Dear Prudence,
People are so abundant in emotions that you often see them uniting over great things and great events, no one’s afraid to shy away in stating how they feel, or recollecting some sacred moment from their childhood, and since there’s a platform to share it these days, you just can’t look away from the abundant goodness of so many people. All of them feeling sad together, about the end of an era.
Well, with the cornucopia of farewell letters that’s coming up for Sachin Ramesh Tendulkar, or the set of sweet epiphanies people are having about growing up, it all seems a little dulcifying and encouraging to me, that people still bond over great things and great people, that there’s still a set of sweet people out there, who could save the world with feelings, perhaps.
Then there are people like me who slept all day, draped in woolens, thinking just another shitty day had gone by, indifferent to the warmth that lures another thousand beings, of events that will come and go, of people that will die. It’s another grey winter after all.
But hey, the sweet people knows that in India it’s always summer, because no matter how the Brits ruined us they couldn’t leave their winter here, they left cricket instead, one bat and one ball and many little dreams.
And thus years later, in the land of many gods, one god was made, who could bring all of them together.
Perhaps that’s why these people are all sad and teary, perhaps because they all want to believe in a tender greatness of the man, who with a little editing here and there, has been nearest to them all.
The fact that they feel so greatly about greatness, is a toast to humanity itself, a toast to these people who are great in their own way. I wish I could feel like them, but then I will try.
‘Here’s to Sachin Tendulkar, and two decades of filling up the vacant spaces.
And making a winter’s day, a little like
Summer.’
People are so abundant in emotions that you often see them uniting over great things and great events, no one’s afraid to shy away in stating how they feel, or recollecting some sacred moment from their childhood, and since there’s a platform to share it these days, you just can’t look away from the abundant goodness of so many people. All of them feeling sad together, about the end of an era.
Well, with the cornucopia of farewell letters that’s coming up for Sachin Ramesh Tendulkar, or the set of sweet epiphanies people are having about growing up, it all seems a little dulcifying and encouraging to me, that people still bond over great things and great people, that there’s still a set of sweet people out there, who could save the world with feelings, perhaps.
Then there are people like me who slept all day, draped in woolens, thinking just another shitty day had gone by, indifferent to the warmth that lures another thousand beings, of events that will come and go, of people that will die. It’s another grey winter after all.
But hey, the sweet people knows that in India it’s always summer, because no matter how the Brits ruined us they couldn’t leave their winter here, they left cricket instead, one bat and one ball and many little dreams.
And thus years later, in the land of many gods, one god was made, who could bring all of them together.
Perhaps that’s why these people are all sad and teary, perhaps because they all want to believe in a tender greatness of the man, who with a little editing here and there, has been nearest to them all.
The fact that they feel so greatly about greatness, is a toast to humanity itself, a toast to these people who are great in their own way. I wish I could feel like them, but then I will try.
‘Here’s to Sachin Tendulkar, and two decades of filling up the vacant spaces.
And making a winter’s day, a little like
Summer.’
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