In God We trust...

This was written before Sachin retired. I had every intention of posting it before that day. My PC stubbornly refused to start. It was right after the Kolkata test match. Before the world changed.

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This is one of the most difficult times for you, Sir. This is one of those times when you have to dig deep and pull out a gem. And you did. Against England. You dug deep into that limitless talent pool of yours and pulled out one. It did not satiate many. They’re still calling for your head. It’s evident Sir, your time in the sun is running out.

Many say that cricket is the only life you’ve ever known. Well, cricket without you is a life I’ve never known too. And I don’t want to. I remember running home from school on match days to breathlessly scan the scoreboard. If the wickets column was anything but Zero, and you weren’t on strike I would frantically search the screen for the familiar short statured, wide legged figure at the other end, one hand on the hip and body weight resting on the bat handle. It had such a calming effect. It didn’t matter then if we were 10/1 or 10/3 because you were at the other end. Nothing mattered.

Just like the bowler never mattered to you. You were more concerned about the sight screen. It was just a white background for most batsmen but not for you. You were finicky about it. It used to be followed by the most ungainly, recognised and characteristic set of movements - that adjusting of the guard in the front of the pants. And you were ready. So were we. As the bowler went up in appeal, a billion heartbeats would stop, there would be a billion sharp intakes of breath followed by fervent prayers to various Gods. The umpire shakes his head and a billion would then sigh in relief.

As the bowler went back to the mark, the fervent prayers would resume. A nation would stop as the bowler steams in from the top of his run up. He pitches it just short and you pounce on it quickly. A reassuring thump off the back foot from the iconic MRF blade, that image of the ball searing through the covers, a quick nod of the helmeted head. And living rooms and stadiums would erupt in joy. The bowler charges in again and strays, every so slightly, onto the leg stump and it is followed by the trademark flick, not so much of a shot - just giving the ball direction. And all else is forgotten. The World is Sachin and Sachin is the world.

We all have tried to imitate that nod of the head, that ungainly adjusting of the guard but we could never even come close to playing THAT straight drive or the backfoot punch or the uppercut. Other batsmen could play the cover drive too. But none like you.

You made children complete their homework early, made housewives forget their daily chores. You made the ailing feel healthy and the healthy to call in sick at work. You’ve made the weak strut and the strong tremble. You’ve stopped Bombay, You’ve stopped India why, even Time stood still when you batted.

In those dark days of mediocrity and inconsistency, you were the only hope we could all look up to. In our eyes, you were Superman, the hero we all craved for. You wielded the willow like it was Thor’s hammer. Impregnable in defence, rock-solid yet destructive. The one who would offend and not defend. Yes, you were larger than life and we always expected too much from you and much less from the other ten. Yes, and we expected it every time. You were superhuman, yet a kid with our middle class values. An Aapla manoos. We were the junkies and you were our fix.

Yet, your time in the sun seem to be running out Sir. It’s painfully clear but yes it is. That twinkle in your eye seems to be missing now. You look worried. It worries us too.

It seems that it was not so long ago that every thing was alright. We remember it what it was like. We who have missed flights but not fights for you. We who turned living rooms into stadiums and stadiums into bull rings. We who have seen you spoil equations and destroy reputations. We who have seen you weather storms and invoke sandstorms. And now, we are just as flustered.

Yes, you are 39 now and questions about your future are bound to arise. Yes, the score board makes unhappy reading and you’ve fallen to better deliveries in the past but there still are legions – lots and lots of people who still believe in you and want you to do well. If you wish to retire, let it be your decision only and not because some half wit asked you to. Your time in the sun may be running out, but his never came.

May that day never come Sir, but if a day comes when you decide to call it a day and tuck that bat away; we will retire too. We will follow the odd game, cheer an Indian victory and even gasp when Kohli tries a Tendulkar, but it’ll never be the same. We are a generation that grew up watching you and learning from you. We know what it’ll mean when you would no longer be there. It means that our time in the sun, will be up too.

Sach00!! Sach00!!

This is a post I had written on the day Sachin scored ‘The’ Double..! For reasons even I don’t know, I did not post it. So reader, please imagine you’re reading this the day after Sachin broke the record.. it’ll might make more sense then..!!

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And so finally somebody broke Saeed Anwar’s 13 year old record!! And it had to be Him!

Just a couple of days ago I spoke about how Sachin makes Indians proud and brings the country to a standstill and how he has ruled the hearts of millions. How an entire nation breaks into an applause everytime the little master dances down the track to hit a six. Or how everytime a billion hearts stop beating when he is on 99. Or how everyone, young and old, forget to breathe when Sachin is on song. Or how, all of a sudden, every person in Bombay seems to be in a great mood..! Or smile when people say, ‘Commit all your crimes when Sachin is batting, because even God is busy watching!’ Today, Sachin, did all of that once again.

           

Although I have so much to write about this breathtaking display of batting, I have run out of words! It’s impossible to try and explain Sachin in words..

Take a bow, Master..!! :)

An Open letter to – The Saviour of Saviours…

Disclaimer :- Bloggers are liable to the content they publish and therefore, I will use some easily guessable monikers to save my behind. Besides, I hate to ‘hurt’ public sentiments..!

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To

The Goonda of all Goondas ,

The Führer of Bombay oops, Mumbai,  The King of the Great Warrior Clan- The SS (what an apt acronym!), To the Great Remote Control wielding Tiger, Beholder of our destinies... I prostrate myself before you..!!

                                                                                                                         

I am Ayyappan Pillai. I am a nobody. An Indian by Citizenship, Tamilian by birth and a Maharashtrian by domicile. I hate to disturb your afternoon siesta by writing this letter about a trifling issue. But these Middle-Class values just don’t seem to die.

Not long ago, your Son was talking about how he needed to change the image of violence attached with the SS and how he needed to work in the rural pockets of Maharashtra and gain their trust as well. I heard him extolling the benefits of welfarist politics and about resorting to the SS’s original ‘80% Social Work and  20% Politics’ motto.  Well, he is not the first politician to do a volte-face nor would he be the last, but your Son had briefly won my admiration and a silent acceptance. But now, He seems determined to wrench your political legacy (Of Hatred, Violence and Intimidation) from your nephew.

I can, therefore, understand the ‘Patriotism’ behind your Son’s opposition to the Pakistani players taking part the IPL. And everyone knows your penchant for digging up pitches and the Government also took your threat to poop on the seats seriously. But even I, your most ardent fan, was pleasantly surprised to know that you always were referring to the seats of the movie theatres. What a ruckus it created, Sir! Every newspaper was lauding your parochial politics. We always knew that the Khan was always a loudmouth, and a migrant loudmouth at that. The exercise proved beneficial for the both of you sir, The Khan’s movie became a raging hit and your Party’s sagging fortunes were revived.

I was also pleasantly surprised when you opposed the inclusion of Australian Players in the IPL as their countrymen were guilty of beating up the citizens of our country. Well, that sounded a bit rich coming from you Sir, as you have beaten more of our Countrymen than the Aussies ever will..! Besides, an IPL without the Pakistanis, The Australians, The Bhaiyyas, Muslims and the Madrasis would no longer be the (I)PL, perhaps you should rename it as well..!!

You claim to speak for the Marathis and the Maharashtrians but you seem to have targeted the most prominent and loved Marathis. Would you allow Sachin to play in Bombay, because Sachin is also guilty of being an Indian. And Sachin has made the Marathis and more so The Indians, more proud that you can ever!! He too, is guilty of bringing Bombay to a standstill by smashing the Aussies but the difference was that Bombay was always too thrilled to stop – And watch Sachin bat..!

At a time, when the whole world is moving forward at a dizzying pace, Sir, you with your parochial politics, are doing no good for the people of Maharashtra. Rather than scaring away the investor or bullying them with frivolous demands like Marathi signboards, we should find ways to woo them. Look at Mr. Modi, once he too indulged in exploiting people’s fear but soon he realised that it serves only a limited purpose. Setting up the odd Vada-Pav stall would do no good for the Marathi Manoos or to the state’s economy. It’s high time you realise that Bombay is in Maharashtra and not otherwise..!!

- Ek Maharastrian Manoos