Little Master, big feat I

From the outset, it has merely been a matter of correcting the bad habits that creep in the moment the brain sleeps. His strokes are played with a bat somehow broader and straighter than any other, and his feet seem to move effortlessly into position. It is enough to watch him defend. Yet he does not disdain flourish, rejoices in the sudden crack past point or the nonchalant flick off his pads, strokes that thrill the crowd.

But it goes beyond facts and figures, style, sportsmanship and masterly innings, or else others could join him in his isolated acclaim. Tendulkar has been the hero his country needed. Indians spend billions of dollars every year trying to lighten their skins. Advertisements for the appropriate creams are shown between overs. India knows that its film stars have not crossed cultural lines. Booker Prize winners cannot inspire a nation half as well as the sight of a demonstrably brown boy repeatedly cracking feared bowling around. It was his combination of aggression and productivity that defined him. And he has been untarnished by scandal. Read the papers in India. They are all about corruption and communal agitation and political disputes. Impoverished India yearns for a champion. Its gods are exotic, its films are escapist and its batsman is a conqueror. Affluent India is another matter, and might one day put cricket in its place.

Tendulkar has uplifted lives. He has not railed against colonialism but has instead inspired his countrymen by deed alone. Supporters cherish his introductory masterpieces, daring and almost cheeky, his hundreds scored in adversity, notably in Birmingham and Melbourne, and his later more restrained efforts. It is idiotic to expect a man to be the same at 35 as at 16. Maturity has a beauty of its own, and is not to be avoided.

They remember his superb strokes, resounding straight drives, hooks and the back-foot punches past point that tell him everything is in its proper place, and his duels with Wasim Akram, Shane Warne and Brett Lee.

Now comes the greatest reassurance of them all. Sometime during the Test match starting in the Punjab today, Tendulkar will surely collect the 15 runs need to become Test cricket's highest scorer. Ordinarily, the number of runs a player scores is not regarded as definitive. Apart from skill, the amassing of vast career tallies requires an ability to avoid injury, war and whim. But runs are hard earned in Test cricket, besides which longevity can be as much a bane as a boon. All the more reason to respect this record for it tells a tale of many things, the boy who grew up before our eyes, the batsman who survived everything the bowlers or life could send his way.

All things considered Tendulkar stands above his contemporaries. For all his fortitude, Steve Waugh was in a lower league, and never imagined otherwise. Lara was dazzling but also destructive. At his best, the Trinidadian was supreme but he toyed with his talent. Vanity and selfishness lingered too long in his character. Viv Richards was explosive but also erratic. Brilliant in his 20s, he did not age as well as the Indian. The West Indies barely survived his anger. It is too early to place Kevin Pietersen.

Tendulkar may be in decline but he has been a champion for 20 years. He has had more on his shoulders than any contemporary and has remained intact. Oh yes, and he has scored a few runs along the way, and given immense pleasure to millions of people, Indian and otherwise.