Do you think it's safe to come out now? It has, after all, been a couple of days. And it seems quiet. Maybe too quiet. Is it over? Hello? World? Are you still there? Is there anything left? How do we tell?

Being a neutral in India in the heady moments before, during and after their team's men's World Cup match against Pakistan evokes empathy with unfortunates like Hiroo Onoda, a second lieutenant in the Imperial Japanese Army during World War 2 who was stationed on the remote Philippine island of Lubang when Japan surrendered in September 1945.

Deep in the jungle with no access to reliable information, Onoda refused to believe his country had given up the fight. It wasn't until March 1974, when he was tracked down by an explorer, Norio Suzuki, that he was persuaded to surrender. Before leaving Japan, Suzuki said he was looking for "Onoda, a panda, and the abominable snowman, in that order".

The idea for this piece - a neutral snagged in the maelstrom of world cricket's grandest occasion - was proposed to an editor six-and-a-half hours before the first ball was bowled at the Premadasa. Was there scope for such an obtuse, off-beat few hundred words? Quoth the editor: "There is, but it'd be better to do it a couple of days later. It's likely to get lost with all the stuff coming in from Colombo."

And here we are, two days after Sunday's mega match, wondering if it's OK to exhale. Considering the way the game was hyped to within a nanometre of its peak hypeability, you would be forgiven for thinking the nuclear codes would be bounced around the dugouts like bits of batting and bowling advice.

It's an unfortunately apt analogy. Pakistan and India have been at war or on the brink of war ominously often, most recently in May last year. The tensions from that unhappy episode remain threateningly taut. So it was clumsy and reckless that too much of the pre-match marketing dwindled to the level of military metaphors. There's enough of the real thing in the real world. Why drag mere cricket into something so serious? Sport and politics can and should never be separated, but war and sport should never meet. If they do, something has gone horribly wrong.

What wasn't about war was weak. Like the Indian television commercial featuring a lone Pakistan supporter encountering four India fans outside a lift. The Pakistan fan warns against belittling cricket's "greatest rivalry". The India fans, led by Abhishek Malhan, who if YouTube is your thing you might know better as Fukra Insaan, respond by scoffing that, "We have to make the greatest rivalry from 7-1 to 8-1" - a reference to India's dominance over Pakistan in the tournament's history.

Pakistan television's take was a scene starring a taxi driver who, when his Australian fare alights abruptly at the end of the trip, says, "You forgot the handshake. It seems you stayed at our neighbours' place, too."

So far, so lame. But with so much money riding on one match, even the best and the brightest of minds will exhaust themselves of viable ideas. Hence smugly unfunny YouTubers and gabby cabbie jokes are served up in lieu of better ideas.

How much money? Revenue of USD250-million for a single Pakistan-India fixture during an ICC tournament is the figure bandied about. Cricbuzz has unpacked the veracity of that assertion in detail, but whatever the true value of the match it's safe to say it's worth more than any other in the global cricket calendar. Accordingly, when Pakistan at first refused to play Sunday's game - in solidarity, their government said, with Bangladesh not being allowed to move their matches out of India because of safety concerns - world cricket's suits, their eyes popping blood vessels as they stared hard at the bottom line, took notice.

"There was even a pre-match show, which tells you Pakistan versus India means a lot," Albie Morkel, a special consultant in South Africa's camp, said on Tuesday. He was referring to rapper Hanumankind's performance before the game. That, too, was not without its politics. Hanumankind - his parents called him Sooraj Cherukat - sang the title track of director Aditya Dhar's December 2025 action thriller Dhurandhar. The film is banned in Pakistan because of what is seen as a narrative negative towards the country.

Morkel wouldn't have known that. But he did know "added pressure comes with games like that. These teams really want to get one over each other. India have played some very good T20 cricket over the last year or two. Pakistan are trying to find a way to do it. The pressure [when they play each other] is massive; more than in a normal World Cup game."

For Lalchand Rajput, the United Arab Emirates coach who took India to triumph in what was then called the World T20 in South Africa in 2007, when they beat Pakistan in the final, Pakistan versus India was "just like Ashes in Asian countries". He added the obvious, that "India played fantastic cricket in all departments".

Because, despite everything the modern game has become, it isn't all about money. It's also about cricket, which seems an odd point to have to make. And no less necessary for that, what with the warmongers, nationalists and capitalists - often they're three people wrapped in one - determined to bend cricket to do their bidding. Cricket is a game? Who knew?

Consequently you would be forgiven for thinking the Pakistan versus India spectacle was over the instant the countdown clocks on a television near you - some of which had been ticking down, second by second, amid headlines that spoke of "battle", for 48 hours - reached 00:00:00.

If the hype was a balloon, the match itself was the pin that popped it. As a contest, it was flaccid. Ishan Kishan's 40-ball 77 powered India's 175/7, which was enough to win by 61 runs. Rivalry? What rivalry?

Most of the people in a restaurant in Delhi's vibrant Connaught Place, where the match was projected onto big screens, didn't bother watching. Some older men kept a rheumy eye on proceedings, but the large table celebrating a 25th birthday couldn't have cared less. Pakistan versus India? Meh. Who cares when we have cake to eat.

So, yes, dear fellow neutrals, it is safe to come out now. The world is still here. Not a lot has changed. What was the fuss about? Maybe about no more nor less than exactly that: fuss. And money. Cricket? Not so much.