Sachin on 99!

And I looked at the score board once more. A trickle of sweat ran down my eyebrow and entered my eyes. I wiped that trickle off with my left glove. Now my eyes met with Sachin’s. He was at the non-striker’s end. He was a picture of contagious composure. A portrait of self assurance! That gave me a lot of confidence. Everyone knew what he was capable of doing. But my abilities were up for acid test. But somehow he standing at the other end gave me a lot of confidence. I knew I could do it. But for that final leap of faith, I needed him to be there. His presence was so calming. All the chills running down my spine were turned into momentary shivers. They came and went. I took my stance. Looked up again. It was my 165^th minute of waiting for another delivery. Bowler came charging in. He looked like a man on mission, a man possessed. Full toss! Minimal effort from my side and the ball was dispatched into the stand over the mid wicket boundary. I rocked my fists with Sachin’s. He smiled at me and didn’t say a thing. He had confidence in my abilities. He knew what I could do. He had seen me play and was sure that I will pull it off. His faith was the cornerstone of my growing confidence in what I was going to do tonight.

Second ball landed on good length and failed to bother me in thinking any other way. The ball landed 18 rows beyond the longest boundary on the ground. Our fists rocked again and he smiled again. But this time he said – “Good shot, well played!”

Third ball was sprayed down the leg and it took only a blink of my eyes to deposit it into the stands. This time I stood in the crease. Sachin applauded the shot by raising his bat and tapping his hand on it. The smile was difficult to get off his face. I was in my zone. I could just see people dancing in the stands. I couldn’t hear their shrieking cries. I could see the madness but couldn’t feel it. I was waiting for the next delivery. This time he bowled it short and wide. I picked it up on the rise and deposited deep into the stand behind third man. I knew the pitch and the pitch was getting to know me. Somehow I feel it had to happen. After all Sachin was there at the other end. It was the Master watching over me. How could I ever fail?

I didn’t care for the fifth delivery. I strode out, took the ball on the full, enticed the long on fielder for a second or two, but finally sent the ball where it deserved to go. There was no other place that ball was destined to go. Over long on boundary! How does it feel hitting 5 sixes in a row? Yuvraj Singh would have told me everything in detail. The anxiety in his brain, twirl in his stomach and the pride in his heart. But I wanted a date with these only after the sixth delivery. There was no room for failure. I had to do this. There’s no way out. I can’t let everyone down. I’m in the zone. I know I’m capable and I can do this. I could still see people dancing in the stands. They had gone berserk. This was pandemonium of deep love. A state where you forget everything. Someone would have called it euphoria. But this is way beyond that. I don’t seem to know what it is. But whatever it is, I know it’s because of me. It’s the dance of madness derived out of journey beyond expectations. I know I can’t fail. I can’t afford to fail. I can’t let these people down. See the joy on their faces. Will they settle for anything less? Will they be satisfied? Will they ever get to know what’s going in my mind? And does that really matter? I am supposed to play and am doing that. But why am I feeling that I can’t afford to fail?

A final look at the scoreboard. I close my eyes. Now I can hear them shouting in the stands. It’s getting louder each passing moment. I can even see their faces. Some ecstatic, some jeering. All painted with different colors. And the bowler runs in. He looks jaded – perhaps the effect of what happened in the last five deliveries. But he hasn’t given up yet. I look at Sachin for a moment. And he’s looking the other way. I can’t see his face or his eyes. His back faces me. What has happened all of a sudden? Ball is in mid air, hurtling towards me. Now faces surround me. They are shouting in my ears.

It’s a low full toss. I throw the kitchen’s sink at it. And the stadium goes silent. The ball has written its own destiny. It somehow evaded my bad and chose to kiss the middle stump. It lies uprooted on the ground. I look up and everyone’s gone. I am standing alone on the pitch. Where’s everyone? What about the people? And where’s Sachin? I call out his name. Someone taps me on my shoulder. I look at him. Sonu is ecstatic as he says – “Come! Sachin’s on 99!” I throw my blanket away and rush towards the guest room.