Sachin retired, leaving an entire nation speechless with his emotional speech. While I watched the match on Saturday morning, I was having mixed feelings, but mostly there was a sense of helplessness. I am not a huge fan of Sachin. By the time I started watching cricket, Sachin was already a “little genius” and when cricket started to feel a bit more than just a sport for me, I have had my own heroes I grew to admire. I started watching cricket from the 1996 World Cup match between India and Pakistan in Bangalore. I got to admit, I had little idea what cricket was at that point, just that the entire nation was praying that we win the match and the world cup. I can still remember the packed living room with all my cousins screaming and cheering, while I sat amidst all the chaos wondering what in the world was going on. And I sat there, amidst the cheers, to watch Ajay Jadeja whip Waqar Younis and suddenly the entire street erupted with joy. I could feel the adrenaline in the room getting to me. I watched, fascinated, both the screen and the drama off the screen. And I continued to watch, over the next few days, the disappointment of not winning the world cup and the subsequent talk over the next few days that left the nation in despair that we did not win. But, I was not affected. Yes, we did not win, no big deal, for me, anyway. But then, I was pulled into that world of cricket, searching for something, anything that I could connect to.
Sport is supposed to mean something beyond just wins and losses. Sport is supposed to be an inspiration. It is supposed to teach me the sweetness of success, the pride in playing for the country, the pride in representing India. It is supposed to evoke in me, the pride of being an Indian. It is supposed to make me yearn, pray, curse, cry, laugh, or so I thought. It is supposed to bring in unity, a sense of purpose. I watched sports, but cricket was what I could connect to. Cricket helped me cope up with my personal struggles. It helped me hope, for a better tomorrow.
Eventually walked in Sourav and Rahul, the two stalwarts who held my heart for a long time, before Rahul eclipsed everyone else. He was a man I could connect to. And he, with his laborious struggle through the overs, spoke with me, that with enough perseverance, life shall reap rewards. Sourav lead the team to glory, but, Indian team was packed with wolves, hungry for success and the strength of those wolves was the strength of Sourav, the leader of the wolf pack. He made my team, as I fondly call the Indian Cricket team. He made me laugh, cry, curse, yearn and above all, pushed me to despair before MSD pulled me out of it. Yes, the world cup victory. Under Sourav, the 2003 World Cup made me cry for a week. The 2007 World Cup under Rahul pushed me under a mountain. MSD took that pain away from me. I cannot thank him enough for that. All this time, since my watching cricket, Sachin did not exist for me in so much as Rahul did. I loved to watch him play, I loved him as being part of Indian Cricket Team, I cheered him as much as I cheered anyone in my team. But, he did not stand in the same bracket as Rahul, for me. Whomever I spoke to, said that, he is the greatest batsman to have walked the game of Cricket barring Sri Don. But, I could not connect with him as I connected with Rahul. Perhaps, his God persona was too much of a challenge to understand, perhaps his composure too strong to breech, perhaps his mastery too much to decipher for my limited knowledge of the game. So, Sachin is a miracle, agreed, but if someone wants me to admit that he is the greatest Indian Cricketer, I would fumble. It feels a gross injustice to say that to myself, let alone the world. He is great, but for me, he is not Rahul. I cannot seem to explain beyond that. There is no rationale behind it.
As I came up of age, I grew up to the laurels of Sourav, Sachin, Rahul, Laxman, Anil. But slowly and steadily everyone ceased existing beyond Rahul for me. And when Anil, Sourav retired, sure, I was sad and walked around with heavy heart for a day or two. Rahul is still there to help me with this phase. Then he retired and cricket as I knew, lost its charm for me. I had no one else to connect to anymore. There is no gentleman who struggles to compose himself and talk to me about not giving up. There is no serenity amidst the chaotic run building anymore. I watched the game, faithfully though. I still have the young hearts budding out there, to look up to, sometimes, to frown upon and sometimes to let the raw emotion sink in, filling me with adrenaline, pushing me to believe that anything under the sun is at an arm’s length, if I put my mind to it. But I could no longer connect to it any more. I watched, for the sake of the old flame that refuses to blow out. I watched us triumph in emphatic fashion, I watched the youngsters pounding their chest caveman style and I watched, with joy and pride, the twenty something kids, making India a formidable batting challenge to overcome.
Amidst all this, like a black cover hovering, was Sachin’s retirement, ready to storm a perfectly good day. I paid no attention to it. I did not join the frenzied argument as to when he should retire. I did not allow myself to pause and think of the magnanimity of it. Yet, somewhere, in the corner of my mind, there was a story building up. The fairy tale ending of the knight, I called it. Long before the actual series, I was hoping at least one of the Indian cricketers I grew up to, would give me a fairy tale. I thought Anil might run down the opponent and in ten overs we will win the match, hoping he would take a wicket every over. I thought Sourav would smash the ball all around the globe. I thought Rahul will hit a ton in every match to win the series for us. I thought Sachin will take the spleen of West Indies bowling with his once famed aggression and score a ton to please one and all. Having seen enough of life (and retirements of others), I should have realized that fairy tales do not exist. Yet, that is me being human. And then came the series of the master blaster retirement. He scored, played fabulous cricket, but it is not an innings filled with aggression. But he did not disappoint me. I should say, I have become used to non-fairytale endings. And then came the day of the little master’s retirement. I switched on the TV, watched the boneless West Indies drop like a lump of flesh. And it hit me, this is the last time I can connect to my childhood, through cricket. Sachin retired. And I surprised myself that I had tears in my eyes when the last wicket fell. I had a lump in my heart. I had a dead weight that I could not get off me. I watched the sequence of events unfold in front of my eyes. I thought of my friends who are his diehard fans and thought of what they were going through. I saw my husband crying, sitting next to me. I had no comfort to offer. I went through the same emotions not so long ago. I am reliving them again, the sense of loss, the loss of sanity. For one moment, everything ceased existing. I was surprised that I felt all that. I have refused to watch Rahul Dravid in his last series. I refused to listen to Rahul Dravid farewell speech. I just could not bring myself to it. The only reason I watched Sachin’s 200th test was because I believed I could handle the emotion. I knew I will feel something, but I never suspected how strong a feeling it would be. In hindsight though, I should not have been surprised. He has been part of Indian Cricket team that meant so much to me beyond just individual names. And Sachin held a string to my heart, being admired by so many who reside in my heart. And when all those are weeping a river, how could I just sit there and not feel the affect?
People will talk for years about his retirement speech. I will remember it, for its simplicity though. We bicker every day for meaningless things, particularly to people who are most important to us. We talk rubbish and let the ripples affect the limited peace we have in life. Family, friends, support system, all are important to succeed, yet every day, we work very hard to push those away, through words and actions. And he, embraced all that and stood in front of me, as a connoisseur of good upbringing. He stood there, patient, kind, delivering the most composed emotional speech I will ever hear, with gratitude ringing through every syllable of it, patiently pointing out that without all the support he got, he might not have been what he is and reminding me that, despite struggles and niggles, the joy of sharing is more important than standing alone on the peak of the mountain. And he touched my heart with his humility. This God like persona showed a human side, showed that he is not God, but a mere human, who walked the game, dreamt about it, loved it with every breath, put the game above everything and served it with all his heart. He showed, to me, that he toiled as hard as Rahul, if not more, to balance out the expectations, to stay human despite what everyone believes and lean on a shoulder when going gets tough. And for that, I thank him. I thank him, for being the person he is more than the cricketer he was. And I thank him for the lesson in humility and I wish, world would learn from it.
Thank you Sachin, you made me feel proud to be an Indian. When we are leaving the shores and crossing oceans to live a life and find peace, freedom and luxury, your speech reverberated a very Indian emotion in me, that there are still few lucky ones out there who are blessed to have someone to love and be loved and in the end, it is that what matters. And it is alright to be held a prisoner of love than be left a prisoner of freedom.
“He told me to be a good human being and I tried to be and I will continue to be”, your words, will echo in me and hopefully, I can be a good human too, not just to strangers, but to people who matter. Often, kindness is a luxury less found among familiar bonds! Thank you and Good luck!
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