Today, I witnessed the fading light of a cricketing colossus.
The setting of one of the game’s most devoted students—a man who bore the
legacy of past greats with an almost sacred sense of duty. Yet, this is not a
sunset to be cherished. It is not an evening for fireworks and festivities. For
what I witnessed was not merely a retirement; it was the end of an era—the era
of Sachin Ramesh Tendulkar.
For those who revere Test cricket, the departure of an
iconic figure is never just a statistic in history. It is a loss, a void, an
absence that leaves the air heavy with silence. The symphony has ceased
mid-performance, and the orchestra stands still, unsure whether to play on or
mourn the maestro who once led them.
My relationship with Tendulkar spans over two decades—a
complex bond woven from admiration, frustration, and reluctant reverence. I
have resented the deification that surrounded him. I have argued against his
pedestal in the pantheon of cricketing gods. I have debated his standing with
those who swore by his greatness. And yet, at times, I have found myself
compelled to surrender to his genius, nodding in silent acknowledgement of his
unparalleled mastery. I saw him transform from a wide-eyed prodigy into a
figure of towering influence, a name whispered with awe in the corridors of
cricketing history.
At his peak, he evoked the fearless dominance of Viv
Richards and the flawless technique of Sunil Gavaskar. Yet, what set him apart
was not just his artistry but the sheer weight of expectation he bore. Every
time he walked out to bat, he did not just carry a bat—he carried the heartbeat
of a billion people. He was more than a cricketer; he was a symbol of hope, an
anchor in the storm for a nation that found solace in his presence at the
crease.
And yet, I refuse to call him the ‘God of Cricket.’
No, I do not place him above Bradman, Sobers, or Richards.
But to deny his significance would be an injustice to the sport itself.
Tendulkar redefined cricketing excellence, shattered records, and sculpted
innings of such brilliance that time seemed to pause in reverence. For 24
years, his name was synonymous with the rhythm of Indian cricket, his batting
the pulse that dictated the game’s heartbeat.
He was not just among the greats; he was among the greatest.
I will forever remember the elegance of his straight drives,
the effortless grace of his cover drives, and the sheer authority of his pull
shots. His back-foot punches through point and backward point were sheer
poetry—fluid, precise, devastating. If there were ever indulgences worth
forsaking, I would have abandoned them all just to watch him craft another
masterpiece.
Cricket fans like me do not just watch the game; we live it
through the memories of players like Tendulkar. His innings were not mere
scores on a scoreboard—they were tapestries woven into our lives, stitched
together with childhood wonder, teenage excitement, and adult nostalgia. We
marked milestones through his centuries, celebrated his triumphs as our own,
and felt the sting of his dismissals like personal heartbreaks.
Tendulkar was not just a cricketer—he was an experience, a
phenomenon that transcended sport. His batting was a refuge, a momentary escape
from the uncertainties of life. He did not merely wield a bat; he wielded
dreams, hopes, and aspirations. Few athletes in history have shouldered the
expectations of an entire nation with such grace, humility, and determination.
And now, he is gone.
With Tendulkar’s retirement, the world of Test cricket is
undeniably poorer. The departure of a legend is not just the closing of a
career; it is the fading of an age. An age where batting was a delicate craft,
where patience was rewarded, where skill triumphed over brute force. It is the
end of a time when artistry and resilience walked hand in hand.
The game will move on, as it always does. New heroes will
emerge, new records will be set, and new names will be etched in history. But
the void left by Tendulkar will remain—a silent reminder of a time when cricket
was graced by a batsman whose presence turned stadiums into temples of
devotion.
Thank you, Sachin Ramesh Tendulkar, for the two decades of
magic. Thank you for the countless moments of joy, heartbreak, and wonder.
Cricket will go on, but it will never be the same again.
Thank You
