Prologue - These are the first words that flashed in my mind, other than silence, in that not-so-unusual, yet historic evening. As he neared yet another century, in fact another century after a century, I found myself softly dabbing the tears dribbling down my cheeks. Not so much because there were people commenting on my emotional stability, but it hindered my sight; I wanted to see more of him.

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Being a member of the female clan, I am usually not suspected to be a sports freak. The moment I say something sensible with respect to any sport, even cricket (given that even a street dog in India can wax eloquent about slog sweep) for that matter, men snigger and observe, ‘you really know what you are talking about, eh?’ This does not put me off, because, many women I know discuss the vital statistics of a cricketer more than his batting/bowling statistics. This does not matter, if you really want to know.

So, what does, you may ask. “Hero worshipping.” This is a very feminine concept in itself. Correlating the opening paragraph and this might make an average male cricket fan laugh. However, I am not sure he understood what I actually meant. There is this concept of ‘Nayaka-Nayaki bhava,’ in qualified monism. It is a unique form of love, where the higher soul becomes the ‘supreme man’ and the rest are all categorized ‘women’ in general. Do you think hero-worshipping is any different?

So, why do we worship a fellow human being? Basically life is all about possibilities. We have only so many innate abilities. There are times when we lose despite our genuine efforts. But there are a few amongst us who swim against the current, they give us the mental strength to row swim our seas. Those, we term heroes.

Someone like Sachin Tendulkar, what does he do to us? He makes us think hard about writing about his greatness and achievements. He makes us think we can scale peaks if we stick to the basics. Or alternatively, we can create peaks and stand tall, even if we are 5’5. Just that?

When he first burst into the international scene in ‘89, the sheer unstoppability of his talent floored people. That is the mark of a mass-hero, the ones whom we project these days with a low angle shot. Like a true do-gooder hero, he thwarted the best with disdain with his WACA wonder, against Aussies. Well, be it the No.1 team or a new born, he just couldn’t stand the sight of ball and sent them vanishing with the wand in his hand.

Do not be fooled  by the number games. His’ is a story of blind love and unquestionable passion. The desire to qualify to the finals controlling the desert storm in Sharjah is enough to prove why he is deemed to be the chocolate hero of Indian cricket, perhaps World Cricket.

So yes, he is a magician, faithful lover, he can do anything he wants, we worshipped him. He proved how human he could be in the Chennai Test Match in ’99. The thought that a 26 year old man actually cried because he could not lead his team to a victory against the arch-rivals, even after a stunning century, touched a chord in our hearts. Then we knew, when heroes fail, they do with their heads up. However, the failures with pride, can they be termed failures?

Just when we thought, he goes on like a river, irrespective of the rest of the team’s contribution, he had another hurdle to cross. Continuing in the movie parlance, father sentiment. How easy is it to deal with an emotional trauma and play a game? Anyone else would have shrugged it off terming it downright funny. But the hero in him, chose to play out the Kenyans. Oh yes, he hit a century. We were in tears, in spite of winning.

Moving from one World Cup to the next. But for his advice  to study hard for the Public exams and his earnest assurance to perform well in the series, many of us would have committed suicide in utter frustration. Then came the famed March 1, 2003 match against Pakistan in Centurion. It is probably the most, oft appreciated, non-century innings by a player quoted as a test to see if this hormone called ‘adrenaline’ still exists in body. Hail the action hero.

Post-2003 World Cup, he decided to be a bit sedate, took his foot off ever so slightly from the accelerator and started being a ‘class-hero.’ May be he saw the movie stars leading the scenes despite running out of their shelf lives, he suddenly decided to act his age. Voila! a double century in Australia without a single stroke in cover region. That is when we discovered that there are male angels, and quite traditionally, they appear in whites.

Then on, every second match he plays, people say ‘Sachin broke that record,’ ‘Tendulkar created this record’ or some say ‘He is too selfish and plays for records,’ ‘Tendulkar or ENDulkar?’ Qualified indifference being the star trait of a war hero, he never quite bothers. We love him more for that. These days, being the oldest test cricketer still playing, amidst the talk of retirement, he carries the marathon torch of plain love for cricket. Double century in a one-day game is the recent reason to rant. Some call him a machine, some monumental, to me, he is a man. The heroic in man. The only man who can make the billion in India smile and shed tears, at his will. The Man of joy.