I don’t read autobiographies. None so far. But I’m sure looking forward to one. I so hope he pens it all down one day. For people like me it’ll be a sacred book.
I didn’t watch the match but soon enough read the length and breadth of the newspaper. Since last 15 years I’ve been cutting out stuff that inspires me, moves me, makes my heart swell. Those to do with Sachin invariably do that. I often get tears even (that might also be because am kinda weird, emotionally). Added the latest ones too to the already huge collection – from sharjah to his twenty-years-in-cricket day. I have his picture with him lifting his bat to the sky, on the face of my cupboard, at the top. Below follow other great sports-persons, leaders, soldiers (whether rolls of honour or a rickety hostel cupboard, sachin can’t be lower down). That picture has become a tad bit yellow. This new one can replace it. It’s easy with Sachin’s pictures. A great moment is never too far to let the older one become too yellow.
“I dedicate this double century to all the people of India who stood behind me through ups and downs”.. The way he’s been talking like this for twenty years now, a silly girl like me has actually come to believe that he personally takes care of how I feel. I’ve come to believe that I’m someone really important in his life.
I almost didn’t care to watch the match highlights. But oddly wished I could watch him sleep that night. And get some well deserved rest. And see him get up lazily in the morning. Bum around the house. And then ask me, hey, Priya, how are you, girl?
And then I get filled with all this guilt. Gulp. I cover my mouth lest I blurt it out. I am sure he won’t mind. The way he’s so nice. But its bad, nevertheless, the way I feel. But can’t help it. Who else will listen to me. And Sachin always listens. Ok. ‘Hmm. Sachin, ab, sorry, umm, ab ek world-cup ho jaye?’
Sachin patiently listens to a billion voices everyday.
As Matt Hayden puts it best, ‘I have seen God, he bats at No. 4 for India.’
Take a bow.
