for a community that makes up nearly 17% of India’s population.
These aren’t opinions. These are numbers that scream injustice.
The Deafening Silence
So where is Shama Mohamed’s outrage over this? Where are the tweets? Where are the press conferences? Where is the Congress party demanding answers?
The silence is deafening.
When Union Minister Ramdas Athawale demanded 25% reservation for Dalits in cricket back in 2017, his proposal was quickly shelved. There was no political momentum. No hashtags. No primetime debates. The issue died quietly, as it always does.
Ramdas Athawale’s story is telling. After India’s crushing defeat to Pakistan in the 2017 Champions Trophy final.
He pointed to South Africa, where the national team must have six players of colour, including at least two Black Africans, to address their apartheid history. It was a concrete model. A working example. A solution that acknowledged historical injustice.
But what happened? His proposal was dismissed, ridiculed, and shelved almost immediately.
Why? Because suggesting quotas in cricket touched India’s most sacred cow—merit. The same people who defend reservations in education and jobs suddenly became fierce believers in “pure merit” when it came to cricket. The BCCI ignored him. Politicians stayed quiet. The media moved on.
Compare this to the Sarfaraz Khan controversy. One social media post by a Congress spokesperson created days of headlines, political statements, and national debate. Athawale’s demand—backed by 85 years of data showing systematic exclusion—barely lasted a news cycle.
But when a Muslim cricketer doesn’t make the squad—despite the selectors citing injury concerns—suddenly it becomes a national issue about religious discrimination.
Why the Selective Tears?
This isn’t about concern for the marginalized. If it were, every politician crying about Sarfaraz Khan would be shouting louder about Dalit representation. After all, four Dalit Test cricketers in 85 years is a far greater scandal than the occasional selection debate.
The answer is uncomfortable but obvious: vote bank politics.
Muslims are a visible, organized voting bloc in many constituencies. They vote, they matter electorally, and politicians know it. Raising Muslim issues brings political dividends—media attention, community support, and electoral gains.
Dalits, despite their numbers, have historically been fragmented, less politically organized in certain contexts, and frankly, seen as a “settled” issue by parties that take their votes for granted. There’s less immediate political profit in championing their cause in cricket, even though the injustice is far more severe.
Cricket Reflects Our Society
Cricket didn’t become an elite, upper-caste sport by accident. It grew from British clubs, maharaja patronage, and expensive public schools. Even today, becoming a cricketer requires resources—coaching, equipment, time away from earning a livelihood, connections, and access to networks.
For a Dalit child from a poor family, cricket remains a distant dream. There are no academies in their neighbourhoods, no sponsors waiting to discover them, no safety net if they fail. The system wasn’t built for them, and it still isn’t.
This is structural discrimination—invisible, deeply rooted, and largely ignored by those who claim to fight for social justice.
The Hypocrisy Hurts
When politicians cry discrimination only when it suits their electoral calculations, they don’t fight injustice—they exploit it.
Real commitment to equality means raising uncomfortable issues even when there’s no political gain. It means speaking for those who don’t form convenient vote banks. It means consistency, not convenience.
If Shama Mohamed truly cared about representation and fairness in cricket, she would be talking about Vinod Kambli’s lonely struggles, about why we can count Dalit Test cricketers on one hand, about why the system remains closed to the most oppressed communities in our country.
But she isn’t. And that silence tells us everything.
The Question We Must Ask
Why is one kind of discrimination visible while another is invisible? Why does one spark outrage while the other earns a shrug? Why are some tears real and others crocodile?
Cricket should be about merit, skill, and performance. But if we’re going to have a conversation about representation and fairness, let’s have an honest one. Let’s talk about all the missing faces, not just the ones that win elections.
Until then, the crocodile tears will keep flowing—loud, dramatic, and ultimately, hollow.
References
1.https://kashmirtimes.com/opinion/comment-articles/diversity-conundrum-in-indian-cricket
2.https://www.roundtableindia.co.in/castes-of-cricket-in-india/?utm
3.https://castefreeindia.com/casteism-in-cricket-unveiling-discrimination-in-indias-favorite-sport/?utm
4.https://www.reddit.com/r/Cricket/comments/wn9jyd/out_of_more_than_500_players_who_have_represented/?utm
5.https://www.theweek.in/news/sports/2025/10/22/is-sarfaraz-khan-not-selected-congress-leader-shama-mohamed-gives-religious-twist-to-india-a-selection-row.html
