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Fans of cricket, casual or avid
Will doff their hats to the departing Dravid
Having met many orders tall
There he leaves, this elegant Wall

Born in the royal town of Indore
Bred in the gardens of Bangalore
164 Tests, averaging fifty-two
May only just give you a little clue

Thirteen K runs, thirty-six tons
go far, but not enough for this one
For this game really is not about stats
in an age of glitter and gutterly spats

Tests were waning, with ODI-ous turns
Fixed-matches and shady team-churns
Paunchy honchos and new-new money
Soured the game – and it wasn’t funny!

As Rahul stood in the middle, with the Men in Blue
His character came shining true
Sharing with titans many a crease
His feet stayed firm with much ease.

This game is not about winning alone
It’s about a culture deep in your bone
Of how you play on and off the field
Of how you defend, how you appeal

Once played in villages, besides the farms
The game fell prey to gladiator charms
Runs flowed quick, with cash aplenty
as one-dayers sunk to Twenty20

Batsmen auctioned, bowlers bought
In a crossfire of tycoons players were caught
Our D stayed cool in this onslaught
As petty men cried, shrieked and fought

Counted with Sachin, in a duopoly of greats
Despite their differing natures and fates
While the Little Bradman made his points
The Wall was just the right counter-point

As he bids adieu to the hallowed game
Marking his feet in the Hall of Fame
One more point will strengthen his case:
He excelled in dignity, exited in grace