Oh Little Master Blaster whose effort yesterday went in vain...
I write this poem requesting you to wipe out a small stain.
As I am debating here between ecstasy and pain...
Your inning was the main, but eventually the match gave us no gain.
From the day you hit those sixes off
Abdul Khadir,
We knew you would be Indian cricket's modern day father.
And in
New Zealand when you went behind the leather,
We knew any storm you could help us weather...
Against
Warne the famous paddle sweep,
In
Chennai and
Sharjah when the targets where steep.
Against
Akhtar and
Murali you had us leap...
And made the opponent bowlers and the captains weep!
I have defended you with gusto many a time,
Even when there was no reason or rhyme...
Fighting tooth and nail, I did not give a dime...
Until it seemed as though you were going past your prime.
Over the years when you neared your hundred,
Amidst the shouting as the whole stadium thundered!
You used to take your own sweet time lest you blundered,
As everyone sitting around grudgingly wondered...
Even when
Dravid won more matches than you,
The blind joy and faith waited for something to chew.
One big 4th inning overseas win from you was due,
But it never came as happy moments outside were far and few.
Last year, when people asked you to retire...
You came back with more fire.
Australia and England were objects of your ire,
Winning matches showed us you never tire!
Despite all your records and holding the nation together for 20 years...
When you getting out, more than death, is what every grandmom fears.
Your every shot or wicket the entire nation hears...
Defeat when we could have won because of you plunges us into tears.
So
Sachin, please take us to victory every time even though our wish might be flawed,
Despite all these trivialities we continue to be awed.
Cause we know you are specially created by the Lord...
You will always be India's universally worshipped cricket God...
From a Fan...
