The beauty of Virender Sehwag lay in his flaws

Early in the new millennium, Indian cricket was closest it has ever been to an empire. Ably led by a Bengali Prince, the army defended India in tough distant lands. The battalion boasted of some truly great soldiers - fortified by The Wall; inspired by a curly-haired god-like child prodigy; guided by the learned Kotla-conqueror and a very, very special rescuer.

These greats wolfed into one impressive team and could intimidate the opposition as much as they could inspire aspirants in India. But a certain young boy from Nazafgarh, over time, managed to create an aura that on its days could swallow reputations and rewrite history. He was a rebel who refused to conform to archaic wisdom and used his stubborn ways to bathe in the bloodshed of Kookaburras, Dukes and SGs.

His name is Virender Sehwag and he didn't care.

To the clad-in-hats purists, his lack of footwork was nauseating and his choice of shots, ridiculous. He offended countries with his press conferences and spiced headlines up with his straight talk bordering on impoliteness. He wasn't the fittest around and, with Gautam Gambhir, co-founded the now inactive (and ever so unreal) Run Outs and Inc.

But perfection is not Sehwagology. Nor is routine. Precision and intent are. His method was never supreme but with eagle eyes, cheetah hands and leaden feet, he scored his runs at a pace that could only be termed riotous. Add to that his run-amassing temperament akin to that of a closeted Buddha. Scores like 319, 309, 293, 254, 201*, 201 don't come to just a swashbuckler.

Sehwag was a sight for the sore eyes - for eyes tired of watching Tendulkar's boringly perfect drives or gazing at Dravid in an infinite forward-defensive loop. He was unusual and adventurous, bringing up premium milestones with huge hits into the stands. He thrilled. He entertained. Despite the presence of Dravid, Laxman, Ganguly and Tendulkar in the line-up, he once rose to become India's most prized wicket.

He could make triumphs into a mere formality. Or survival impossible at times with his over-ambitious drives and lust for the open spaces square of the wicket. And that's the caveat when it comes to his fandom - if you were investing in his shares, you'd have to be ready to rock and roll between royalty and beggary. He could excite as much as he could disappoint. He could explode or implode. For his fans, it was sometimes more frustrating than a slow internet connection. Or having dinner with that Aunt who unconsciously runs a marriage bureau for you. His innings of 195 at Melbourne in 2004 started with a couple of hits on the helmet, passed through phases of unbelievable brilliance and ended teasingly close to a Boxing Day double when he tried to bring it up with a six. It summed up the entire assortment of emotions that a strong-willed Sehwag fan went through. His flair could hurt at times but his bandage of belligerence could do far more than just healing.

You wouldn't want Sehwag to bat for your life but if you still decide to risk it, he was capable of sparking an absolute miracle. Like his extraordinary 68-ball 83 at Chepauk against England in 2008. That's why his fandom was worth it. When the great Muralitharan and mysterious Mendis baked others in humiliation across sunny Sri Lanka, Sehwag nonchalantly conquered Galle with an undefeated double to give a desperate India, a series-leveling win. That's why his fandom was addictive. When South Africa stared at a rare series win in India, he blazed to a century at Eden Gardens to give India the time and hope to hold on to the numero uno spot. That's why his fandom was unique.

Every batsman will disappoint; you just have to find the one whose batting is worth suffering for. And Sehwag was totally worth all the disappointments. Where other batsmen would focus on the nuances of batting and suffer through their superstitious idiosyncrasies, Sehwag would don a numberless jersey because he apparently had too many suggestions. He chitchatted with the umpires and hummed Bollywood melodies between the overs. He lit up boring press conferences and countered reverse-swing by hitting the ball out of the park. He made risk a fashion and never realized why.

In cricket, Sehwagology is a crash course and may not be the most ideal graduation for budding cricketers, but it can certainly motivate us all to live better. Look closely and you will be your inspiration in the darkest of times. Nobody is perfect. And Sehwag reiterated why we didn't need to be.

When you keep failing at being perfect, stop for a moment and remember how Sehwag batted. Remember how his batting wasn't a function of his faults; how large handicap against swing outside off-stump was handsomely compensated by booming off-drives and fiery cut shots. Mediocrity against short ball or lazy feet didn't stop him from scoring just because that had been the way of the world. And you may not always end up doing what you aspire; there almost always is a better plan. So whenever that opportunity candy comes along, grab it just like that 20-something old middle-order batsman did when asked to open the batting at Lord's. And when you are down and out, play out a boundary-less session at Adelaide because sailing the ship to safety is sometimes more important than riding the waves.

His batting prowess may have waned in his later years but his stint with cricket remained precious for its originality and for the attitude that powered it. History may or may not be kind to him but there was little doubt to the adage - where there is Sehwag, there is entertainment.

The beauty of Sehwag was in his flaws. And there's a lesson for everyone on how to handle them.