Someone tell him not to go. Please?

Written on the occasion of Rahul Dravid’s retirement

Dear Rahul,

I do not know if you have ever been part of a pyramid at a Dahi Handi during your younger days. What I know and can say with conviction, though, is that, you have just gotten out of one. For little over fifteen years, you have always stood at the bottom of that pyramid, often alone, letting your shoulders bear the brunt of so many people climbing on them. Among them were lesser men, at times ones who were celebrated more than you were, but you chose to remain at that bottommost level, letting the world go gaga over the sight of someone else hitting that jackpot.

1996-97. Times when the “pay channel” concept made its way into our country. On that overcast June afternoon in London, our quaint little town in South India stopped receiving live feed. By the time it was back, you were walking back, no doubt dejected at not making it to that illustrious honours board. Ajit Agarkar did after that, Rahul. Disappointment lingered for almost a decade till that day arrived. And so, as you pumped your fists in the air and raised your bat, fifteen long years later, I felt a sense of revenge at that cable operator. No pay channel issues. Flat screen, High definition this time, I saw you display emotion, something which became increasingly rare over the second half of your career.

Talk of that Adelaide test keeps coming up, about 233 and 72. And Agarkar’s 6 for 41. That fourth afternoon, I remember how you changed the course of that test match with something that is not recalled that often. As Waugh and Martyn were taking that game away from India, you quite literally took it in your hands to make sure things were back on track. How you plucked that catch out of air’s grasp! Oh and that reminds me, what about that Moin Khan catch? And who better than Bill Lawry to describe it for us!

Benevolent as you have always been, you gave Ravi Shastri half of his India-have-won-a-famous-test-win-here moments. Man, what a day that was. That man, who pushed you down to number 6 at Kolkata, had to come down to applaud what was an unprecedented feat. Australia. Away. Victory. Keywords hitherto unused in any writing about Indian cricket. Moments like these, and there are many, keep eluding those who so loosely use “slow coach” and “boring” to describe you.

Someday, you will write an autobiography no, Rahul? We know limelight and publicity don’t mean much to you, but, as you so generously put it, the Indian cricket fan has made it a privilege for you to represent him. Won’t you be altruistic one last time? Selfish world, I know. Always picks a number for you to bat at, without asking you. Throws the ‘keeper’s gloves at you sometimes. There’s this story you might have heard, Rahul, about how a stone suffers so much pain as it endures a sculptor’s chisel for days, before it becomes a beautiful masterpiece. And once it does, the other stones, mere mortals now, stand in awe, filled with jealousy. You get the drift, right?

From that day when you creamed Dominic Cork and co., till date, you’ve ensured that timing is something we will always associate you with. Three hundreds in a 4-0 battering tempted you to travel Down Under one last time. Hard luck, silent return to India. I can think of so many people who would have called this press conference a month earlier. Dignified man that you are, you waited till those three sides completed that series. Timed to perfection. As you walk into that sunset, glorious one I still maintain, I’m glad Rajasthan Royals’ contract extends into this year’s IPL. This country and the fans that mean so much to you, will be there in numbers at all those stadia, as you raise that willow for us, for the last few times ever. Thanks for the memories, and thanks to Youtube, we’ll preserve them, in minds and hard disks, for a long time to come.

And about the autobiography, you’ll consider it,no?