Dussera, that radiant festival of right action, arrives each year with the crackle of burning effigies and the age-old lesson blazing brighter than any firework: good must triumph over evil, and our actions… not just our intentions… reveal our true values. It is a time for clarity, for moral courage, and, one would hope, for consistency. Yet, as India recently demonstrated on the cricket field, sometimes our moral messaging becomes as tangled as Ravana’s many heads.

Not long ago, the nation was shaken by the tragic attack on innocent Indian tourists in Pahalgam. Outrage and sorrow swept the land. “This is not the time for pleasantries or engagement with those linked to such horrors,” thundered the collective conscience. Here, Dussera’s spirit beckoned us to stand firm, to act decisively, and to send a message that would echo around the globe.

The Asia Cup cricket tournament, with India and Pakistan set to clash on the field, presented a golden opportunity to do just that. At the outset, we should have opted out of the tournament because we were bound to play Pakistan in two if not three matches. That would have been the perfect thing to do… a clear, dignified message, and an unambiguous stand. After all, India has shown such courage before. Cast your mind back to 1974… the Davis Cup, tennis’s crowning prize, was within our grasp. The legendary Amritraj brothers were in their prime, ready to bring home glory. But when the final matched us against South Africa, then a nation steeped in the injustice of apartheid, India took a stand. Rather than chase the trophy at the price of principle, we forfeited the match and South Africa were awarded the Davis Cup by default. The world took notice: here was a nation willing to sacrifice sporting glory for the sake of human dignity. Our withdrawal was not an act of weakness, but a powerful assertion of values… a chapter in our history worth recounting with pride.

Instead, with the Asia Cup, we chose to participate. Having done so, we should have kept up the spirit of cricket… or any sport for that matter… and maintained our decorum and prestige in our demeanour and approach to the game, and to our opponents, whoever they may be. That is the real test of values: to uphold them not just in isolation, but in the thick of action, in the glare of the world’s gaze. But somewhere along the way, we messed up big time.

After playing the tournament with skill and tenacity, we drew the moral line not at participation, but at the handshake and the trophy presentation. We would not shake hands with opponents. We would not accept the trophy from anyone of Pakistani origin. Apparently, our sense of sporting rectitude is so refined that it can distinguish between a cover drive and a courteous gesture. The world watched in bemusement as we, having excelled on the field, suddenly transformed from champions to poster children for poor sportsmanship. If sports are meant to teach respect and dignity, and festivals like Dussera are meant to reinforce right conduct, then this was a spectacular double-fault.

Social media and news outlets across the globe buzzed not with admiration for our cricketing prowess, but with disbelief at our muddled messaging. Here was a nation once celebrated for its principled stand against apartheid, now reduced to sulking at the sidelines, looking less like torchbearers of righteousness and more like sore losers at a school sports day. If Dussera teaches us the value of right action, we somehow managed to showcase the triumph of confusion over clarity.

Perhaps we should look back at the example set by the Davis Cup team in 1974. They faced a moral conundrum and resolved it with clarity and courage, choosing principle over personal or national gain. No half-measures, no performative gestures… just a simple, strong message that still commands respect. Would it not have been nobler to make a similar stand for the Asia Cup? If we truly wished to send a message, we should have bowed out entirely. That would have been the Dussera spirit in action… brave, unambiguous, and respected by all.

Instead, our muddled approach… play, but pout… left us looking like the punchline in an epic meant for heroes. Our values, once the stuff of legend, now risk being reduced to a meme: “When you want to boycott, but you also want to play cricket.”

So, as the effigies burn this Dussera, perhaps we can toss in our mixed messages and muddled morals. Let us reclaim the clarity of action and courage of conviction that once made India the envy of the sporting world. After all, even from his burning perch, Ravana might well wonder what became of the nobility of Rama… who, even at the height of battle, showed how to respect an adversary… let alone an opponent in a mere game of cricket.