by Anjana Mazumdar
Hi! Mr. Bat, why are you crying? Were you also thrown away by your master?” Mr. Tinman asked me. I burst into tears and narrated him my sad story “Ah! Those were my golden days of childhood.
I was born in England. My father was one of the highly prized willow tree. It was seasoned for about a year before it was given to a master craftmen for chiselling into a fine bat.
Like sculptor he shaped raw wood into beautiful bats. With streamlined contours and curves, I was born into a beautiful but strong bat. I was well oiled and polished. I was finished with perfection. My head rose with pride when my manufacturer declared that I was one of his best creation, which was fit for a world class cricketer. I along with my three brothers was imported to India. I was thrilled with joy when I found that Kapil Dev had chosen me.
“Kapil Dev, the captain of Indian cricket team was most choosy about his bats. So I was given all the love and care. I still remember the day when I hit my first century for Kapil Dev. It was 12th march 1985 when I was playing against Pakistan. The excitement of the viewers was shattering. And then there was no stopping for me in the iron hands of Kapil. I tasted the sweet smell of success day after day.
The times were passing happily but these were to end one day. It was 12th July 1987. This was perhaps the worst day of my life. When Kapil Dev was practicing with all his might, he tried to hit the ball with corss bat. My bones shattered with a sound of crack.
Kapil was very sad to see my pathetic condition. With a heavy heart, he gave me to a young boy, Sachin who loved cricket. He was very fond of me and was always dreamt to wear the shoes of Kapil. Rather he aspired to play with the Kapil’s bat, so for him, it was a dream fulfilled. He loved me and thought it was a blessing from Kapil. Infact he was very proud of me. One day when he was practicing in the field my old body