As a youth, when Mohandas Karamchand Gandhi wanted to go to England in pursuit of higher studies, it is said that his mother made him promise her that he would never smoke, touch alcohol or women. The concern might be borne from her acute fears of what the big bad world may suck her beloved son into, but when I read the story in my ninth standard academic text I did not feel anything. Yet, in her exact shoes, I find myself today, after Sachin Tendulkar has decided to retire from playing International Cricket. I shudder to think of what we as a country will lure him into doing after Cricket and I wish he never leaves the ground, where I’m certain he will find peace indefinitely.

Sachin Tendulkar has given us moments of immense pride and joy all through his career and there have been deservedly glowing tributes showering him with affectionate praise all over the internet, yet when I think of him today, the innings that continues to haunt my mind was his gritty 91 made against England at The Oval in 2011. It was not his usual flamboyant or chanceless innings, but one that was replete with plays-and-misses, half chances, thick edges, getting beaten and surviving close calls. The way he played Graeme Swann on that day, treating every delivery like an interrogation of his skill, endurance and effectiveness. The image of him walking away from the wicket after each ball, expression as impassive as ever, dragging his bat along or resting it on his shoulders, so as not to let Swann rush through his overs, walking back to the crease to defend more tentatively, was so disturbing and powerful that it made me wonder for the first time if the end indeed was nearer than I imagined. Yet, he endured the survival, the embarrassment, while his partner, a lesser celebrated batsman, Amit Mishra looked at relative ease, all because he never wanted to give up what he loved doing the most, that is to play Cricket.  It was not the most defining innings of his career, actually quite far from that, but it certainly was one which showed us his love for the game, so much so that when he was adjudged LBW off Bresnan he never wanted to walk back from the ground, despite his struggles in it.

As a person, Sachin Tendulkar may evoke respect but his personality is far from being considered fascinating. He looks out of place in any attire other than his jerseys and whites, and his words were always too simple, his praise measured and his demeanor never allows anyone to know what actually goes on in his mind, there probably is nothing other than the thoughts about his next practice session or game. However, once he gets on to the ground, he expresses himself emphatically and the communication with us is always certain, undeniably emotional, almost romantic. Words are never needed and can never do justice to the way he connects instinctively to everyone tuned into the game or watching him live, as if in his trademark straight drive he says that all is well with the world and asks us to accompany him in his journey. We are only too grateful for the offer Sir. We always were.

The recent developments in the country in particular and general ways of the world in general, made me a bit cynical and might have turned me into a bitter person, but Tendulkar always remained the only beacon of optimism. I have always wanted the best of everything to happen to him on the Cricket field, whether it is wishing every innings of his to be a century, or watching him to bowl leg spin more often, or take stunning catches. I don’t want him to be one of us, not that he would become one, though I don’t think we can offer him a better place than a Cricket Ground.  

As the great man walked back into the pavilion for one last time, a silent tear welled up in my eye, as deliciously salty as it was when I saw him holding the World Cup in 2011, but I’m equally worried about what he might walk into.  Is he equipped to face the challenges the other side of the world has for him? What lies next for him and if he will be able to cope up with life after Cricket? These are daunting questions and though I’m a lot younger than him, I cannot help the fatherly concern, rising within, of a man towards his most favorite son about his future.

It is said that Mahatma Gandhi never broke the three promises he made to his mother and I wish Tendulkar’s mother makes him promise not three but just one. Never to stop playing Cricket.