Toothpaste isnt over till we squeeze out every bit of it. The remote shall work till the last beating it got, did not make it work. We are in a country, obsessed with non-retirement. We have grown up to only see the same politicians’ hair grow white. Certainly, retirement seems to not be fitting in our dear subcontinent. Certainly not fitting, if it is of a person who plays the sport, which we enjoy as a religion and one who the whole nation idolizes as an icon, as a sportsperson, as God. The fact that the roles he is idolized for doesnt end here, makes him rise above all. I am not very dear to statistics to remember his records. History isnt good too, to remember which of his performances stand out. But I do remember, when he broke the test record of Sunil Gavaskar for most centuries. That knock, he says, he dedicates to his father. That day, the nation idolized a son. The day when India won the world cup and his two children were on his side, maybe not that day obviously, but someday later the nation idolized a proud father. The day he gave his farewell speech, particular of not missing anyone, the nation idolized a true human being. Irony is that we still called him god.

I am not any cricket expert to comment on how well Sachin used to play, but for one fact that those spontaneous claps or the sudden “Shot!” and “Waah!” were the most prevalent when he batted. And i’m not any cricket expert still. But all i know is that the time since i’ve started following cricket, its been a habit to watch him. Atleast to see him on the scorecard. Then when he walked in with the MRF bat, he gave all of us, kids, a reason to aspire to be a cricketer. And now when i am seventeen, in those gully crickets which i play, i may play the cover drive well and then to my own satisfaction, i am content that it was like his.

Tweets have been pouring in, the newspaper columns do not put an end to his farewell, everybody has been so expressive. This is my first attempt. And, I do not know how to express or justify that why the heart cries joy at his straight drive, more than it does any other cricketing shot from any other cricketing bat. His Majesty. His Magnanimity, such that i have only seen him play ten years and I know how much of a masterclass he is, while my father keeps narrating me incidents of the 90s. And i will never envy him more for any other reason, but only that he was there at the Edens for the Hero Cup match. India vs South Africa. The midas touch of his on the deuce ball helping with Gold for India. And I hear people talk about Sharjah, and remembering his innings by years, by places, by numbers but for me, he brought out the meaning of the game in the ten years that i saw him.

Terror for a bowler, threat for any team, 22 yards’ favourite disciple all move into oblivion.
He came. He saw. He conquered. He retired young. His life between these 22 yards over these 24 years shall forever be etched. Somewhere around those yards, when Indian team be playing, you will try and seek for the number 10, but… in vain. And when you wont find him, you will realize that it wasnt just a cheer, it was joy, it was hope, it was magic.
“Sachiiiin… Sachin”

Sachin Ramesh Tendulkar. Thank you. Thank you.





About Chetan

A twenty year old infant who fears if crows may shit on him or if Bengali aunties' umbrellas may prick him in the eye. He is currently waiting for Mamata Banerjee to leave Kolkata.

Posted on November 20, 2013, in Between Twenty-Two Yards, People and tagged , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink. 2 Comments.

  1. Tears all around, maddening sadness on his retirement. The only good thing is the great articulation and writings which stays for long. This one is of those good ones. Good that I read this. Keep writing hero.


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