Dubai | Unlike Sharjah, the once spiritual home of cricket in the desert nation where Indo-Pak contests often carried the baggage of geopolitics, the Dubai International Cricket Stadium (DICS) is a different beast altogether — a sprawling, modern piece of architecture pinned to one end of the city, slightly away from the buzz of the central business district.

And yet, on Sunday evening, the stadium and its neighbourhood morphed into a carnival ground. Hours before the 6.30 pm start here, Indian and Pakistani fans made a beeline, soaking in the atmosphere with song, banter and cheer.

For once, cricket felt like unadulterated joy.

"Du rupaiyee ka chewing gum, Surya bhau Singham," shouted a group of fans from Maharashtra, breaking into Bollywood-style slogans.

In the same queue, a few Pakistani supporters couldn't help but grin at the antics, perhaps reminded that cricket can still be playful.

Elsewhere, chants of "Pakistan Zindabad" reverberated through the streets of Sports City, adding their own echo to the afternoon buzz in sultry conditions.

For little Rohan, it was a dream day. He had travelled with his father from Abu Dhabi — an hour and a half in moving traffic — just to catch his first glimpse of India versus Pakistan.

Wearing an India jersey a size too big, the chubby child declared with wide-eyed confidence: "Jasprit Bumrah will get them out."

For brothers Afzal and Aamir, based out of Sharjah, the emotions were more layered.

"Our father used to tell us about Pakistan's dominance in Sharjah when India couldn't win anything," Aamir said, recalling stories of the 1980s and 1990s. The two defeats in the current tournament had stung, but perspective kicked in quickly.

"Obviously it would hurt if we lose again, but tomorrow is Monday and a new week begins with professional responsibilities," Afzal shrugged.

That, perhaps, is the mood of the diaspora in Dubai. Unlike the charged atmospheres of yesteryear, expats living far away from home are less inclined to get pulled into the political undercurrents.

For them, securing a ticket to an India–Pakistan clash is like booking a pass to a festival. It is about the electric atmosphere, the shared laughter, and the thrill of cricket.

They are not bothered whether players shake hands or exchange cold stares. The Indians want to see Abhishek Sharma launch sixes into the stands; the Pakistanis hope Shaheen Shah Afridi will unleash yorkers with surgical precision.

Beyond that, life resumes, bills must be paid, and deadlines must be met.

The question lingers, though. If the fans can separate the game from politics, treating it as a spectacle rather than a battle, is it not time the stakeholders did the same?