The Little Master

Note: Though I had started writing this poem the day when India lost to Sri Lanka; but somehow I have only managed to complete this one exactly one month later on the 34th birthday of the Little Master.

At that tender age of sixteen,
Oh! How young and charming he had been!

The youngest one on the international stage
Who would take him seriously, given his age?

Facing the likes of Wasim and Waqar,
Everyone thought he would never get far.

Hit on his head by a nasty one,
You would expect fear in his eyes but there was none.

Eight men waiting round his bat,
They mistook him for a kid to be mocked at!

Those who saw him play that determined knock,
Knew that he was one of his stock.

He instilled fear in every bowling attack,
None could dare to rest till they saw his back.

Mesmerizing the audience with his majestic strokes,
He was the darling of all cricket-loving folks.

For all these years on the international scene,
He has been the backbone of the Indian Team.

Betting on the opposition would be a risky affair
Specially if the beloved Sachin is out there.

For over a decade and a half he carried a billion hopes,
The ball seemed in a hurry to fly past the ropes!

In recent times we saw his glory wane,
And more too often India has lost the game.

They say that Sachin is a past legend,
But I believe that the journey is still too early to end.

Soon again Sachin will be back to form,
And then no one would dare say that he does not perform.

Soon yet again when he will set the stands ablaze,
The nation will be gripped by a renewed cricketing craze.

India may have crashed out of World Cup two thousand and seven,
But with Sachin around we still nurture the dream of 2-O-eleven!!

Some quotations on our beloved Sachin:

“You might pitch a ball on the off stump and think you have bowled a good ball and he walks across and hits it for two behind midwicket. His bat looks so heavy but he just waves it around like it's a toothpick.”
– Brett Lee, on Sachin Tendulkar’s batting.

“Beneath the helmet, under that unruly curly hair, inside the cranium, there is something we don't know, something beyond scientific measure. Something that allows him to soar, to roam a territory of sport that, forget us, even those who are gifted enough to play alongside him cannot even fathom. When he goes out to bat, people switch on their television sets and switch off their lives”. (Waiting for that moment again!)