Of Heartbreaks

En route to an early morning game of football, what was the first in ages, sitting in an auto with 2 other players, chatting about what was last evening's game between city rivals East Bengal and Mohunbagan and Robin Singh's two match winning strikes when our veteran auto driver turned and retorted to us young EB fanboys with disdain that "Prothom goal ta kheye toh Shilton-er book bhenge gelo, tar por dwitya goal aar ki thamabe??!? Or je mon bhenge gechche".

Literally translates to "The first goal broke Shilton's heart (Shilton = Mohunbagan goal keeper), how do you expect him to stop the second. The poor man was heartbroken".

I've been wanting to leave this city for a while. And sometimes it seems like I'll never get out. But some other times, times like these, they bring a smile to my face. For such sometimes happen only in Kolkata.

I don't know what it is. Maybe its the weather, maybe being amidst civilization after 5 years of semi-imprisonment, or maybe its just me all of 24 but not for long. Whatever it is, its never been this hapless before. There are too many people and too many acquaintances, yet life has never felt lonelier. Almost as if out of spite for those acquaintances, who well are great people.. really. And who are still the same. The way they were when you'd left them. Left home. Yet now... now you belong elsewhere. And the friends of old, well they're just friends of old. Not companions of the present. I guess. Weird.

Nevermind. I still got music. And did I mention the weather? It is great! Fabulous in fact. Walk out of the shivering shade into the lazy sun and bask a while making the drag last inside your lungs. God bless ITC.

Also speaking of music, an old friend was recently speaking, in between sips of hot tea, of how sometimes the simplest of words and the most clichéd of tunes encompass all that there is, there was and there ever will be. In just a moment. The slight tremble of the voice, or the sudden softness in the finger picked twang, or the promise of ever returning to the start and always ending up close but not quite. Just like life, sometimes. Only sometimes.

Here's a sappy number by two beautiful and talented artists that makes me wish I was born in different times. So let the devil take tomorrow, cause tonight I need a friend..

I love weekends.

4 days to go...

Boredom compounded with work leads to what follows. Those who've had the lack in life to read the Malazan Book of the Fallen atleast till the 3rd book (there are 10 in all) shall know better the context of my paltry poesy. Those who haven't, well whats there. Cheers.

Of being done (Brukhalian's Prayer)

In the raging glory earned with blood and tears

find my death, a final prayer

to all who watch and reap, but never sow,

for all who live and die beneath their blows;

that all the power, anger and pain

sheltered within these fragile frames

that follow my shadow to the betrayal imminent

live on past us and never faint

for the crime of our deaths, uncommitted yet,

shall weild a vengeance moulded in hate.

Let us march to our deaths then, old friends and new.

Let the crime be complete, and a hero rise anew.

A hero with no song, no place beneath the sun,

but just a man, not dead, for he’s not yet done.

Stuck in the middle of all them Exhibits. There must be some kind of way out of here..

I CANNAAWT!

Questions that flummox me innocent mind...

1. Whatsup??!?

2. I'm reading. Person X walks up and inquires, "What're you doing?"

3. Mother : "What're you doing with your life?"

4. "DO SOMETHING!!" (Mother again, but that was not a question)

5. There are a bunch of fresh A4 sheets stacked at the printer next to me that are visible to all and sundry. A fellow colleague walks up and asks "Could you pleease put some paper in the printer?". EVERYDAY!

6. Boss : "So you wish to quit? Now what, become a mercenary?"

7. Friends (different ones on separate occasions) : "Why're you like this man?"

Random.

Champion of the World

Ask any Indian, "which Indian is the best in the world at his/her respective sport?" wherein being the best is not an annual event. It is a status that is earned over the course of one's career.

Most of India will answer SACHIN! Well duh!

Some might even say Saina Nehwal.. or wait maybe... atleast she's one of the best.

Rarely would one hear the name of Mangte Chungneijang Mary Kom. Well if not Indians, then atleast the International Boxing Federation has pronounced MC Mary Kom as the 'best female boxer' in the world after she achieved the "unimaginable", as pugilist Vijender Kumar put it, by winning her 5th Women's World Boxing Championship title in a row.

There's something terribly attractive about sportswomen that I find myself unable to resist. When you make that a mother of twins, hailing from a male dominated third world country that pretends otherwise, successful in a male dominated sport and who is born but two years before I, well you get love and respect in immeasurable yet equal measure. The Hottie of the Month dear readers, although late but not never, is MC Mary Kom.

The wind burns most of my cigarette away even as dry leaves and dust particles rush headlong into my flying hair, clinging on in inanimate survival. Its been pleasantly cold all day.

Winter is here, and I feel fine!

Cheers.