A sombre backdrop of dark grey hue, a pregnant and threatening cloud looming in the horizon, a dusty gust of wind resonating the ring of a death bell, many a valiant warriors falling to their travails against an enemy far powerful – and you walk in. Somewhere in the minds of a billion countrymen, a bagpiper assumes a steady crescendo to the tunes of that immortal song, Amazing Grace.
With blood and gore all around you, you restore the faith of a billion through dignity and character. You dig in with all your resolve, strength or frailty of the body notwithstanding, and you dig in deep. You awe the enemy with your grit, true grit. You awe them such that they succumb to the same quirks of fate that had threatened to decimate your fellow mates.
Would I be exaggerating if I said you are the keeper of the faith that a billion entrusted a sports team with? Perhaps the argument will not find many takers for you didn’t wow the legions with flamboyance, didn’t beam through TV sets in a zillion commercials, didn't get knighted or bedevilled by the media as often as others, but you did remind us that to win a game, one did not need any of these. Grit and grace, is what you showed, were substance enough to humble the powerful.
In an era where divinity was accorded upon mortals, the outrageous far outnumbered the modest; you stood alone, an apostle of dignity. In a sport that is fast defining itself as a mode of entertainment; you were the odd teacher of morality. It is not easy being upright when the world around you seeps with morbid base traits. Yet you did, you brought a semblance of sanity to an otherwise cacophonous madhouse. To do that amidst the many cat-calls of the fickle minded must not have been an easy task. How could one restrain oneself from playing that outrageous, crowd fixating shot if the situation demanded a sedentary toil of running between the wickets remains a knack elusive to most of your colleagues. But then, they have crafted their niche with such entertaining antics. They hadn't been inquisitioned as often as you for they were the exact, factory built, custom made packages for a stadium demanding overdoses of an adrenalin rush.
In such times of easy comers, easy goers, your success still surprises many for your strength according to them, lies not in punishing with the maximum force. But the lesser brain fails to register the fact that a gentle caress has more effectiveness than base brutality. Anyone who has witnessed those cover drives of yours should not have the desire to debate that.
The author of epics seldom ingrain themselves in their work. Homer does not allude to himself in Illiad, Vyasa does not call for self glory in Mahabharata. Perhaps, for the epic to be truly great, its author must treat his work with detachment. Perhaps that is why, people remember the impossible victories or the improbable truces that you authored but not you. But then, isn't that the ultimate achievement for a creator? To live through his creations. The epics in Australia, England, South Africa and at home will be remembered for the correct reasons. But were it not for you, there wouldn't be those reasons.
A grateful people honor their true heroes. Time will tell if you will receive your deserved due from the people that have a bagful of lessons in life to learn from you. They have to realize that to rise above the muck of arrogance and hubris, to accommodate and adjust and not fight bitter for self, to beat and yet be humble is to be truly great.
When I was a child, I detested your disregard for the fanciful. I regaled more in the power of others than in the sublimity of your play. My elder brother, being of far better mental faculties and wiser beyond his years, tried to make me realize your value through his impeccable arguments. I disregarded him at that time only to realize later to my deep embarrassment, how right he was and how wrong was I. I grew up. Whether others will, I know not.
You are the true champion of a game that is at war with itself over definition. As Cricket fights to make itself relevant with unabashed worship of brawn and display of seminude girls, the puritans draw solace from the fact that you too lived through these times of transition. You will remain the final argument of an aspiring child who must convince his parents that Cricket is indeed a game of gentleman. And the parents will not have the heart to contest it, for you are the human embodiment of that precisely - A Cricketer & A Gentleman.
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