Who needs a hero?

We all do. But perhaps not one who has feet made of the stuff that has been used for centuries to make pots to carry water – and other sundries – in: clay. All of us need someone to look up to, to aspire to, to dream about, even to hide behind on occasion. This is the man or woman who will is now what we will be tomorrow…or the day after, if we take too long about it, but we all know we will get there.

For many children – and indeed, an astonishing number of adults – in this country, Sachin Tendulkar is that hero. Or Sania Mirza. So is Shah Rukh Khan. And, of course, Sunita Williams, even though she is not Indian and has not been familiar to most people in India until she went into space and then came to this country in a blaze of media glory. There are so many others like this who are the stuff of dreams, the stuff of a Walter Mitty-esque life and world that stays in the realm of dreams and never really becomes actual fact.

Heroes change with time. If they didn’t, they would not be human, and most people that we look up to are very human. When I was a small girl and watching the shooting of a Hindi film in the enormous complex in which we lived, I thought the heroine was “very pretty”, perhaps even the most beautiful woman I had ever seen in my whole short life. She was a popular actress then, and is a nicely rounded home-maker with a history of grief and tears today. Now when I look at her on television, where she makes the occasional appearance, I find her hardly inspiring. For me, now, from where I am after all these years, someone like Cate Blanchett or Rukmini Arundale or Anita Desai would do it, people who have worked hard and made it big in their own way, sometimes quietly, sometimes steamrolling the opposition with relentless talent and charm.

But where there is a hero of any greater than personal perception, there will be public recognition. And following that wave, public adulation. As is the case with Sachin Tendulkar these days in India and, it seems, in various parts of the world. While I do not profess to know anything about cricket (frankly, I think it is a fairly big waste of time, energy and money, but each to their own if it makes their cookies crumble), I do know that people who are enduring stars in cricket do not get there by sheer fluke, luck, fate, or the spin of a single ball. Tendulkar worked hard, long and often injured to get where he is in the whimsical world of sports, and well deserves to be seen as a hero, by his adoring fans and cricket buffs alike. He has earned his place in the echelon and is still young enough to be excited by the continued appreciation.

But a knighthood? Visiting British prime minister Gordon Brown suggested in a speech in Delhi that Tendulkar be knighted. And the media went mad. Which is typical of the whole machinery, but hardly something to be taken too seriously. First and perhaps most importantly, as a republic, India does not allow knighthoods. So Tendulkar cannot be called Sir Sachin, except in future headlines where sensationalism is the raison d’etre. Second, a suggestion by a visiting alien (which is really what Brown is, though perhaps not from the point of view of ET, Jadoo and others of their ilk) in this country for only a short time is not one that should be taken without a couple of tablespoons of salt. After all, he was honouring one of our own in his way, which sounded silly because of the context, not the intent to praise. Even though Sir Sachin sounds good, it is not likely to become reality.

Even in the unlikely event that is does happen, I wonder – will he, like others before him, return the honour with polite thanks? After all, that would be real hero behaviour.