He still bats for us

My father owned a Vespa. The one that was made in collaboration with Lohia Machinery (LML). A family of 4 traveling on a scooter was a strict ‘no’ for my Father. My brother being considerably older, used to be left behind and I went along everywhere simply because if left together we’d fight. Once, we went to a relative’s place, a place we’d go to all the time, only this time it was unscheduled, I had no idea about it. It got even more out of the ordinary as my Parents told me to not say yes to anything they offer me as we wouldn’t be staying long. We stayed for barely 10 minutes and we were off. The next stop was the Stationery. It took me some time to connect the dots that my Father, just borrowed money to buy books for my brother’s IIT entrance exam.

Why am I thinking about this now nearly 25 years later? Since yesterday, a childhood hero is being abused, mocked and vilified for something as ridiculous as me holding a grudge with the society as a whole for making my beloved Father borrow money for his son’s education. After all, it’s a reality most middle class families experience. I remember not eating, while the match was on. If he got out, my Mother had to find new elaborate ways every time to cheer me up and get me to eat. My friends in school quickly figured out this weakness and used to tease me by abusing him, only to end up with scratches on their face and torn sleeves. My Father’s scooter is flashing before my eyes every now and then and so is the image of Sachin riding pillion while Achrekar Sir took him to Azad Maidan after having practiced at Shivaji Park. Yes, that’s how close we feel that he is Achrekar Sir to us and not Mr.Achrekar. I found myself at the Wankhede while my final year University exams were going which were scheduled back to back in the same week as a test match. I’d write the exam till 11.30, then catch a Churchgate Fast and get off at Marine Lines without caring for the paper the next day simply because the fear that I may never get to see him on the field again was stronger than the fear of flunking.

Back when I was a kid, governments used to fall a lot. There was always uncertainty. Planes used to get hijacked. There was a moment’s silence in my school as an alumnus made the ultimate sacrifice at Kargil. In those days, to see an Indian of the exact height as that of the average Indian male, a man who had nothing about him that could qualify as athletic, to see that man stand and face the best bowlers of wealthy, developed nations and then hit them all around the park was in essence what every Indian wanted to do. Every Indian back then, was hungry for greatness. We are in many ways hungry for greatness today as well but back then it was different. There was so much doubt in everyone’s mind that it was palpable. A collectively depressed middle class society. The goal for everyone was to move to the US or Canada. As was the case with my brother. My father’s frustration that stemmed from being an honest man among thieves, as he bore witness to corruption in hospital supply purchase, lab equipment, used to result in frequent outbursts in the living room that always used to end up with “nobody can save this country”. The only man who was proving everyone wrong and giving hope to all of us was a stocky guy with a big bat, who looked as if he had a smile on, while facing the bowler who was looking to smash his grill. At times in the most unassuming ways and at times in the most audacious ways he’d hit that ball to the fence and walk to the side looking down at the ground as if nothing had happened. As if the noise of thousands of spectators was not audible to him.

Its something else, the relationship we have with Sachin. As it turns out not all of us can say that it’s a give and take relationship because many of us never watched him play live and joined the whole stadium in the chant when he used to walk out. Sachin gave us joy and heartache for 24 years. He never asked for anything in return. The reason I say heartache is because it didn’t feel any less painful when he got out even after scoring runs. I remember the first time I watched him was at Brabourne, Viru had belted 280 odd on the first day and we got there early to see him get to 300 and hopefully see Sachin. Viru got out at 290 odd and his applause was cut short by the collective realisation that Sachin was due next. What happened next, what I personally felt, I’d have to be a proper writer to even remotely be able to express that in words. Now that I think of it, it can’t be expressed in any other way either.

There were always cynics. There was always that someone you knew who preferred Dravid over him. Then there were those who questioned his match winning ability. But what someone never questioned was his sentiment, dedication to the game and his love for the country. I remember in the 1999 World Cup, news of his Father passing away hit all of us. Then we learnt that he would be travelling back to India. It left us all scared and sad that he may not play the rest of the tournament and the thought of him not being there if we went up against Pakistan was more than enough to lose your appetite over. But he was back and scored 140 against Kenya. What is that? How does someone do that? I’m sure there are similar examples elsewhere but as a kid, that was all I needed.

So how do we, on whose conscious Sachin reigns supreme, come to terms with the slander being meted out to him since yesterday? One thing is for sure, the radicalisation is complete. A meek, mal nourished kid enters college, that kid is instantly told that the reason he/she/etc. is not a celebrity is because the Brahmanical society held them back. Another kid is told that they were robbed of their due place in society by the Hindu right wing. Another is told that their caste Hindu parents gave them a privileged life and now it is their moral duty to stand up for the less privileged. When 19-20 year olds are told that it is not their fault that they are not skilled, not attractive and not born talented but it is the fault of one particular idea and group of people, it becomes very easy to use those minds and bodies who can survive on a pack of chips and tea all day. These kids who end up becoming tools, will abuse anyone and everyone as long as it is justifiable. I also think that there is some adrenaline or dopamine discharge when you abuse someone big and famous.

Before the hashtag started, the ones to kick it off were the usual suspects. It took them a while to recover from Sachin’s stroke, as is the case with most, but they did and they went all in. A part of me almost thought that they wouldn’t dare cross this Rubicon but I think my feelings for Sachin clouded my judgement. They were not naming Sachin directly but their tweets were meant for him and were a result of the chain of tweets from other personalities that Sachin’s tweet triggered. That’s the thing with great men. They step up, others follow. By midnight almost everyone had tweeted with the icing on the cake being Yuvraj. But people had already started foaming at their mouths over tweets of “some cricketer”. By morning the hashtag had started. My initial reaction to the hashtag was visceral. But after a while when I was at the point of doing something drastic which in this case would mean replying to as many tweets as I could, using words from my profanity dictionary which has been amalgamated over a period of 30 years and in 2 continents in 4 languages, I had a moment in which all I wanted was to know why. Why this reaction to a perfectly normal tweet and why him?

Of course one answer would be that he triggered it. Had he not gone ahead, maybe so many others would not have come forward. But the other thing that comes to mind is that those who pushed back initially, without naming him, have one specific thing in common other than being opposed to anything that the current government does. That one thing is that they despise the Indian middle class. I previously thought about including some of the screenshots of their tweets where they categorically blame the Indian middle class for electing the present government but I don’t want their poison here. They have done so on many occasions. Which is why I was forced to look at it all in this way. Sachin after all, is the living and breathing example of what the Indian middle class can achieve.

Everything about him, his love for his family, devotion towards his Guru and dedication to his work, respect for his elders, all this is the middle class template. His conduct is the quintessential Indian conduct. And I think it’s about time we stop kidding ourselves and realize that it is in fact the quintessential Hindu conduct and this burns some people very bad. When so many around him courted controversies, he remained true. I am not even going to try and capture his mental fortitude for dealing with the pressure that he did. This is a Karmayogi. This is a family man. This is someone who is respected around the world for precisely these things. He had a million opportunities to say the wrong thing and act in the wrong manner, but there wasn’t a single step off the line in 24 years. So naturally such a representative of our society becomes the enemy of the enemies of our society.

When I clicked on the hashtag and scrolled down, I could see a pattern. It became quite clear as to who was tweeting on it the most. First, there were those who used to pray for Sachin to get out whenever India played Pakistan. Then there were those who were all tweeting in English but all the bios of those handles were in a southern script. There may be some intersectionality here as a lot of people who pray for Pakistan can be found in a particular state with a southern script where even today they took out marches against Sachin. Then the third group of people were those who were using a typical logic to justify their poison. That poison is the same that we have seen get used many times by fans of certain journalists and proponents of a utopian fantasy. It is now that it must be understood what we are in store for. By going after Sachin, one thing is clear, nothing is sacred and off limits any more. We should’ve reached this conclusion when the Amar Jawan Jyoti was desecrated at Azad Maidan, or for that matter what happened at Red Fort on January 26, or for that matter that first time you saw an idiot not stand up for the anthem before the movie, but now there is no room left for any ambiguity. Anything and everything that is opposed to them must go, is the message sent. When you think about what Sachin gave the millions of this country, and then you think that some people behind a smartphone are trying to rob that, it only tells you that everything we hold dear, what we cherish, must be protected fiercely and ruthlessly.

A lot of them don’t know what it felt like, given how many of them might not even have been born when Sachin hit Warne all over the park in Sharjah. When he hit Akhtar for a six over third man or when he waved at you while fielding at the boundary line. They don’t know of those living rooms where the space was already cramped and the air heavy with emotions further shrunk the room when he was on the crease. Nor do I expect it of them. It is those living rooms, of which he became a permanent member, where the middle class dreams are dreamt. There is a seat for him in every Indian household. As for me I’m the same old kid that saw my idol like always come out front, just like he used to walk out on the field with bat in hand and did what he does best, bat for me.

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