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Watching your children fall.

by Gaurav Sethi

It's a strange kind of cosmic connection with these two, but then why won't it be, I named them. Maybe not quite my biological kids, more my adopted children, but my children nonetheless.

Jatman was the first, and I thrived in his madness, his lack of worldliness, his simplicity, his Jatmaness.

I remember the day, 11th March, 2009; Nikhil Kalaan (himself a Jat, though only half by his own admission) had sent in a piece.

"Haryanvi Jats continue their domination of Indian sport as Virender Sehwag's blistering century powers India to their maiden ODI series triumph in Kiwiland. This nerveless & free spirited wonder (sehwag) doesn't flinch for a moment (super-human quality) before launching the ball out of the park despite being at the doorstep of a historic century, double century, triple century (very un Tendulkarlike).

The best part being: he retains the same dumb expression at all times as if he's playing with a bunch of kids. Nevertheless, a once-in-a-century cricketer for India whose positive attitude makes him a true ambassador of a legendary martial race (the Jats) that has also produced the ONLY Olympic heroes in combat sports (boxing, wrestling) for India. With the exception of the great Maratha wrestler Khashaba Jadhav (bronze medalist, wrestling, Helsinki Olympics 1952)."

There wasn't a headline to the piece though. And just like that, Sehwag became Jatman.

And for his family on Bored, those that loved him, laughed with him, often at him, as he surely did, Sehwag was and will always be Jatman.

The second, 19 days apart, Che Pujara, at 3 pm, March 30th, 2009.

Before this, a few of us were possessed by Che's showing in the first class playground. He had started to own us. And just like that, one day, I started to believe, I owned him.

Cheteshwar Pujara became Che Pujara. I spoke with SP (Pankaj Sharma), and he brought him to life, giving him a face.

It's a terrible thing, constantly praying for the best and fearing the worst for someone.

At the Daredevils-Chargers game in 2011, I was sitting alongside Sean; Jatman was at the crease. I sensed his fall. I vocalised it, telling Sean how I felt terrible but I could actually tell when he will get out. He got out.

And then at the beginning of the series down under, I thought to myself, Che will be dropped by the 4th Test. Glad I didn't mention it, I just couldn't bring myself to, why tempt fate.

Before match day, there were reports about his dropping. Made me even less inclined to wake up at 5 and watch the game, decided I'll get up when I get up.

And when I did, and saw that Che had been dropped, I tried to go back to sleep but couldn't so I decided to write instead.

Even though in the last few years, his is the only wicket that has acutely pained me, his dropping didn't.

I have his number but I've never spoken to him, should I send him a message?

Jatman lived in the neighbourhood, but I've never met him.

Yesterday Jatman scored another ton, it just felt good to see him smile in whites again. Wonder when we'll see Che smile again in whites.

Over the last year or so, I've run through Che's numbers repeatedly. I've kept tabs on the gap between his Test centuries, how the gap was growing; how Che and Virat started the series on six tons; how they care so little for time in the middle; how except for Mike Atherton at the Lord's post-match, nobody saw the value of those 28 runs.

Someone give Che a hug from me. Hang in, long nose.

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