The devils are vanquished, at home

Note: This piece is just a waste of time for those who do not know what football is and what a good laugh against an opponent is. ;-) Even though you may find arrogance and evil in this piece, it's just an attempt to write up lines about a wonderful opponent with no such intentions. Just for fun. This also serves as a statutory warning to the Manchester United fans.

"The time has come," the Walrus said
"To talk of many things:
Of goals -- and penalties-- and red cards--
Of when the final bell rings
And whether Man. Utd. have wings."

It was a dull day for most of the Manchester United fans, atleast duller than the past times that they've been vanquished. Losing a match by a telling margin of 4 goals to 1 to an adversary, of whom they despise, of whom they talk about while playing cards, while sipping hot tea on a saturday morning, would bear upon their feeble minds an onus that is well worthy of itself. The last saturday, with their full strength, their eleven men, Manchester United lost the match at their home ground, the Old Trafford, to the Reds, the Liverpool, by the scoreline 1-4.

Much has to be said about their complacency and arrogance. So much that if one has to go on writing, it would well be reaching the end when a book of Ramayana started parallely would have had the Lord Rama constructing the mythical bridge to the Lanka. The comparison isn't apt. More so because of the hard work that the monkeys and others had gone through to build the bridge. United here, for one, did nothing of that sort. They were just bewildered by the audacity with which the Liverpool forwards and midfielders have surged through their vaunted defence.

A passer by, when prompted to watch the match, would have said that the scoreline would have been much heavier on the latter side with some khatarnak goals just having missed the blessing that master Fate holds its reign on. United are not wonted to having being thrashed at home. Maybe this would wake them up from their day dreams and their habit of stating that the Premier League is unka baap ka jaagir.

There are some things that only one can experience. Those that someone of the calibre of Wodehouse or Sidney Sheldon can describe with their hold on the language but would still fall short of giving one the actual experience of it. Like having garam channa or pani puri on a winter evening, or having a garam chai on the rainy day watching the rain through the window sills, or dancing in the rain with your loved one. One can speak much about them but would only be succeeding in communicating that one would enjoy such things. But to actually let you know how it is to feel those things, is quite impossible. The same can be said about a casual football lover that watches a wonderful game on a saturday evening. That it is between Man Utd and Liverpool , the old rivals, needs to be mentioned here. That I couldn't watch it is not a matter of chance, but speaks of the tragic lives that people in BSNL project are leading. Atleast with the feeling of unable ot watch the match, I felt it hard on my conscience. ;-)

Enough of this obituary for now. I have exaggerated a few things here, but would be happy to have written the same stuff again. Especially contemplating on the match through the red tinted glasses that I am wearing. (Liverpool are called 'The Reds') Whatever might be said, it is evident that unless Man. Utd. fails to win a few of the easy matches, Liverpool dont' stand a chance for the title. Man. Utd., with this scar, would be quite formidable and thrilling to watch, as ever. Whoever wins, the football each of these teams play gives one a quite-a-smug feeling and that's what it is all about. Let there be love. Let there be football. To hell with Indian fourth estate and their mania for cricket that has driven me to stop watching cricket.

PS: All the Manchester Utd fans sorry to have disappointed you. It was just a wakeup call for your team. Next to Liverpool, I love Man. Utd. Apart from Christiano Ronaldo, of course.

Where is the Love ?

(This one hasn't any particular direction. Just some musings put together.)
The valentine's day has passed. No news of bombings anywhere. Thank god, I say to myself. Valentine's day. The day that sells many greetings. Many flowers. What about the ones on the other side of the line ? The ones that wreaked havoc lately, with their bombings and shootings. What would the valentine's day hold for them ? The boss says it's a holiday for us today. He's going out with his wife to a dinner tonight. ??? What about these guys ? Quite young. With frequent rushes of blood to the heart. The adrenaline rush. Cold blood to the heart or blood to a cold heart ?
It's not like they have thought it from the time they came to senses. What would they have thought when they were 10yrs old ? What would you have thought of when you were 10yrs old and one amongst them ? You look at the grocery store wondering how lucky his children are because they need not work much because they already knew what they would do when they grew up. Owner of the grocery store...the place where people get vegetables from, their daily essentials, not guns. Yes knives. Only that they are used for cutting vegetables.
You look at the ice cream walah. Like a magician who takes a rabbit out of the hat, he takes the ice-crotes from his dabba. Look magic. Smiles on the faces of the children surrounding him. I want to be a magician, make people gasp, make magic. Look magic. Everyone claps. Nice show, sir. What show is this now, where's the rabbit ? Only that its not a rabbit, it might have been an AK or a grenade. No claps. Only hands, detached from their masters.
You watch the television. Big cars and smiles all around. Enough dough in their pockets to buy lots of icecreams and chocolates. I want to have them too. Except that on their way up, they forgot the things that gave them satisfaction, the things that they wanted. Aspirations grow. People change. But when you listen to a wrong voice you make a wrong choice.

How does it work? What you think is wrong, is right for one. What brings you tears brings a smile for someone. How does it work? How does one know what's right ? What's right need not always be good. What's good or right need not always be the thing that should be done. Who decides these? Who dies and who lives? You there, you are wearing that blue pants that I despise. You will pay for it. Is that it ?
What about their valentine's ? They say everyone has a someone who thinks they are the angel on Earth, the blessing from above. Everyone has a someone who has robbed of their hearts. And in some cases, minds as well. That one girl that used to grin, through the veil, when she sees you.What about the one for these guys? Holding roses instead of guns. A bunch of roses for you miss. You stole my heart. I am heartless now. Sarcastic, no. Tragic. Maybe there are the only ones who can stop them frommarching ahead.

So, where is the love ? In the world, is growing unrest. My darling son, you are home. How was the school ? He's safe today, she says to herself. One more day of being safe.
We went for a small trip to Basar, to visit a temple. On the way, we stopped to eat the puffed rice, lemon rice and chapathis that mom made. We stopped near a lush green field. It was an onion and potato field. There was water running through the pump that was in the field and we thought it good to stop there. We had just finished eating the food and had taken a few snaps and were contemplating on leaving when a little girl arrived. She was the daughter of the farmer that owned the field. She was all smiles. She stretched her right hand and we saw that there were a couple of roses in it. There were two of my sisters with us. It was for them. They were only too glad to accept it with a smirk. Her dad had plucked those roses (there were a few rose plants on the far side of the field and we didn't notice it. Probably he planted them for his daughter) and gave it to her daughter to give it to these girls. No one has asked for it. It was not at all needed. But it was love. Love for his daughter as well as these daughters of some father that he didn't know. An act of good will.

One can blast such people. Can grind bullets through them. But cannot touch what's within. Of what one holds inside.They can make love take a back seat for some time. But cannot destroy it. It's here. It's all over the place. It's everywhere. For we are, still alive now. It wouldn't have been without enough love to hold on.