Monday, January 28, 2013
The day the music died
On 20 January this year, at close to 8.15 –
8.30 am, Kartik- a good friend of mine, finished the Mumbai Half-Marathon. Three
hours later, the fiancée of another good friend, Darshit, had finished the
full. I was one of the hundreds of thousands of people who acknowledged,
saluted and were inspired by the feat of these extraordinary men and women. I was
there, albeit fleetingly, at some place which seemed close to the finish line,
to cheer the spirit of human beings pushing themselves beyond their limits. To celebrate
the champions and winners, from 15 to 50, who redefined endurance, and to
commemorate the infinite manifestation of that magical phenomenon called Sport.
One couldn’t help but remember those legendary lines that Sunky had spoken, on
what I always believed was my stairway to heaven, regarding the hold that Sport
has over our lives- “When Roger Federer wins, a part of me wins”. Touche. How ironic
then, that a little less than a month ago, the man, the legend, who introduced
me and a whole generation to this parallel universe, had said Toodle-oo.
They say some of the greatest lessons in life
are learnt outside the classroom. I couldn’t agree more. Sometime in the summer
of ’96, I saw Sachin play for the first time- India vs. WI in the Wills World
Cup. I guess it was like being born again- for an era started that evening, and
the boy learned rebirth. In 1998, the desert storm happened. Twice. The boy learned to believe in miracles.
Chennai 1999- Sachin left, leaving the Indian team 16 to get. They couldn’t,
and the boy learned despair. Centurion 2003- the 75-ball 98 that left even
Paksitani fans cheering, the high-schooler learned wizardry. Sydney 2004-
Sachin scored a pain-staking double century while stubbornly refusing to drive,
the soon-to-be college-kid learned perseverance. From 2005-2007, Sachin went 17
innings without a century, before what worshippers refer to as ‘The Second
Coming’, and the undergrad learned faith. Cape Town 2011- Sachin scored a century in one of
the greatest sporting duels, with Dale Steyn bowling like a demon, and the
B-schooler learned the value of experience. Gwalior 2011- 200 not out, the
young adult learned perfection. And Mumbai 2011- World Champions, the
just-convocated manager learned the meaning of dreams coming true.
These are but a sampler of the smorgasbord
that Sachin has left us behind with. One that transcends both nations and
sports. I will never forget how my heart went out to the look of joy turned to
despair on Tatiana Kashirina’s face at the London 2012 Olympics when her
record-breaking lift of 332 kgs was unbelievably bettered by the superhuman efforts
of Zhou Lulu. I will always remember that evening in August 2011 when Man
United battered Arsneal 8-2. It had not been the easiest of times at work, and
that Sunday evening was a reminder that serves me to the day- no matter how low
things may seem, there will always be matches like these that will make
everything else seem insignificant. And whenever I do, I will always have a
diminutive Bombay lad to thank.
You will say, there are still tests to look
forward to. I will agree, but ODIs were what elevated the man from genius to
God. I always maintain that we were born into a generation of Heroes as far as
test Batsmen went and Sachin was the First among Equals (Lara, Ponting, Dravid,
Kallis). Three of the Heroes have already become idols in the pantheon of test
greatness and await the other two as they journey beyond the twilight of their
careers. But ODIs- this was the arena built and owned by Tendulkar. He finished
as the top run-scorer in 2 World-Cups and a close second in the third that
India eventually won. There has to be some kind of law that disallows anyone
from just calling it a day without allowing their worshippers any time to get
used to life without them.
This was not the way it was supposed to
happen. There should have been a farewell series. Against Pakistan, against
England, against Australia, against South Africa. A farewell where nothing
would have mattered except that Tendulkar would bat. For nothing seems to
matter in cricket anymore anyhow. A series that should have gone on for a week,
a month, maybe a year. Where every ball bowled would have been a reminder of
the challenges that life has been throwing at us for the 10-20 years that we’ve
seen Sachin bat. And where every stroke he offered would have served as a sign
to tell us how we’ve overcome most of them and every dismissal a harbinger of
our failures. And most importantly, a series to remind us that Sachin has been
with us through it all. And now we must learn the greatest lesson of them all-
to learn without the teacher. And to somehow explain to those that come after
us, what ‘Sachin kitne par khel raha hai’ was
like. Time to become, as the song that I’ve had on repeat for the better part
of an hour now goes, a generation lost in space.
There will be some stolen days of test
cricket yet. Which will serve as reminders of the idyllic five-day experiences that
have taken me from Patna to Delhi while visiting Roorkee and Calcutta on the
way, that have taken a country from the nineties to the noughties to the 2010s
and that have taken a generation from childhood to adolescence to adulthood. But
they will be at best, like those much-loved ghosts of Hogwarts- a pale
imitation of life, to quote the best of them. I have always believed Harry
Potter to be other great institution that has defined our generation, and that
therefore December 23 2012 was nothing short of the soul-sucking Dementor’s kiss-
there is life yet, but for what.
As the song (somewhat) goes, I can’t remember if I cried, though I felt like the widowed bride…
And something touched me deep inside the day…
The music died.
Sachin Ramesh Tendulkar. Hat-tip.
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