Sachin Tendulkar: The Sunset of a Cricketing Legend

It is over.  

Today, I witnessed the setting of one of cricket’s most obedient students. A man who carried the legacy of past greats with an almost sacred sense of responsibility and honour. Yet, this is not a sunset to celebrate. It is not an evening for fireworks and festivities, for what I witnessed was the end of an era—the era of *Sachin Ramesh Tendulkar.

For lovers of Test cricket, the departure of a classical maestro is never a joyous occasion. The exit of an iconic figure leaves behind a void, a silence, as though the orchestra has ceased mid-symphony.  

My relationship with Tendulkar goes back to 1990—a complicated bond woven from admiration, irritation, and grudging respect. I have disliked him. I have admired him. And, at times, I have bowed silently to his genius. I saw him evolve from a prodigious child into one of cricket’s most influential figures. At his best, he reminded me of the regal swagger of Viv Richards and the serene mastery of Sunil Gavaskar. Yet, I was often infuriated by the media frenzy that surrounded him. The deification of Tendulkar was something I could never accept.  

No, I still do not place him above The Don, Sobers or Viv Richards. I refuse to call him the “God of Cricket.”  

But what I cannot deny is this: Tendulkar redefined cricketing numbers, tore down records, and carried the hopes of a billion people every time he walked to the crease. His presence did not just inspire; it compelled. It was as if time itself paused, hypnotized by his mastery, commanding the world to witness his batting spectacle. For 24 years, the rhythm of Tendulkar’s game became the heartbeat of Indian cricket—and, in many ways, of cricket worldwide.  

He was not just among the greats; he was among the greatest.  

I savoured the elegance of his straight drives, the poise of his cover drives, and the power with which he dismantled bowling attacks. Tendulkar’s back-foot drives through point and backward point were poetry in motion. There are few indulgences worth sacrificing, but I would have missed a date with the most beautiful woman alive just to watch him unfurl those strokes.  

Cricket fans like me carry endless stories with this man.  

Tendulkar was not just a cricketer—he was a phenomenon, a gift from the heavens, whose craft provided solace amid the chaos of life. Few athletes in history have carried the weight of a nation’s hopes like he did. His batting was not merely a spectacle; it was a source of collective healing, a shared escape from the everyday anxieties of existence.  

With Tendulkar’s retirement, the world of Test cricket is undeniably poorer. His departure marks not just the end of a career, but the end of an era—a farewell to a form of batting that blended grace with grit, artistry with precision.  

Thank you, Sachin Ramesh Tendulkar, for two decades of wonder. Thank you for the memories that will live far beyond your playing days.

Thank You

Faisal Caesar 

Bangladesh's Resurgence: The Rise of the Tigers and the Dawn of a New Era

The last ball had been delivered. McClenaghan charged in with a short-pitched delivery, and Sohag Gazi sent it soaring over the slips with a deft uppercut that raced to the boundary. The crowd at Fatullah Stadium, teetering on the edge of their seats, erupted in ecstatic applause. Bangladesh had done the unthinkable—they had whitewashed New Zealand 3-0. The “Banglawash” was complete. As waves of euphoria rippled through the stadium and into the heart of the nation, it was a rare, poignant moment in Bangladeshi cricket—a victory to savour, a triumph to remember.

Few dared to dream of such an outcome at the outset of the series, especially given the odds stacked against Bangladesh. New Zealand had set a daunting 300-plus target in the final ODI, a score that would unnerve most teams. Bangladesh, though improving, were not traditionally known for chasing down such totals, especially against higher-ranked teams. Yet, a shift had been taking place—a silent but profound transformation rooted in self-belief. In recent years, this Bangladesh side had shown glimpses of defiance and grit, but now they were starting to finish the job. This was the second consecutive “Banglawash” they’d inflicted on New Zealand, a testament to a new mentality, a refusal to go down without a fight.

This transformation was all the more remarkable in light of Bangladesh’s challenges. Just before the ODI series began, Shakib Al Hasan, Bangladesh’s star all-rounder and a linchpin in their 4-0 series win over New Zealand in 2010, was sidelined by dengue fever. His absence raised the all-too-familiar question: Could Bangladesh pull through without their talisman? In the past, a missing star often spelt trouble for the Tigers. However, the team’s bench strength was beginning to look different. Emerging players were stepping up, bridging the gaps and proving their mettle on the field.

Naeem Islam filled Shakib's role with calm, clinical precision. When Tamim Iqbal was unavailable for the final ODI, young guns Shamsur Rahman and Ziaur Rahman rose to the occasion, ensuring that Bangladesh’s momentum remained undeterred. This newfound resilience was refreshing. Where Bangladesh once struggled to maintain composure in high-stakes matches, this group exhibited an unfamiliar steadiness. 

Central to this evolution was skipper Mushfiqur Rahim. Unwavering under pressure and willing to throw young players into crucial situations, Mushfiqur embodied the spirit of a new Bangladesh—determined, strategic, and unafraid. His calculated risks paid off time and again during the series. From opening the bowling with Sohag Gazi to trusting Mominul Haque’s occasional spin at key moments to backing Rubel Hossain’s firepower against Corey Anderson in the first ODI, Mushfiqur’s moves revealed an astute cricketing mind at work.

Mushfiqur’s tactical acumen shone in his field placements and timing. Recognizing the flow of the game, he adjusted fielders to choke the scoring rate and leveraged his bowlers’ strengths against the Kiwis. These decisions showcased a captain with a shrewd eye and a patient understanding of the game. But as with any team on the rise, the real test lies ahead. Challenges abroad will be fiercer, the margins thinner, and the pressures manifold. In these unfamiliar arenas, Mushfiqur’s character, and that of his young Tigers, will be tested.

For now, though, Bangladesh rejoiced in the moment. In Fatullah, as cheers echoed and flags waved, the nation saw a new vigour, a pride rekindled in their team. The Tigers had made their statement—undaunted, undeterred, and ever determined to grow stronger.

 

Thank You

Faisal Caesar