Sach an Indian

Many of us grew up hearing the story of Rama, the righteous king who lived his life through dignity, sacrifice and high sense of ideals, protecting what was right, till the end. His kingdom was perfect. We also heard stories in moral science classes about honesty, humility, sacrifice etc. These stories were meant to be imbibed, inculcated, understood and practised.  And then we met the real world, which was anything but. The conflict confused us and our parents too who seemed to have answers for everything, shrugged and asked us to be practical. Ideals are fine, but there was a life to live. The two seemed incompatible. Something died within us as we quickly adapted to the ways of the world which meant ego, greed, false pride, short cuts, jugaad….

And then a diminutive young man entered our lives in the early 90s.  It was almost like a Yuga had begun, and it truly was, as we’d realise later. An era which would tell us, Mumbai, India and the world that the pursuit of excellence is possible, that we could take on the world with our own Indian-ness one step at a time, one ball at a time, with honesty, humility and with sheer hard work. It wasn’t the first time that this was happening. About 70 years ago a khadi clad man had taken on the might of the British Empire single- handedly through truth and non-violence, He had conquered the world with his unique approach, and it isn’t mere coincidence that Gandhiji was also a man of short stature.

We exulted for many years in the company of this new found gem, handling him with care not letting anything hurt him. It was all glory for him, for the country, for us. I still remember the outrage when Mike Denness questioned his integrity. Knives were drawn, but the way Sachin conducted himself reminded us, yet again of the Indianness of his actions and showed us the path.

 And then he slumped. Apparently did. And the wolves were out, classical Indian criticism- can’t play on foreign soil, plays only for himself, can never take India to victory etc. Yet he never let his emotions show, surely must’ve hurt. We tried to make him Captain but just like Mahatma Gandhi could never be PM, spare Sachin the task of leading the team. The Genius had the larger task of carrying the morality and hopes of an entire nation that was his true captaincy.

He understood that this criticism is all out of love, just like in our families, where too much love means extreme cynosure. Nothing is allowed to go wrong, everything has to be perfect. He knew that he still carried the hopes of millions; they wanted HIM to be perfect. He put his head down and just played. And played. Conquered the Gentlemen at Lords, the ruffians in Australia, the Springboks in South Africa. The records came, the bat rose for the straight drive, the covers parted to reveal the cover drive. India breathed in relief; all is forgiven welcome back home it said. Sachin just smiled to himself, adjusted his helmet and took strike.

He started ageing. Had to, was inevitable. The bat came down fractionally slower; he seemed brittle, losing wickets to ordinary street side like talent. India couldn’t imagine this, we just wanted to shut our eyes and forget it. Even calls for his retirement were to just spare ourselves the pain of seeing him falter, fumble. Selfish India, didn’t want to lose that one Indian who we could point at with pride and say that is Indianness, that’s what we are all about. Yes he. HE.

So while he departs, the game is poorer for sure. And India is too. He is the Lord Rama of our times. And when he walked away as if into exile, the whole of India wished him not to go. But he had lived by his dharma and walked away when the time had come. We didn’t want him to leave; we wanted him to be there forever. For whenever we were down, he was there, whenever we felt good, he made us feel better. When the world spoke about India, they spoke about Sachin. When fans world over rose for an Indian they did so most often for him. They gasped when he started his career with that rare combination of class and aggression and nodded and nodded as he never relented. It was endorsement for a country that had been insecure for too long of its place in the world. And when the Don told the world that he saw himself in Sachin, we knew that the world had been conquered by this one man who we couldn’t have enough of.

We heard him speak yesterday.  We were used to his bat doing the talking, this was different. We were stunned by the story of this man. In his own words. And everything that we had constructed this man to be- humble, simple, grounded was unravelling in front of our eyes…tears, tears, more tears. You could see sadness in his eye, a tear of two; he said he was feeling emotional. The icon of our hopes, the Rama of our times was human after all. Yet above all that you could still see an innocent glint in his eyes, the same glint that one had seen many years ago when as a 14 yr old he had said in his first interview “I just want to play cricket”

And when he walked alone to the pitch at Wankhede, bent over and touched the ground to pay his respects for one last time, a teary eyed nation found solace thinking that our boy remained what he always was….A true son of India's soil.