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Happy birthday God ❤️ Thank you for inspiring so many to pick up the bat, who later became legends themselves.
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As I walked into the dressing room, I saw Virat drying the sacred thread on his hand with a towel.
He was too immersed in it to notice my arrival like the others, who stood up with respect. No matter how many times I told them to stop doing so, they never paid heed to me.
I knew they loved and respected me but there was absolutely no need to stand up each time they saw me but preaching to them is all vain.
'Virat, good morning.' I greeted him and sat next to him.
'Good morning Sachin pa, where's Mahi Bhai?' he asked.
'Mahi Bhai, Mahi Bhai all the time. Spend some time with us also.' I teased him and he let out an embarrassed smile.
'I love you also Sachin pa.' he confessed in a low tone with his head still bent low and I could see the tip of his ears get red due to shyness.
He began playing with the thread on his hand and I asked him about it.
'This is my father's. He gave it to me, so having this on my hand feels like he's by my side.' he confessed.
It wasn't very long since the incident happened and I've read about that in the newspaper back then and since then I've admired his devotion towards the game.
It's not always about the talent or the hardwork but the priority that one gives to the game over such important events in life.
'We won't be able to replace him ever but we'll be beside whenever you need it, and behind you when you don't.' I told him, holding his hand between mine.
