In 2005 at Edgbaston, Brett Lee knelt in the dust, body broken by one of the most bruising Tests of his career. Australia had lost by two runs, the narrowest margin in Ashes history, and the stadium still rang with the aftershock of the final ball. Out of the corner of the frame came Andrew Flintoff, sweat staining his shirt, adrenaline still raging, crouching down to put an arm around Lee's shoulder. The photograph of that moment has long since become myth: two rivals who had spent five days trying to bludgeon each other into submission, bound in a sudden recognition of shared humanity. The Ashes had survived the furnace of Edgbaston, but so too had the spirit of cricket.

Now shift the lens to Dubai, nearly twenty years later, and watch how differently the story was written. India defeated Pakistan by seven wickets. Their captain, Suryakumar Yadav, stroked the winning runs, then walked off the field with his partner. At the rope, Pakistan's players assembled, waiting for the ritual that has outlived empires, wars and partitions: the handshake. They waited. And waited. But the Indian team never came. They congratulated only themselves before vanishing into their dressing room, the door slammed shut behind them, leaving Pakistan's players in the half-light of the ground, their gesture unanswered.

The scene had all the violence of silence. No words were exchanged, no glares thrown. But the deliberate absence said everything. Cricket goes beyond runs scored or wickets taken, its meaning lies in........

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