Growing up with Sachin Tendulkar - How my childhood ended with his retirement

I was 19.

A-levels were done; oh, what a terrible experience that was. But it was over. I remember partying with my friends and watching the Asia Cup game between Bangladesh and India.

How the times had changed. The first time I watched Tendulkar play, I was still drinking milk; and here I was now, drinking religiously-forbidden drinks – an act a religiously-conscious me now deeply regrets – and watching the game between my motherland and India.

A certain cliché had developed by now – that whenever Tendulkar scored a 100, India lost. Further fuel was added to that fire when Tendulkar’s 100th 100 went in vain as Bangladesh beat India to create history. I was chuffed to see my nation win, but a bit sad to see the Little Master’s biggest milestone innings go without reward.

I could never have predicted, at that point, that it would be his penultimate innings in a One Day International game. I never could have, even in my wildest dreams, thought of cricket – especially One Dayers – without Tendulkar.

But here we were.

I was 21 – the end of childhood.

Life had changed dramatically. I never believed in love and the connection of two souls. Romance seemed like a fancy word to me used by people who liked to waste time. But now, I was in love and I realized how stupid I was to have such an opinion; for it is something we can’t control, it just happens.

The worst part, however, was that I couldn’t, at that time, express my feelings to the other side…and as if this pain wasn’t enough, my father had a stroke – putting me in a state of delirium.

While my father was battling for his life, more misery was pounded on me – and this time it was by Sachin Tendulkar. He announced his retirement. Just like that, it had ended. I wasn’t sure of what sinful act I had committed to fall in such a state of adversity, but the day he ended his career, a part of me died.

The farewell entry

Every person represents a world; every person has a world of his own. I have my world and Tendulkar was a huge part of it....that day, a part of that world was wiped out. That world had crashed – like so many other worlds across the globe.

My mother and my father had always taught me to be humble, to never let ego infect me. They, however, never told me how to be and stay humble. Tendulkar showed me that. Tendulkar taught me how to not let ego creep inside me.

Some years prior to his retirement, one of my cousins asked me what I would wish if God granted me three wishes. I told him that I would at first wish for my parents' good health, then I would wish for Tendulkar and Raul Gonzalez to play till the end of this Earth, and my final wish would be for me to live till the end of time so that I could see them play.

Alas, not all wishes come true.

The thought of Tendulkar retiring used to bring tears to my eyes, but now that time had come – and I wept like a child during his farewell speech. There are very few people who can say that they didn’t.

That particular day, I lost one of the reasons to live. Whenever I had a bad day or bad time, I used to think that at least there's Tendulkar's batting to look forward to. One of the powers which let me wake up in the morning – made me open my eyes in the morning – was Tendulkar. When I had nothing, I had Tendulkar.

But now all that remained was his memories canvased in highlight reels and in the films of my mind. My childhood was finally over.