The ghats of Benares must be damanding a reply from Mohammed Shahid. "You loved us like your children throughout, and when it was time to bid adieu, you chose to be so far away," they must be complaining in unison.

Such was the relation between one of India's finest hockey artists and his hometown Benares, now called Varanasi. But for Shahid, it was always Benares. "Agar main Benarasi na hota, toh Mohammed Shahid na hota. If I wasn't a Benarasi, I would not be Mohammed Shahid," he famously said, days before his death.

A death at 56 is not justified, but that's for family and friends. There are no referrals when the supreme umpire up there stops play and sends a player out. The man who could dodge past almost any obstacle lost to a liver ailment, but not without a fight. He held firm, always telling his family "not to worry" as doctors at the Medanta Hospital tried their best. To the family's aid were also Shahid's employers, the Railways, and the Sports Ministry, commissioned by Prime Minister Narendra Modi himself.

It will be difficult for the 21st century generation to relate to Shahid bhai. So they must be told who the legend their country just lost was, why there's such an outpouring of emotion, and what's the legacy he left behind.

Shahid's legacy

Mohammed Shahid was not just one of the greatest players to play the game of hockey, but was a human being who valued his relationships as much as his 1980 Moscow Olympics gold medal – the last time Indian hockey was at the Games' podium.

If you ask Zafar Iqbal, with whom Shahid formed a partnership that could leave defenders dizzy, he will tell you how Shahid would ring up and ask for the well being of those close to his heart. "Partner" is the word mentioned in a number of tributes written since he breathed his last on Tuesday. That's how he used to address those dear to him.

He was not considered very adept when it came to defending and that's probably why the dodger got dodged this time. He didn't have much left in him once his jaundice led to liver complications, which proved fatal.

But Shahid, an Arjuna Award winner, was not meant to defend. It was his dazzling dribbling and off-the-pitch humility that earned him respect that crossed boundaries. It was those two earnings from his career that got the whole hockey world rally behind Shahid once his condition worsened.

His wife and their twins were seeing Shahid slipping away as he barely responded the day before he died. Perhaps he had heard the whistle and stopped playing. The stick laid motionless, the dribble had stopped, miles away from the Benares ghats, which will now wait forever for their beloved visitor and one of India's favourite sons.