The relationship between celebrities and our lives is often complex, interwingled in a complex network of patrochial emotions, colour complexions and somethings, as trivial as sharing the same birth date or same star sign. Neither are these relationships eternal. Or maybe not. A section of people certainly shall overlook the darker shades and love them for what they have been loving them for.
Yet, more often than not, our idols are not loved for what they are more famous for. I love a certain genius called Sachin Ramesh Tendulkar. Or should I say loved?! Yes, I love Tendulkar for all those breath taking strokes which are beyond the realm of other immortals. The Tendulkar who scores centuries at his will inspires awe in me. Those brilliant stories of a teenaged Tendulkar getting hit by a Waqar bouncer and the warrior clinging on the match with blood on his face still evokes goosebumps in me. Did i forget the Sharjah blitz where he cut the likes of Glenn McGrath and Shane Warne to size? Yet, I loved him for something else.
Something that made me feel am him. Something which made me more elated than he was everytime he crossed the three figure mark! It was the distinct blur between the genius and the teenager on the street dreaming about wearing the indian colours which endeared him to me. The Indian middle class had finally its hero. I still remember the saasumas and bahuranis fighting about who the greatest batsman of alltime was? The Great Gavaskar or the then prodigy, Sachin Tendulkar.
It was not only the strokes and records which made him the favourite son of every Indian household. They were other players, the Laxmans and the Azhars who were a conniesseurs delight, the Dravids, the Robin Singhs who sweated and struggled and in some sense truly showed what sports was all about. There also came a certain Prince from Kolkata who brought passion into the game. The youth loved this man. The ones with more grey cells endorsed Dravid. For the artists, Laxman was what they watched cricket for. Yet, Tendulkar was what every mother wished his child was. By Tendulkar, I do not mean wading the bat like a wand. They wanted their sons to be Tendulkars of science, arts, history. Yet, unfailingly, this comparison is decietful. How easily we are trapped to thinking all they meant was being excellent in your profession?
The phenomenon of Tendulkar was much bigger. The middle class hero had finally arrived. He was mild mannered,yet he did not live in his shell. He did not go to the Bishops and the Baldwins! This lad went to the neighbhourhood Shradashram school. He made sure, his first coach earned the adulation he duly deserved. Ramakant Achre had become an household name. The teachers too loved him! Remember, in those days, sports idols was not something that was encouraged. The India in 90s didnt allow you to “stay hungry,stay foolish!”. In some ways, Sachin was a revolution. None of the guys who stormed into the Indian team had ever failed in their high school exam. Yet, Sachin was no rebel to the common man. To them, he was this son of a Marathi professor who went on to make India proud. None of those page 3 pictures for this man! He cried like a child when his dad passed away. Didnt have any of those fancy hairstyles or those wannabe tatoos in his hand. The only time, his photo came in the front pages when he wasnt in his warrior gear, coverd by the navy blue helmet with the Indian flag noticably on top was when he was receiving some award or made a visit to some temple. Yes, he was in some ways the Good Boy! And uncharacteristically, this good boy was not boring. Dravid too, very much the poster boy of Indian cricket. Yet, he was boring to most.
Most people would have chosen to ignore the news about Sachin's new 60 crore rupees mansion. For some reason, I cannot see the halo around Tendulkar anymore. Probably, the same news article with Vijay Mallya as the central character and I would have celebrated it. The show of opulance is not something that we have associated Tendulkar with. He was the middle class hero.
Perhaps, Was.
The search of the middle class messiah still continues....
