By Saurabh Srivastav
December 25 2005

A fan describes the experience of growing up with an icon of Indian cricket. The only thing greater than the batsman may be the man himself. The other day I was watching the Bollywood classic Masoom. Hindi cine buffs would perhaps remember it as the wonderful rendition of "Man, Woman and Child", brought to life by Shekhar Kapur and wonderfully acted by Shabana Azami and Naseeruddin Shah. Music lovers may remember it for great songs like "Tujhse naraaz nahin zindagi", "Do naina", and "Huzoor is kadar." And many would remember it for the sheer innocence of the child artistes in that movie.

I enjoyed Masoom for all the above reasons and more. It was the first movie in which Urmila Matondkar acted. I remember her because, if I think about it, she grew up along with me. Not in the sense of living in the same neighborhood or city, but quite literally on screen. I saw her as a kid, then a teen, then a grown woman. To me, Aishwarya Rai and Sushmita Sen are Indians who might as well have grown up on Mars: I didn't know about them until they won their Miss World and Universe crowns. Prettier they might be, and perhaps better actors too, but they can never have the same bond with me as Urmila does on some levels.

Sachin Ramesh Tendulkar has that bond with millions of cricket fans of my generation.

The first time I heard of Sachin, he was setting domestic cricket ablaze with his exploits. Still a teenager, he had spanked most of the top bowlers domestic cricket had to offer.

At the time, I felt both pride and envy towards him. Here was a guy older than me, but not by much, carving a niche for himself among all Indians... including the girls. No surprise that when he was picked to tour Pakistan, I kind of hoped that he would flop!! For a while, it went my way when Sachin was dismissed for 15 in his first Test innings, cleaned up by a Waqar Younis special.

It was in the final Test that his true character came through. After Waqar gave him a bloody nose, the lad (and Sachin was truly a lad at that time) refused to throw in the towel, and against a pace attack comprising Wasim, Waqar and Imran, scored a fighting half-century. Needless to say, my envy was long gone by then and all that remained was an unbridled admiration.

Fans of my generation could forever debate on who is the best batsman -- Lara, Waugh, Sachin, Inzy, Dravid. But for me, it's a no-brainer. Warne said it best: "There is Sachin, then daylight, and then the rest".

Maybe I'm a bit biased because I have seen Sachin since he was 13 to now when he is 30-plus, carrying himself with grace and dignity all the time. The rest of them might have as well come from Mars for all I care!

His fans (and detractors) could gape with awe at his statistics, but what statistics can possibly capture what Sachin gave to millions of cricket crazy Indians - Hope and Aspiration? In cricket-crazy India, the same questions were played out whenever India was playing,

"Kaun batting kar reha hai?" (Who is batting?) If it was India, the next question would be,

"Kitna score hua?" (What's the score?) And it didn't matter whether the answer was 3/2 or 300/2, the next always had to be,

"Sachin...?"

If Sachin was dismissed, many would turn off their TV and get back to work. If he wasn't, then it didn't matter if 2 wickets were down or 7, there was still hope. That's how well this little curly-haired chap, all of 5-foot-4, could pull the entire country out of the doldrums!

It was the same story all through the 90's and the new millenium. By this time, I had moved from school to college to job, and then moved abroad, but whenever I looked at the score I first checked the right side of the scorecard against Sachin's name. If he was there, we could win. It didn't matter where the game was played: he would pummel Ambrose in the Windies, McDermott down under, Donald in South Africa. It was cricket's loss that Sachin couldn't face the W's at their best, and true cricket fans would perhaps always lament that.

If all that was not incredible in itself, what was even more awe-inspiring was how he dealt with the adulation heaped on him.

Easily the richest cricketer alive (probably of all time), he would hardly be caught doing anything wrong anywhere. When dismissed, he would rush back to the pavilion -- it didn't matter if he had scored a double century or a blob. When he scored a century there was a reigned-in celebration and a determination writ on his face that said, "Miles to go before I sleep". No jumping jacks, no arms rotating like windmill with bat pointing all around. He would take a step back, wait for the crowds to quieten and take his stance.

Perhaps the only times when he let his emotions come to fore was when he hit acentury in the 1999 World Cup, and when he scored his 35th Test ton the other day. And both times, it was a son crediting his success to his father and missing him. If you watched either, you would be misty-eyed.

If that isn't enough, he is as modest as any cricketer has ever been. Ian Botham writes about how speechless he was when Tendular referred to him as "Mr. Botham". After scoring his 35th century, Sachin's words were, "Mr. Gavaskar will always be a hero of mine. I would say to him, 'Thank you for the support you have given us'."

Wasim Akram once described how, prior to the start of an ODI, he had approached Sachin with a tongue-in-cheek "Don't hit me for too many fours," only to be told, "Aap to itne achche bowler hain, aapko kaun maar sakta hai?"

Quite frankly, it couldn't have happened to a better player and person. One who is a role model not only in sport but also in life. Who always gave 100% to his team, and refused to be caught up in politics. Who belonged to the "khadoos" batting club of Bombay pedigree (made immortal by Sunny's comment) and was loved by everyone privileged to watch him. Who would be the first to help the youngsters in the team. One who still today, after almost two decades, inspires and gives hope to millions.

Maybe this guy is from Mars after all!!

Thank you Sachin.