Gods Don't Fail

Indian flags fluttering all over,

Scattered among an ocean of fans;

High held praises like the trumpet bleep,

Were the only voices; I did ever hear,

To welcome the god ascend at the Wankhede fields.

 

Donned on a jocund schoolboy spirit,

He stepped there swinging and stroking in style;

Striding his way to the central stumps,

No wonder! If cricket made a religion

Let none be the lord, but Sachin Tendulkar.

 

Though 16 or 40, his charm is all the same;

Crashing records that would ever remain.

Smiling greatness belongs to his unique self,

The lone legend with a heart so true,

Would ever be a pride to the men in blue.

 

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Failures adorned his hard tenure,

Yet, throughout his lifetime he did endure.

Unshaken by bowlers with the daring show;

He stood there pecking with his MRF strike,

Punishing the ball to a ruthless blow.

The dust settled letting the windies down,

Yet, only praise filled the moaning breeze;

Leaving a drop crawl- down his gentle cheek;

In profound honor and humble speech,

He finally bid adieu to his winning streak.

 

Sachin Tendulkar shall never be gone,

And his fame needn't be spoken about,

As we see them spread and covering the skies.

This last run ceases but success prevail;

As "gods don't retire" & "gods don't fail"