Write a letter to your 100-year-old self.

Dear me,

Congrats on scoring a hundred! Sigh!

I’m so proud of you. The century must come at a time when playing life as a sport isn’t so easy for many. 

You have seen the good and bad. What a roller-coaster of a life! Many ups and downs and you have still won. Bravo!

A win against all odds, to say it honestly.

You knew the ball coming at 156 miles per hour on the pitch wasn’t the one you often faced at the nets. One was a practice and the other a profession.

You know the difference. And you were able to play a great knock. Kudos!

How the opposition were howling at you when you ducked! Those short-pitched deliveries were deliberate.

How they nudged you in the ribs when you left those without offering a stroke!

Didn’t they call you names? How they told you off many times. You stood your ground. Great!

The running between the wickets needed a trusting and loving partner. And luckily you had one. Thanks to the partner who stayed all through the rough weather in life. Brilliant!

One small mistake you will be gone, ‘OUT’ short of crease.

No appeal could have saved you as DRS was in place and the technology would send you home in a minute. And the audience would be jeering you on a giant screen. Hell with those constant replays!

Came the new villain, Duckworth-Lewis. How tough life was! You score well and you will still lose the match. Damn those tough equations!

The bowler and the guy behind the stumps have always known your Achilles heel. They showed no mercy when you had been late to the crease.

The opposition always threw the ball to the end where you were heading to. Such was the love the competition taught you.

You survived the Bodyline series and pajama cricket.

You survived the Chinaman and the crafty googlies. You survived Mankading on many occasions. 

Age never deterred you from playing a patient innings all through. And money never pushed you to join a circus called Club Cricket.

You shied away from all the glitterati surrounding league cricket. You never looked at the glamour side of cheerleaders either.

Nobody could fix you for a small amount of money. 

All you carried in the kit were a box of salad, a bottle of water and a pack of chewing gum. You had no decent pair of shoes. You were never worried. No complaints.

You’re nothing but a personification of ‘Survival of the Kindest’.

I’m sure you will go on like this forever and score many tons. You belong to the elite club that consists of Don Bradman, Vivian Richards, Sunil Gavaskar, Sachin Tendulkar and Virat Kohli. The tough veterans.

No Cook, Root, Babar, Gill or Marcus could break the records you patiently built yet in life. 

I shall wish you many more hundreds in life. Keep going. Keep kicking! Keep rocking!

See you soon at 200, mate!

With love,

GK