Sachin Tendulkar refuses to retire

My script for the drama called life was ready. As Brahma put some final touches to it, making so many corrections along the way, he unveiled his mettle at Sialkot. After being hit on the nose by a searing bouncer, he declined the medications. Batsmen are not measured by the quality to evade. Their greatness lies in the way they respond. He cover drove the next ball he faced for a four en route to a second innings fifty. Some bloody resilience, young kid!

When I was born in this world, naked and wide-eyed with bundles of joy, he had played cricket at sixteen stadiums across four different countries with a match saving hundred to his name. The youngster has started to take on the world. I started to crawl; learnt to speak the words of ‘Amma’, ‘Appa’; but still cried to show my intentions. He scored two peerless centuries at Australia – the youngest to do so. That’s when the venerable John Woodcock announced “Gentlemen, he is the best batsman I have seen in my life. And unlike most of you, I have seen Bradman.” The child prodigy has arrived in style!

I had started to count. 1…2…3… My teacher would ask “What’s four minus two?” I would scratch my head while stretching my fingers to count. That’s when Calcutta ended a World Cup semi-final prematurely. Stands on fire, Kambli with tears. I would write ‘strom’ and my teacher would rewrite it as ‘storm’ in red. “Straight down the ground, wonderful shot, all the way for six. What a player,” screeched Tony Greig during that epic sandstorm innings.

When God wants someone to be with him, he takes him. That’s the definition of death for me in those days. The real meaning, the emotional effect on people was beyond me. He flew from England for his father’s funeral. He went back, on his mother’s advice, to resurrect floundering Indians. He scored an admirable century against Kenya. When he looked up with tears in his eyes, feeling isolated in this whole world, carrying a heart heavier than him, he would have seen his dad sitting with God with a proud smile on his face. “Well played son!” the clouds echoed.

We played with bricks as stumps, on rooftops with plastic balls, makeshift bats and everything we found we turned into a cricket gear. He tore apart Shoaib Akhtar in one over. A six went onto define a World Cup. The final came. The streets were deserted. Prayers were chanted. India gave away too many. Our only hope seemed to be him. When he got out in the first over, realistic chances went with it. The rain threatened to intervene. Amruthavarshini, the raga that supposedly brings rain, was sung. Yet, sun shone at Bullring after intermittent rain. The loss left us shattered.

His form briefly dipped before the masterly 241 announced his comeback. As I approached my teens, his body started to show wear and tear. Tennis elbow became famous overnight. Experts started to write him off. “Endulkar” became the national headline when he was booed by a section of his home ground. After the disastrous 07 WC, effigies were burnt. He reportedly spent the night after the crushing loss in a room alone without eating anything.

Then the dark knight started to rise!

For a man known to make hundred at will, the three figure mark suddenly became elusive. Simon Tauffel made wrong decisions, Kamran Akmal dived to take a catch, he felt fidgety, and it seemed whole world was against him. His son gave him the best advice – hit a six on 94. The day before my life’s biggest exams was to begin, he scored his first ODI century in Australia. The elephant whom none wanted to talk about had his final say on the biggest day.

Mumbai terror attack shook the world. My university exams were postponed due to rain. When I came out of the exam hall, Sachin had made a hundred in a fourth innings that helped India win the test match. I thought more about him than about writing answers. I don’t remember what exam I wrote that day. This man started to write his own script.

My mom asked whether I was flying. That’s when he became the first man on planet to reach 200. The superman! I bunked college whenever India had a match in ’11 WC. This time also I cried after the finals, but those were happy tears. Then came the slump. His retirement plans were talked about. Hundreds voiced thousands of opinions. ODI retirement was announced. It seemed nearer. The IPL trophy, CLT20 went into his trophy cabinet. When the retirement news broke out, I was hopelessly shattered. After 24 years, he finally decided to recede into sunset.

Now, a day had passed. The feeling is yet to really sink in. After 24 years of being part of my life, my heart refuses to accept the fact he won’t be there. As I contemplate greater questions of my life -to study or to continue with the job, to follow passion or accept reality, to choose heart or mind – the warrior made the toughest decision of his.

Life will move on. Cricket has moved on. I will also move with my life. It’s time to make peace with our heart. But the Tendulkar in me refuses to retire!