For the first 56 years of his life, Ramakant Achrekar — Sachin Tendulkar’s guru — was just another coach in a sea of thousands swarming the Mumbai maidans. For the next 19 years, he came to be known as the man who gave cricket the best batsman of its generation. It has been a journey from extreme ordinariness to an out of the ordinary distinction. On Monday, he will complete 75 years, marking almost two decades since the world took notice of him. It is history how Tendulkar’s rise as a cricketer highlighted the presence of Achrekar in his life as a coach. These days, the septuagenarian is not in the best of health. He doesn’t remember much of his own past, hasn’t coached a cricketer for a few years, spends most of his time in front of the television and has little to say when asked why Tendulkar’s falling prey to the nervous nineties. He twitches, his speech is slurred and you know he’s feeling helpless the moment you tell him Sachin’s fallen six times already in that zone. He yearns for a walk across the Shivaji Park, days when he would stand with friends, proudly discussing Mumbai cricket and its most famous son. For a man who managed to discover himself through the success story of his protégé is so hesitatingly sinking into oblivion once again. Perhaps only if he could call Tendulkar right now and shout the way he used to during those days in Khao Galli. Maybe, he could call him to Shivaji Park for an extended net session, lure him with that one-rupee coin. Achrekar appears so vulnerable to the slightest bit of company these days. “I am looking for a driver,” he says, pointing out at the new Maruti Alto gifted to him by Tendulkar and Pravin Amre on his birthday. He would love to go on a drive with grandson Vaidik who, at 12 years of age, still can’t quite understand why his grandfather’s life is so talked-about. Achrekar, nevertheless, is proud that Vaidik plays cricket. After all, his longest hours on a normal day are spent with Vaidik. Meanwhile, quite a few former and present cricketers in the city know “Sir’s turning 75.” It’s a question of how many will turn up to greet him. “They all love me,” he insists even as daughter Kalpana disagrees. “Except for Sachin and Pravin, none of the others come,” she says. Today, Tendulkar might call from Kolkata, where India are playing Pakistan in the Test and maybe Amre could turn up at Achrekar’s Dadar home in the evening after the Ranji outing for the day. “He’s everything for me. My cricket has revolved around him and he’s solely responsible for whatever I have achieved,” insists Amre. “Sachin also keeps enquiring regularly,” insists Kalpana, though she isn’t quite pleased about the way Achrekar’s other famous students — particularly Vinod Kambli — have behaved with him. Perhaps Vaidik would understand his grandfather’s needs. “Bat dhar, bat dhar (hold the bat, hold the bat),” Achrekar keeps telling him. He wants Vaidik to become as famous as Tendulkar. He has coached outsiders enough. It’s time, he thinks, to have a home-made champion. “Bat dhar,” he shouts again, his voice twitching, trembling.
