If not for you, my man...

I still remember it crystal clear. The very same date – last year. My hero walked out onto the ground and stopping at the 22 yard pitch, bent down to touch it. It was his way of thanking the 22 yards that had been his constant companion for 24 years.

I was watching the scene on my laptop along with my roommates, hesitant to cry as it might reveal my tenderness. But sometime later, I got up and walked to the restroom nearby our room and shutting the door, I sat down inside. My mind went blank for some time and I still try to recollect, to this very day, as to what happened to me those 15 minutes inside the restroom.

In a life not completely full of pleasures and joy, there was of course the support of family and friends. But the heart is never satisfied with what it has. And it always keeps searching for a partner to hold onto during times of joy and sorrow. Being dragged out of childhood at a very early age, the search for the partner began quite soon in my case. And at so early an age when romance was too difficult a word to even spell, the heart did manage to find an able partner – a guy born in Mumbai, cricket his profession, who went by the name SACHIN RAMESH TENDULKAR.

The Mumbaikar, along with ALLAH RAKHA RAHMAN who joined him a bit later, have been two of my closest companions ever since I realized that there were things in this world that were out of the control of He-man and Phantom.

There were a lot of days in my childhood when I kept staring around at people crying profusely not knowing why they were doing so. There were a lot of days when I was caught amidst angry retaliations. There were a lot of days when the silence at home deafened me. And during all these periods, if there was anything/anyone that/who kept me going it was only the little master.

I had a lot of friends who would collect toys, Pokemon tazzos, WWE cards and a lot more. I also did collect a few of them. But the most favorite hobby of mine was collecting Sachin snippets from newspapers. Every time he scored a century, the next day in our home could be found at least 4 different newspapers. I knew that every newspaper would report the same event but I experienced a kind of exaltation seeing the praises and appreciation for Sachin over and over again in every newspaper. 

The admiration and the affection slowly grew into a possessiveness so strong that it became equal to a child’s possessiveness of its mother – a child can never stand its mother being shouted at but there is one other thing it totally despises – another person being affectionate to its mother. I hated people who spoke ill of Sachin but I hated more the people who called themselves to be admirers of Sachin. With age, the possessiveness has been healthily pushed aside paving way for beautiful and lengthy conversations with fellow admirers of Sachin but even today, at moments, the ferocious streak of extra-possessive love over Sachin shows its face (to my joy, indeed!).

A few friends of mine, admirers of Sachin, were/are also very good in cricket. They would discuss his square cuts and straight drives and his cricket-textbook-grammatically-correct shots. I was/am very weak with cricketing terminologies and even worse with regard to playing the game. I was included in most of the cricketing teams that would play near our house for the sole reason that I owned a MRF bat. But then I never really cared about it all. Because, unlike for most of them, Sachin is not just my most favorite cricketer or sportsperson. He is a lot more.

I remember the incident when my mom, before the board exams in my tenth grade, stuck a few pictures of various deities above my study table so that they would shower more light for me to shine brighter. And I added a picture with the ones of the deities – Sachin’s – to my mom’s shock. But she is a sensible lady who always gives more preference to my happiness than my beliefs and so let the picture be.

Sachin was/is my equivalent of a God. A religious person gets agitated and infuriated when someone speaks ill of his religion or his God. And I remember incidents of throwing the remote control at the television seeing a news reporter say that Sachin better call it a day instead of trying to score the elusive 100^th hundred and tearing apart a newspaper after reading a report that Sachin should leave way to the youngsters post his tennis-elbow injury. I myself knew that I was being a tad too hyper-emotional at times but then, why lead a life till the wrinkled face and trembling hand come about without loving at least a few people as fully and as sincerely as you can?

Many a day, a lot of my friends would ask me as to why I kept doing all that I did for Sachin and why was I such a crazy fanatic when after all, he did not even know that a guy like me existed. I never had an answer and would simply shout out at them in anger. I did not have an answer even until the 10^th of November that passed.

But that day changed it all.

My brother, as affectionate and as caring as he always is, had sent me a surprise package and as I opened it, I was dumbfounded (I have used this very term – dumbfounded – a bit often and I honestly admit that this post is the first one for which I really typed the word having realized its meaning). Lying inside the package was a brand new hardback copy of ‘Playing it my way’ – Sachin’s autobiography.

I slowly took it out and as I moved my fingers over its glossy cover, tears rolled down. Partly because of my brother’s unconditional love. Partly because of the fact that I had gotten hold of my hero’s account of his life.

But the main reason behind the tears was this – every single instance of my life that had shook me and had made me realize how much a person loved me had only been through Sachin. Be it my best friend (a miniature bat with Sachin’s autograph), be it my brother (Playing it my way) or be it, even my mom (The list is a bit lengthy).

And there lay it. The answer.

Sachin Tendulkar not just gave me hope like he did for the millions. Sachin Tendulkar not just gave me joy like he did for the millions. Sachin Tendulkar gave me a lot more.

He gave me love and more importantly, he gave me my life.

In Sachin’s own words from his farewell speech,

“I want to thank you from the bottom of my heart, and also say that time has flown by rather quickly, but the memories you have left with me will always be with me forever and ever, especially "Sachin, Sachin" which will reverberate in my ears till I stop breathing. Thank you very much.”

P.S.: As for the book – Playing it my way – I find the internet spattered with reviews that call the book a ‘dud’ – one review called it a ‘duck’ from a man who constantly scored centuries – stating that the book offers very less insights about Sachin that that is already known. I would just like to ask this – When you media people make every single happening in the great man’s life a news-report, what do you expect ‘extraordinarily extra and revealing’ to be present?

But then, I honestly know nothing of reviewing books and its better I be quiet. Moreover, it does not really matter for me if the book is not insightful. A religious Hindu would not probably blame Bhagavad Gita for not providing more insights into lord Krishna’s mind/life now, would he?!