Date: November 18, 2013
Location: The Taj Mahal Palace Hotel, Colaba, Mumbai
Event: Private BCCI Farewell Dinner for Sachin Tendulkar
The Wankhede Stadium had been the site of the public goodbye. It was where the tears were shed, the speeches were broadcast to a billion people, and the heavy, crushing weight of history was acknowledged.
But tonight, forty-eight hours after the emotional exhaustion of the final Test match, the atmosphere was entirely different.
The Board of Control for Cricket in India (BCCI) had rented out the spectacular, sea-facing Crystal Room at the Taj Mahal Palace Hotel in Colaba. The instructions for the evening were incredibly strict: absolutely no media, no politicians, no corporate sponsors, and no Bollywood celebrities.
This was a private, closed-door dinner. The guest list was restricted exclusively to the current Indian national squad, former teammates who had shared the dressing room with him over the last two decades, the coaching staff, and Sachin's immediate family and childhood friends.
It was a sanctuary for the brotherhood of cricket.
Siddanth Deva stepped out of the hotel elevator on the first floor. He wore a tailored, dark charcoal sports jacket over a crisp black shirt, paired with dark trousers.
He walked down the quiet, plushly carpeted corridor. The muffled sound of laughter and clinking glasses drifted from behind the heavy mahogany doors of the banquet hall. He pushed the heavy doors open and stepped inside.
The Crystal Room was bathed in a warm, golden glow from the massive chandeliers overhead. It didn't look like a formal gala. There were no assigned seating arrangements or stiff, round dining tables. Instead, plush leather sofas, high-top bar tables, and comfortable armchairs were scattered around the room, encouraging everyone to mingle freely.
At the far end of the room, massive floor-to-ceiling windows offered a breathtaking view of the Gateway of India and the dark, rippling waters of the Arabian Sea.
As he stepped into the plush, warmly lit lounge, Siddanth took a moment to simply absorb the incredible, relaxed atmosphere, genuinely enjoying the rare sight of his idols just acting like normal people.
To his left, Anil Kumble, Rahul Dravid, and VVS Laxman were standing in a circle, laughing at something Sourav Ganguly was animatedly explaining with his hands. It was the legendary 'Class of the 2000s' completely reunited.
Near the buffet, the current squad was huddled together. Virat Kohli, Rohit Sharma, Shikhar Dhawan, and Ravindra Jadeja were currently engaged in a deep, highly serious conversation with a fourteen-year-old Arjun Tendulkar, Sachin's son, offering the young left-arm fast bowler highly unsolicited and probably terrible advice.
And in the absolute center of the room, looking more relaxed than Siddanth had seen him in years, was Sachin Tendulkar.
He was wearing a simple, comfortable blazer, holding a glass of sparkling water, and laughing heartily with his wife, Anjali and his best friend Vinod Kambli. The heavy, suffocating armor of 'The God of Cricket' had been entirely shed. Tonight, he was just Sachin.
Siddanth walked over to the current squad, smoothly rescuing Arjun from Virat's intense fast-bowling tutorial.
"Don't listen to a word Virat says about bowling, Arjun," Siddanth announced, clapping Virat on the shoulder. "He officially has the worst bowling action in international cricket. It looks like a frog trying to swim."
"I have a very deceptive medium-pace action, Sid," Virat defended himself with a grin, taking a sip of his drink. "It confuses the batsmen."
"It confuses everyone, including yourself," Rohit Sharma quipped from a nearby armchair, earning a loud laugh from Dhawan.
Siddanth smiled, turning his attention to the young teenager. "Don't try to copy anyone's action, Arjun, and don't worry about the name on the back of your jersey. Just find your own natural rhythm," Siddanth told the young left-arm pacer genuinely. "And listen, if you ever want any advice on your bowling in the future, just give me a call. My door is always open for you."
Arjun smiled and nodded appreciatively. "Thanks, Siddanth bhaiya."
"It's a good vibe tonight. No cameras. No stress," Siddanth noted, grabbing a glass of water from a passing waiter.
"It's exactly what Paaji needed," MS Dhoni said, appearing beside them, dressed in a simple, sharp grey shirt. The Indian captain looked remarkably at peace, observing the room. "The last three days have been emotionally draining for him and his family. Tonight is just about celebrating the man behind the runs."
A soft chime resonated through the room as someone repeatedly tapped a spoon against a glass.
The ambient chatter slowly died down.
Standing near a small, raised wooden platform at the front of the room was Harbhajan Singh. The fiery off-spinner, known as one of the biggest pranksters in the history of the Indian dressing room, had a microphone in his hand and a massive, mischievous grin on his face.
Next to him stood Yuvraj Singh, equally grinning, holding a second microphone.
"Alright, alright, settle down everyone!" Harbhajan called out, his booming Punjabi accent echoing through the speakers. "We all cried enough at the stadium two days ago. I saw some of you fast bowlers bawling like babies, I won't name names—Ishant, Zaheer, I'm looking at you."
The room erupted in laughter as Zaheer Khan playfully threw a napkin at Harbhajan from across the room.
"Tonight is about the stories the cameras never got to see," Yuvraj Singh chimed in, leaning into his mic. "The stories of a man who terrified the greatest bowlers in the world, but was absolutely terrified of a bad room service menu."
Sachin laughed, shaking his head and burying his face in his hands, knowing exactly where this was going. Anjali patted his back, thoroughly enjoying her husband's misery.
"I think we need to start with the former captains," Harbhajan announced, gesturing toward the group of legends standing near the bar. "Dada. Sourav Ganguly. Please, come up here and tell these young boys what it was actually like to share a hotel room with this man in the nineties."
Sourav Ganguly didn't need to be asked twice. The former captain walked up to the platform, taking the microphone from Yuvraj, a wicked smile spreading across his face.
"You all see the flawless straight drives," Ganguly began, looking directly at Siddanth, Virat, and the younger generation. "You see the discipline. But let me tell you about the nightmare of rooming with Sachin Tendulkar on an overseas tour."
Ganguly paced the small stage, his comedic timing impeccable.
"It's 1997. We are in South Africa. I am exhausted after fielding all day. I finally manage to fall asleep around midnight. Suddenly, at 2:30 AM, I hear this loud THWACK. THWACK. THWACK."
Ganguly animatedly mimed holding a cricket bat.
"I wake up in a panic, thinking someone has broken into the room. I turn on the lamp. And there is Sachin, standing in front of the full-length mirror in his pajamas, holding a cricket bat, intensely shadow-practicing his forward defensive block in the dead of the night."
The entire room burst into roars of laughter.
"I said to him, 'Sachin, what are you doing? It is two-thirty in the morning! Allan Donald is not bowling to you right now! Go to sleep!'" Ganguly recounted, wiping a tear of mirth from his eye. "And you know what he said? He didn't even look at me. He just kept his eyes on the mirror and said, 'Dada, my bat grip feels two millimeters too thick. I need to fix the tape before the match tomorrow.' He spent the next hour re-taping his bat handle while I shoved pillows over my ears!"
Sachin was laughing so hard he had to lean against Vinod Kambli for support.
"And that is the secret to one hundred international centuries, boys," Ganguly concluded, pointing to the current squad. "Absolute, terrifying, sleep-depriving obsession. We will never see another one like him."
The room erupted in applause as Ganguly handed the mic to VVS Laxman.
"Sourav talks about the obsession, but let me tell you about the superstitions," Laxman smiled gently. "Sachin had this unbreakable rule: he always put his left pad on first. Always. Once, before a crucial match, a new kit man accidentally handed him the right pad first. Paaji practically had a mild panic attack. He made everyone freeze, took the pad off, walked out of the dressing room, walked back in, and restarted his entire pre-match routine from scratch just to appease the cricket gods!"
As the laughter subsided, Virender Sehwag casually strolled up to the stage, taking the microphone from Laxman. He looked completely at ease, offering his trademark, relaxed grin.
"VVS talks about superstitions, but let me tell you about batting with him," Sehwag began, pointing a finger directly at Sachin. "Paaji would come down the pitch, tap my gloves, and say, 'Viru, the ball is swinging, the pitch is doing a lot, play carefully. Let's just take singles and see off the fast bowlers.' I would nod and say 'Yes, Paaji. Absolutely.'"
Sehwag threw his hands up in the air. "The very next over, he would step out and hit Glenn McGrath straight over his head for a massive six!"
The room howled with laughter.
"I used to stand at the non-striker's end thinking, 'If the pitch is so incredibly difficult, how are you hitting sixes into the stands?'" Sehwag laughed, shrugging his shoulders. "So I just decided to stop listening to his advice and start hitting them too!"
Anil Kumble stepped up next, his tall frame leaning into the microphone with a warm, nostalgic smile.
"For me, the most frustrating thing wasn't his batting," Kumble chuckled, looking directly at the fast bowlers and spinners in the room. "It was his bowling."
Kumble shook his head, looking fondly at Sachin. "I was the premier spinner of the team, trying to practice seriously in the nets. Sachin would walk in, grab the ball, and bowl a perfect leg-break that turned a mile. Then a googly. Then a seaming off-cutter. He would look at me and say, 'Anil, why aren't you turning it that much?'"
The current bowlers in the room—Ashwin, Ishant, and Siddanth—all burst into loud laughter, perfectly understanding the frustration.
"He genuinely believed he was a better bowler than all of us," Kumble smiled broadly, "and the worst part was, half the time, he actually was."
While the legends were sharing their stories and the room was chuckling, Rohit Sharma casually leaned over and tapped Siddanth on the shoulder.
"Sid," Rohit whispered, a look of profound, lazy distress on his face. "I completely forgot where I left my suit jacket. And my hotel room key was in the pocket."
Siddanth just looked at the Mumbai batsman, shaking his head in sheer disbelief at his teammate's legendary forgetfulness. He gestured to Shikhar Dhawan standing nearby, who had to quietly slip away from the crowd to help Rohit retrace his steps and find his keys in the middle of the party.
Up on the stage, Rahul Dravid took the microphone next. Unlike the boisterous humor of the previous speakers, 'The Wall' brought a quiet, profound reverence to the room.
"You all talk about the obsession and the skill, but I want to talk about the humility," Dravid said softly, his intelligent eyes scanning the room. "When I made my debut at Lord's in 1996, Sachin was already a global superstar. He was the captain. I was just a nervous kid from Bangalore. I remember walking into the dressing room, feeling completely out of place."
Dravid looked affectionately at Sachin.
"He didn't act like a superstar. He walked right up to me, handed me a cup of tea, and asked me if I needed any extra grips for my bat. For the next five years, whenever we batted together and the pressure was suffocating, he would walk down the pitch, tap my gloves, and say, 'Just watch the ball, Jammy. I'll handle the run rate.' He absorbed the pressure of a billion people so that the rest of us could play with freedom. That is true greatness."
A warm, respectful applause filled the Crystal Room. Siddanth felt a deep sense of resonance with Dravid's words. The role of the anchor, the protector of the dressing room—it was the exact same philosophy Siddanth actively employed with Virat, Rohit, and Dhawan.
Finally, MS Dhoni walked up to the small stage, taking the microphone. The current captain was never one for long speeches.
"When I was a ticket collector in Kharagpur, I used to watch him bat on a small TV in the railway quarters," Dhoni said, his voice calm and deeply sincere. "When I became the captain of India, people asked me how difficult it was to manage a dressing room full of legends, especially Sachin Tendulkar."
Dhoni smiled, looking at the man who had played under his captaincy to win the 2011 World Cup.
"It was the easiest job in the world," Dhoni stated simply. "Because he never let his ego enter the dressing room. He carried the water bottles for the junior players when he was injured. He suggested field placements without ever undermining my authority. Paaji, you made my job easy because the whole country was so busy watching you, they let the rest of us play in peace. Thank you for everything."
The room gave Dhoni a massive round of applause.
As Dhoni stepped down, Harbhajan Singh and Yuvraj Singh reclaimed the stage.
"Alright, enough crying!" Harbhajan announced, waving his hands. "Dada, Jammy, Mahi... you guys made it too serious! This is a Punjabi-approved party! We need some music!"
Yuvraj grinned, looking down at the current squad. "We all know Paaji loves two things in this world more than anything else. Eating spicy seafood, and listening to old Kishore Kumar songs."
"And trust me, playing with Sachin meant you never got to choose your own dinner," Yuvraj joked, pointing a finger at the crowd. "If Paaji found out there was a good Japanese sushi place or a coastal crab joint forty miles away, he would literally hijack the team bus and make all of us eat there, even if we just wanted a pizza."
Sachin's eyes lit up with amusement at the mention of his food habits.
"Now, Bhajji and I are terrible singers," Yuvraj confessed, pulling a mock-sad face. "But we have it on very good authority that the current Indian dressing room has some hidden talent. Virat! Siddanth! Get up here!"
Virat Kohli's eyes widened in sheer panic. "What? No! Yuvi bhai, I sound like a dying cat!"
"Get up here before I tell everyone what happened in the hotel lobby in Dambulla!" Yuvraj threatened into the microphone, causing the entire room to cheer and whistle.
Virat immediately surrendered, aggressively shaking his head as he walked up to the stage. Siddanth just chuckled, shaking his head at the sheer absurdity of the situation, and followed his Delhi teammate onto the wooden platform.
A small, live acoustic band—a guitarist and a keyboardist hired for ambient background music—quickly adjusted their setup, taking a cue from Harbhajan.
Harbhajan handed a microphone to Virat and another to Siddanth.
"You guys know the words to 'Tere Jaisa Yaar Kahan'?" Harbhajan asked quietly.
"The Yaarana song? Yeah, I know it," Siddanth nodded, entirely unbothered.
"I know the chorus," Virat muttered nervously, gripping the mic.
"Perfect. Just follow the music," Yuvraj smiled, stepping back.
The guitarist began playing the iconic, soulful opening chords of the legendary Kishore Kumar track. The beautiful, nostalgic melody instantly hushed the room. It was the ultimate anthem of friendship and brotherhood in Indian cinema.
Virat took a deep breath, looked at Sachin, and began the first verse.
"Tere jaisa yaar kahan... kahan aisa yaarana..."
Virat's voice wasn't professional, and he missed a note, but the sheer, genuine heart he put into the lyrics made the entire room smile. He sang the next line, his eyes locked onto the man who had been his idol since childhood.
"Yaad karegi duniya... tera mera afsana..."
As the chorus approached, Virat gestured to Siddanth, visibly relieved to hand the vocal duties over.
"Meri zindagi sawaari, mujhko gale laga ke...
Baitha diya falak pe, mujhe khaat se ootha ke..."
The entire banquet hall went dead silent in absolute surprise.
Siddanth hit the notes with flawless precision, the warmth of the Kishore Kumar classic rolling beautifully over the acoustic guitar chords.
Anjali Tendulkar's eyes went wide. She leaned over to Sachin. "My god, he can actually sing."
Sachin was smiling from ear to ear, his hands resting on his knees, completely captivated by the tribute.
Even Virat Kohli lowered his microphone, staring at his teammate in pure, unadulterated shock. "Is there literally anything you can't do, Sid?" Virat muttered off-mic, shaking his head.
Siddanth ignored him, his eyes finding the legendary veterans in the room—Dravid, Laxman, Ganguly, Sehwag, and finally Sachin. He sang the final, poignant lines of the chorus, his voice thick with genuine respect for the brotherhood that tied them all together across generations.
"Yaara teri yaari ko... maine toh khuda maana...
As Siddanth reached the final, deep note, allowing it to fade out perfectly with the acoustic guitar, a soft, familiar voice joined in from the crowd. Sachin, who usually shied away from the spotlight at parties, leaned forward in his armchair and quietly sang the very last line along with them.
"Yaad karegi duniya... tera mera afsana."
It brought a genuine, tearful smile to the faces of veterans like Dravid and Ganguly. Then, the Crystal Room erupted into a standing ovation.
Yuvraj and Harbhajan were whistling loudly. MS Dhoni was clapping, a massive grin on his face. Sachin stood up from his armchair, clapping his hands together, visibly deeply moved by the classic tribute.
Siddanth smiled, handing the microphone back to Harbhajan and stepping off the stage with Virat, blending back into the crowd as the ambient music returned.
As the night progressed and the dinner buffet was finally opened, the formal structure of the evening completely dissolved into relaxed, joyous mingling.
Siddanth stood near the edge of the room, holding a glass of water, taking in the scene. The era of the Little Master had officially, beautifully come to an end. But looking around the room at the players laughing and sharing stories with the legends who had paved the way, the future of Indian cricket had never felt more deeply rooted or secure.
---
Poll
Should Deva Mentor Arjun Tendulkar?
Yes
No