SACHIN...SACH MEIN YOU ARE A HERO

SACHIN.....SACH MEIN YOU ARE A HERO

How do I start calling him, revered Sachin Tendulkar or wait, he is already above the boundaries confining revered individuals, he has already crossed divinity, so maybe I will relook on my vocabulary for some good prefixes, an idol, a deity or the God himself? Naah...We don’t quite get the sense of his abilities with all these, to me he is a supernatural, yes, that is what suits the best, because it takes something special to score a hundred in these competitive times, but to score a century of centuries you have to be a supernatural, someone whom God has created himself with great passion and patience.

I am not going to think about the manner in which he scored his latest ton that will be best left to the critics I am not even going to think about the match result, that will be best left to people always viewing things with a holistic perspective. The reason why I don’t want to think about the match result is quite simple, is India losing against Bangladesh a bigger history or Sachin his 100^th 100, yes, you got it. And why at all does anyone have to look at the latest ton only, there are 99 more he has left behind, a look at most of them and will be convinced he indeed is a conqueror, a protagonist of a narrative called cricket. As he himself says it, “I was not thinking about the milestone, the media started all this, wherever I went, the restaurant, room service, everyone was talking about the 100th hundred. It became menatlly tough for me because nobody talked about my 99 hundreds”.

He is a maestro, a genius, an ace, a role model, however you put in, he is someone whom people will always try to emulate. As an SMS goes, "When Sachin Tendulkar travelled to Pakistan to face one of the finest bowling attacks ever assembled in cricket, Michael Schumacher was yet to race a F1 car, Lance Armstrong had never been to the Tour de France, Diego Maradona was still the captain of a world champion Argentina team, Pete Sampras had never won a Grand Slam, Roger Federer was a name unheard of; Lionel Messi was in his nappies, Usain Bolt was an unknown kid in the Jamaican backwaters."  

More than a cricketer he is the definition of a character that personifies Indian-ness. The charisma of this bloke is absolutely incomparable. Every newspaper you read, every news channel you hear, every social portal you login, there’s just one thing on everyone’s mind, Sachin, India’s favourite child who has a place in a billion hearts.

I just want to live the afternoon of 16^th March, 2012, when the history was made. Let this be a time devoid of factual and statistical observations, let us remain time frozen, immersed into the glory of this marvellous feat, as most batsmen would say it, “He is in a batsmen’s seventh heaven”

Madness Exemplified!

WARNING: This is not a travelogue for Lonavala in anyone’s wildest sense of imagination. It merely is a carving on virtual media, narrating the day that was, twice after Sun had turned up 330 minutes past the moment it had enlightened the middle of a kingdom which proclaimed until recently “Sun never sets here”.  Now, that your brains had enough comprehension exercises, it’s time to hang up with this oration.

It’s not very often that, when I lay down my lower flipside on the comfortable corner confines of my divan, my 100 grams of cerebrum comes across a title even before I start the actual inscriptions.  But when I look back on that day, and recall our noble deeds, there is one word that I Trans through, ‘Madness’.

This one says it all about ‘KILL-KULTURE’

Right in the morning, when someone reprimands you for being late at a meeting point, when it doesn’t even matter since the medium of transport is tardy beyond acceptable limits, you know are in a Killing-Kompany. Finally the van arrived, not to miss with the person who in-principle held up the madness from beginning.

 My first death happened very soon, with all my efforts and a CD down the drain in a freak mistake the night before. Guns were out, luckily the driver had an even refined collection of latest charts that came to my rescue and largely to the rescue the picnic from being a sober affair.

The after effects of ZNMD were there for all to see, people got desperate for hearing the sweet senorita sound, even after it being played for the umpteenth time.

The insaneness for senorita halted briefly with the tummy time. Spirits returned with doses of ‘vada-pavs’, ‘pohas’ and the ‘kharvases’.

Soon we were up on the expressway. All the excitement broke loose, and heads were seen being coming out of windows, along with the dear camera. Sadly, all plans of uploading the snaps on social network failed, when the group realised there was a semi-bald head poking out to be featured or rather ruin every picture.

The ‘Semi-Girebaal’ show

 

Lonavala proved a dampener. Thing we feared most happened, we weren’t allowed to go at the famous Bushi Dam. Nevertheless, our great think-tank had a plan B. We went for some alternative dam, only to tire us all out by walking nothing less than 2-3 miles. When I look back, it was a great amusement, we not only turned our picnic to a trek but also got all of us ‘muddy’. Luckily the think- tank soon regained its thinking prowess and we were all on for reaching the nadir of the Lonavala hills to be inside waters of Zenith! 

 The insatiable thirst came to fore at zenith falls. No amount of hunger cramps deterred the bathing spirits of the group. Thanks to the fellow tourists, and specially their intoxicated state, we were finally out of waters. 

The return journey was even more preposterous to say the least. The mob turned too happy and gay. Some heads dozed off, but the live ones were banging, till our destinations did us apart.

Now that I’m being too clumsy, I end my little piece here. Hope it brought back some sweet and naughty memories :)

 This picture at the best portrays the self-restraint power of the group and its acting talent, it suggests nothing else. A perfect example of ‘What you see may not be true’.