Sehwag hums bhajan. Tendulkar croons Dire Straits numbers. Just shows the protégé and the mentor are not necessarily peas of the same ipod.Apart from being in the same bowler-butchering-business, their common grounds run out fast.
When Tendulkar speaks, you start believing he either doesn't have a tongue or an opinion. Diplomatic circumlocution at its best, critics put it rather harshly.
Sehwag, on the other hand, belongs to the school of thought that advocates tongue-wagging comes strictly under Heart's sole jurisdiction and Brain would do well to take a walk.
When Tendulkar opens his mouth, trust him not to put a foot wrong. When Sehwag opens his, it's mostly to accommodate his own upwardly mobile restless foot.
So while Tendulkar continues to bolster his post-retirement case for the sensitive job of Indian High Commissioner in Washington or Islamabad, Sehwag doesn't seem fit for even Dhaka.
Even Dhaka! Certainly not Dhaka, especially after his ordinary-side gaffe!
In stark contrast, The Tendulkar Cult grew in strength and opened its Bangladesh chapter after the Master Magnanimous went to the Tigers’ dressing room and blessed the awe-struck cubs.
Have you seen a Hindustani classical singer in the process of uttering the name of his Guru? A light of veneration gleams in his eyes as he raises a polite hand to touch the earlobe with unalloyed veneration.
Next time India returns to Bangladesh, I can see the Tigers doing the same whenever they refer to Tendulkar. 'It's Sachin Ramesh Tendulkar,' they would point out with a silent rebuke.
As for Sehwag, well, I'm afraid it would be just the surname, preceded by a largely unparliamentary assortment of crossbones, asterisks, skulls, stars and practically what not!
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