The People's Sachin

‘The People’s Princess’ initially started off as a radio play drawing parallels between two royal weddings and divorces – those between George IV and Caroline of Brunswick and then more recently, Prince Charles and Diana. The play itself focused on the nature of the divorce, the media’s role in each saga and the effect it had on the perception of the monarchy from the point of view of the British working class. The biggest impact the show had, however, was to firmly associate the People’s princess tag with Diana to such an extent that it continues to follow her until today, many years after her tragic death.

This can happen with some public figures – in some cases a result of clever PR used to ingratiate them with the masses, and in other cases via a series of (sometimes unfortunate) events, a bit of the extraordinary and sometimes with a slice of luck – they become icons. Throw over a billion people with a penchant for the romantic, sometimes bordering on the insane, and this icon hood can turn into quite an uneasy crown to wear. Of course, Sachin Tendulkar has worn it now for over two decades. Most recently, Greg Chappel, who had a rather uneasy relationship with Sachin and a majority of the Indian team, spoke about the regret he feels about not being able to have understood his pressures better at the time. These pressures have been spoken of ad infinitum, without much thought into what it means for him, or the fans.

Much like any public company, cricket loving Indian fans feel a sense of ownership towards Sachin. They haven’t invested any money into a share of him of course; what they have invested is their time and emotional energies. Speaking as one such “shareholder” myself, it is safe to say that we all have our personal memories of Sachin, much as we would of our favorite birthday present, or the best dinner we’ve ever had. We’ve all been guilty of crossing that thin line between admiration and possessiveness, albeit unknowingly. The Sachin that we see belongs as much to himself and those who know him as he does to us. Those pulled sixes off Kasprowicz, that other pulled six off Caddick, his lonely walk back after holing out off Saqlain in that test match in Chennai – we all think our treasure trove of Sachin goodies is different and better than anyone else’s. Everyone has a Sachin. Everyone. My Sachin may not be the same as Your Sachin. We are all like those blind men trying to feel their way around the elephant and taking away our own versions.

Cricket has always been the only sport that has had its hand on India’s pulse, but all of the cricketing stars before the 80’s have been reduced to anecdotes, sepia-tinted photographs and the occasional sound byte in the newspapers. It was television that brought them into every living room like never before, and the 90’s ushered in the opening of the markets and freedom from the post colonial hangover that led to a nation wanting poster boys. A young prodigy named Sachin fulfilled that void perfectly. His entire career has been played in front of a television camera – right from the time an awkward looking Sachin in ill fitting trousers was interviewed by Tom Alter at Shivaji Park up until the time when he was lifted on Yusuf Pathan’s broad shoulders and paraded around the Wankhede in front of 33,000 adoring supporters in the flesh and millions of others watching on their TV sets. We all know of every action he makes – the little nod of the head before he goes out to bat, the way he adjusts his crotch before taking guard, and the neat little right-wrist-over-left flick-off-the-pads as the ball rolls down to the square leg boundary before the bowler has finished his follow through. It’s like a reality-show that’s been on air for over 20 years. And it still draws as many eyeballs as the latest YouTube sensation.

It’s almost that everything that has happened before this has been prologue. The wait for that 100^th 100 is palpable. You can sense it in the air every time he walks out to bat. The monkey on his back is real. And it is only getting bigger and slightly more comfortable on his back the longer it takes for it to come. The media have played the Jekyll & Hyde role perfectly here – goading the frenzied fans to demand it on one hand, and chastising them for being unreasonable on the other. And yet, it comes back to the obsessive possessive Sachin disorder, if you could call it that. They want it for themselves, as much as they want it for him.

It hasn’t been done before and judging by the crowds in attendance at test matches these days, coupled with the mad lust for T20, it is unlikely that this record will ever be broken. The Man Himself has come out and spoken about how this milestone is just a number, but even he must know deep within that the only way to stop the madness is by getting one hundred runs in an innings. The fascination for milestones and numbers is too deep rooted in the Indian psyche and the masses are not going to collectively transform overnight. The way the drama is being played out right now, it is almost akin to a blood-thirsty mod willing a Roman Gladiator to plant the dagger into a poor victim’s gut and get it over with. They can’t wait for it anymore.

It is likely that when the time actually comes – surely, it is only a question of when– those that are present to witness it live will tell their grandchildren stories of how they watched him score his hundredth in the flesh with more enthusiasm than Sachin himself is likely to tell his grandkids about how he scored it. And once it’s done, maybe the monkey will be off his back. But then that’s what we thought when a World Cup sized monkey got off his back. I fear there will be some sort of burden that Sachin will have to bear until the day he hangs up his boots. He is, after all, the People’s Sachin.