Yet another duck

Dada has done it again. Whenever I think of the Prince, the Bengal Tiger, and his present state of hopelessness with the bat, I feel a little sorry for this guy.

Remember the times when we were almost certain that a boundary would be scored in the first over of every math? Remember the days when we were hoping that he would give India a quick start? Remember the beautiful innings at Brisbane? Remember that we were sure that there was a six everytime he came down the track to a spinner? Remember the innings against Sri Lanka during the WC '99 where he notched his highest individual score (183), put up the highest pertnership with Rahul Dravid, and helped India reach the highest ever score (373)?

Just look at him today. It seems he has forgotten to even hold the bat. Where has the sweetness in his timing gone? Where has the confidence with which he swung his bat at a good length ball? What he is today is just a shadow of his former self.

I wonder what will be going through his mind. Just think for a moment. Put yourself in his shoes, not as a captain, but as a brilliant strokemaker, and think. What would you feel? What would you feel to be like a fading light? Would it hurt you? How would the days of brilliance haunt you? I suppose, the wheels of time never fails us to take from top to bottom. One moment you are on cloud nine, and the next you ar at rock bottom. How would you take the two opposites? Is it possible for one to treat the two as if they were the same? Is it possible to maintain the equanimity?

Just ponder over.....as I have.