Our country has many gods - the Durga is not revered with the same vigouroutside Bengal, while the Ganapati is Maharashtra’s elite deity. Muslims andChristians have their own God. We have appropriated the various avatars of thealmighty and jealously cling to them.
But no one appropriates you. You belong to India - from every little town tothe bustling metropolis.
We have many demands from you. Most of the times you’ve paid heed, but whenyou don’t, we cry in anguish. The only time our mothers ever stopped doinghousehold work was when you walked in to bat. The one cricketer whose name allour mothers could remember was Sachin Ramesh Tendulkar.
Life has many experiences in store for us, but it leaves very few permanentimprints. Your exuberant celebrations after the final ball of the Hero Cup semifinal, your feats amidst the Middle Eastern desert storm and violating thedreams of Shane Warne were such imprints. We grew up being fanatical about ourlittle champion.
But those were the 90s.
Our mothers have come a long way - these days they know most of ourcricketers. Rahul Dravid, Sourav Ganguly, even Yuvraj Singh and Irfan Pathanhave all occupied a chunk of our cricket euphoric minds. It is no longerfashionable to take less than 5 seconds to answer when asked who our favouritecricketer is. Do you feel slightly dethroned?
You needn’t be - your knock in the 2003 World Cup against Pakistan assuredus: "Arre bhai, Sachin is Sachin."
You made your 35th test century 7 innings ago. You are perhaps feelingcrestfallen at newspapers headlines such as "Endulkar". But don’t youunderstand that you are not supposed to have slumps? You’ve had a few, andeach time it is equally painful for us to handle. 16 years of internationalcricket or not, you’re still 32. How can you be done?
Rahul Dravid has crossed your test average and Ricky Ponting is threateningyour record of test centuries. More than you, this is a cause for worry for us.You have so much more to do - a certain Brian Lara still holds the record for thehighest test runs. Your record suddenly looks mortal - whatever happened to SunilGavaskar’s prediction that you will leave the field with records impossiblefor anyone else to touch?
India - the land of a million deities - is suddenly one short. Our littlemaster has gone missing. "God is back", hoped a journalist upon yourexplosive return to one-day cricket after injury. But obviously that was more aspark than a blaze.
When a batsman scores 163, the others are supposed to fade. But the 1,00,000-odd people at the Eden Gardens abouteight years ago were deflating theirlungs not at Mohammed Azharuddin, who had, admittedly, played a gem of an innings.
86 balls, 79 runs - 12 fours and 2 sixes. This was the majestic Tendulkar athis very best. Rahul Dravid must’ve felt dejected at the huge cheering thaterupted at his dismissal after making a typically assured 86 off 150 balls. Thecrowd knew they had lost a star, but a master was about to take centre stage.That was the first - and only - time I saw you play live, and like the other99,999 people, I was stunned.
I - and many others, I’m sure - pray that the sun has not yet set on ourlittle champion. We hope that the drums and bugles will be back even louder. Andwe hope they will reach their crescendo at the Kensington Oval in Barbados nextyear at the highest stage cricket has to offer - the World Cup final. The writingwill then be definitely on the wall- "The God of India has returned".
And the lesser mortals will again gape in pure admiration.
Yours sincerely,
Aruni Mukherjee
Aruni Mukherjee who sent us this open letter to Sachin Tendulkar isbased at the University of Warwick, England.
