On Sachin’s 45th Birthday, A Poem Dedicated To The Master Blaster

When they forget that you are not a god but a human

When you are compared to a celestial deity, and they forget that to err is human,

When you carry on uncomplainingly for years and years together

Driven by a singular objective to score runs every year,

When in a game having Lara, Warne, Ponting, Waugh and Gavaskar,

You become cricket’s greatest run-maker,

When mothers and wives and sons and fathers are seen fasting together

When knock upon knock, boundary after boundary, shot after shot you make it look easy, you make it look better,

When tragedies cannot stop you, injuries cannot slow you down,

When yours is the name commanding Lord’s, Jamaica, Chittagong or the last mile of a cricket town,

When you embrace over and above comparisons with living greats, the call to bring you down

Them calling you selfish, the one who played for records,

But you carry on, simply carry on scoring runs and do not frown,

When you know you have shrunk boundaries between the world and India,

And been the constant focus of shutterbugs and media,

When you have pretty much done it all,

Scored hundreds from the top, batted in the middle and brought the world to a standstill,

But haven’t had the fortune of admiring the game from a moment that’s isolated, so very still,

Being constantly engaged in the heart-thumping, pressure of playing for India,

Never without a smile, always with a grin,

Whether facing the disappointment of a defeat or the nervy excitement of a win,

When in times mired by boredom a straight drive can spring life into a game,

And can a punch to the covers can rescue fans from the clutch of monotony,

When you know nothing else is needed but simply your calming presence,

To bring the sport that fleeting moment of harmony,

When a Bradman calls out to you, Warne remains terrified,

When Lara wants his son to bat like you and, Gideon Haigh calls you greater than the game,

Then you know it, you know it, what’s in a name

Nothing that Shakespeare’s saying can ever do, Nothing that any tribute can ever bring

Sachin Tendulkar is cricket and cricket is Sachin Tendulkar, like a drop of dew in wintery mornings, like a flower blossoming in spring