When the heart bled, eyes wept

Guest Post by Himanshu Dubey

c Sammy b Deonaraine             74(118)

So, this is where it all ends. Like all the good things do.

Image Source: Google Images

He will remain the most loved, most revered and definitely the most humble sportsman.

My passion for cricket has already seen a remarkable dip in intensity and it is only a few hours since He took the final walk back to the dressing room, waving his bat, acknowledging the vociferous crowd. 

187th player to have worn the Indian whites, He was hope for the millions, He was self belief to even more, and He was a confidant in crisis, a maverick in dominance for me.

"India is Sachin, Sachin is India," I overheard my cousin exclaiming to one of his friends who had come over to watch a game against Pakistan one afternoon in some early year of 90s. I was still attending Kindergarten then, busy filling up those cursive writing books with a sharp pointed pencil.

I had seen my cousin, coincidently he was Sachin too but only had the surname same as mine, play this strangely seeming game played with bat and ball. I did not know who Sachin Tendulkar was, and cricket to me was only an insect I had seen in one of my books.

It was only in 1996 when I actually began to follow cricket, the sport. Or no, I began to follow Sachin and just the way a music lover heard Mohammed Rafi or a movie buff went to see Waheeda Rehman on the celluloid, my Sachin-love often directed me to several cricket grounds across the country, but mostly it led me in front of my television set.

India's second wicket fell, and the crowd in the stands erupted, as if Diwali had come unannounced, no matter where he went out to bat, in or outside India. Team India had always spun around him, he was instrumental in victories, emotional in drenching losses. 

And such rippling was his presence that it merely could not have been contained only to a cricket stadium. The winds carried the fragrance of his talent and humane gestures to our TV rooms, from their to our Pooja ghar, where countless times we had prayed for that slightest portion of his bat to be behind the crease during run-out/stumping umpire reviews. The hands would go cold, feet numb, heartbeat terribly on the upper side. His survival meant that we will remain breathing for a little longer, his departure would be the saddest and the most unfortunate thing that happened that day.  

Many of my generation grew up worshipping him, longing to be like him, desiring to have a similar kind of national flag on the helmet as he had. He provided us with a purpose in life, redrawing the periphery of what was possible and quietly smudged the line that blocked many of us in our personal quest of excellence.

We all understand and have a fair idea of what are we going to miss from now on. But spare a thought for the super human, who won't take the field again, won't get to hear the chants of Sa-chin, Sa-chin again, no more replays, no deafening noise that welcomed him when he entered or the death silence when he left the cricket ground. 

Tendulkar will always be in our hearts, minds, memories, on graffiti walls, notebooks, in our DNA, in our stories to our children, to our children’s' children, in our moments of success and failure.

And isn't it why he was born to teach the mankind, nothing else matters but your grit, defiance, valour, ability to sacrifice and take the pain.

Once again, when every wish is thanked, when every ritual is performed, He walks back to the soil, smears it on his forehead, kisses it, with the promise that he will come back again in a different shape, in a different attire, but with the same determined eyes, same humble shyness to force India dream again and chant his name, a bit more louder than before.

Hasn't He become the melody of our national anthem. You hear it, you are proud of it, you stand up and immovably begin to live with it

Let there be not a full-stop for this celestial being.

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On the retirement of Sachin, I invited Himanshu Dubey, one of the craziest SRT fans that I have known, to write a guest entry for my blog. Although his exams are on at this moment, he happily accepted the request I made a couple of days back and I was surprised by his mail in my inbox this evening. I hope you enjoyed reading the article. Do share your views in the comments section below for Himanshu to respond to.

Lastly, thank you so much Himanshu bhaiya for the amazing write-up! :)

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About Himanshu Dubey

Himanshu Dubey, 24, is a Journalism Graduate presently pursuing his MBA. He is an avid cricket writer and political follower, is seduced by cricket and mountains and is a wannabe Member of Parliament and proud Indian. He has previously worked with ESPN India and The Times of India. He lives in New Delhi.

Himanshu can be reached on Twitter: @himaanshu_dubey