That Boy From Mumbai Poem by Padmanabhan Ananth

Image of the li'l boy in only Stretchlon shorts
Falling over his face, his long, curled locks
Brat's brave batting stance at home floor
In those tiny eyes, you could see balls of fire!

Just quit world cricket with these simple words
'End to career of 24 years between 22 yards! '
Beyond doubt he ran the farthest most
In that short distance between wickets.

This wonder boy from magical Mumbai
Say of him: where to start, where to halt?
In the great game of records, India's religion
He bested, bettered so many of them

In him integrity at game ever was highest
When thought he was out, field he quit
But he never at the crease plodded for runs
Always attacked bowlers to amass his tons

Modelled he did even for protein eggs
But declined any ad for intoxicating pegs
His duty-free Ferrari, some stray faults,
Or blames of his tons over team's wins?
But on/off field he ever a shining instance
Remained grounded even as he grabbed the stars

In facing pace bowlers, many an injury
Or diving to hold or halt the red cherry
His jersey '10' bled blue for his country
With white ball too, tons always aplenty

Bharat Ratna - a jewel of India, he truly is
Now from Elders' House, he'd fight for sports' cause
Great Don Bradman saw himself in Sachin
Many million Indians see Sachin in them!