When exactly you came in my life, I don’t remember.
All I do remember is how slowly, eventually I started admiring you. Every time
I saw you, you were in those same clothes inside that same box.
I started to admire you as I began to understand your
work. There were many who admired you back then, and there are many now. People
talked about you fondly. They had respect for your job and your excellence at
your work.
You did falter at times, but I always believed that it
was just not a good day. I captured every glimpse, kept a part of every appearance
in my small note book. Your silent face and subtle smile, had captured my
heart.
When I grew a bit more independent, I attempted to get
into the box to have a closer look. But you were in center of the box and I realized
that I could probably not be inside the box.
One morning I read that you were getting married. My
heart shrunk. But what could I do, I couldn’t have stopped you, I was a child
and you were out of my reach.
My best moment came when I met you. Just for a moment,
when you appeared amongst all the lights and camera and shook my hand. An
autograph from you made me day (actually week).
Slowly, eventually I understood. Probably that’s about
growing up. You reduced your responsibilities, resulting in lesser appearances.
A few days back you were in discussion once again.
They said that it was your last appearance. The discussed your clothes, that blue jersey of Indian Cricket team. They call you “The wall” and they cheer for you “Dravid”.
All I want to tell you that we will miss your
appearance in that box, the so called “idiot box”. Many of us really had a big time
crush on you.
