Four Years Down The Line

The stars are just gazing over the world cup fifa 2010, so as to make their presence felt across the world. This world cup has significantly reflected that, luck has a greater role to play in the game. There are supporters of even the weakest teams who are wandering cape town to Johannesburg, in search of victory for the home team and if the wish comes true, then to witness the history being created. They have a few trustworthy and tangible companions with them, some are visible …..others are not. Determined Faith, Prolonged Prayers, Plastic Vuvuzelas from madam Wu’s factory in China, And tickets to the amphitheater, where, only the unassailable beast will survive. Exception this is, to the ubiquitous Darwin quote “Survival of the fittest”, which here becomes “survival of the fittest plus praised plus wished plus supported”.

No one would have even dared to think, that Messy and Ronaldo, will be just among the many players, of just among the many teams, which are just racing for another world cup, and deny performing as per their super-natural asset, which, in simple English is called “The Talent”. But no one either can believe that the heroes of the past have lost glory in the present. And the future generation will get different vibes, then those that we get, when we hear the words like “Wayne Rooney”.

There is always a fortune factor working in the referee ruled kingdom, and there also, are a lot of panels and meetings and hodge-podges over this issue. The decision is sure not to be reached, prior to eternity, as, when clan-1 says “There is a great technical flaw in the game which is causing injustice, not only to players, but also to the nations……. ”, clan-2 says “The beauty of the sport lies in everything that it has been having, since it’s creation and onboard voyage up to where football stands today…. it would just be considered as Tampering with the Game” .

While the powerful few are fighting over the issue, let us reconsider that the cynosures are insignificant, over-expected ones are failing, and most certain ones are watching Wimbledon at their homes in their country as FIFA-10 is heading towards the final celebration. Underdogs are covering the laps much quicker, and are giving new heroes for the young-gen to come. Schnijder, Vera, Villa, Forlan, Gyan, to name a few, who have made a mosaic on the holy book of football history, and have become the names, which give a full throttle to the “never say die” instinct within. And now, as the new heroes are emerging somewhere out of the horizon, the erstwhile fans feel a threat to the fame that old ones deserve. But, as a single page that opens a new chapter also closes the old one, heroes who gained of fortune, will become forgotten icons, and who gained of flair and fight, will skip the flip.

These facts have always been as they are today, but they are put under the microscopic observation as it is a fierce battle between the nations, to hold the golden trophy and an incomparable title for four years, till the neutrality, washes the fame in world cup 2014 in Brazil. The call at 2014 will be “Defending Champions”, but that fact gives a sudden discomfort, as the two finalists of world cup 2006 (Italy and France), were not even able to qualify for the quarters of W/C 2010. Italy’s spectre state in this W/C, is a nightmare that will not let the coach and manager of the victors, sleep for another four year span. But that has nothing to consort with giving the best in this world cup. As long as the teams are still battling W/C 2010,………… having that nightmare, would still be a dream come true.

And now, when the Google’s satellite images, might just have started showing unusual thermal images of the African south zone due to the heat of the tourney, the pressure is building for the approaching finale. The more the prayers are done, more are the expectations raised. These are the people who are inadvertently engaged with their purest will, for the glory of the team, the game, and the nation, and retain no bias for self-benefit. No religion can match the sanctity of the character that is embedded somewhere deep inside everyone as a true supporter. He is genuine in all feelings and all gestures that he posses, and have no reason for doing and believing so, but to contend his support for his set of eighteen (eleven main players, five benched players, a coach and a manager). There are no Gitas, Bibles, Qurans or Popes to be heard or read. The only thing that is heard…..is the inner-self.

The Judgment Day is near and pinned at 11^th July, which will close (and of course start) another chapter. Hundreds will be lessons learned, and thousands will add to the new courseware. The tears of various reasons and regions will empty the hearts, which have waited for this month for four years. And for no reason (or may be the most crucial one), they have lived last thirty days feeling that it’s really good to be alive. July 11^th will leave behind a dream (and a million) that came true and thirty one (and a tons of millions)….. Obliterated. And then, some individuals of the creed, will weep back home and some will dissolve in the revelry. Common in both sides of schism will be……..Faith and Hope in Brazil 2014.

AJAR

“Bye Mom”

“Bye Darling”

I am alone at home and I came to know once again what freedom is all about. Dad’s room upstairs, that was tidy at nine when mom left,  is now a perfect mess, and the window panes are trying to beat the decibels of “Children of Bodom” as I like them “six-lane” loud. …….Whatever I am not present upstairs, in that wooden box of Dad. People at the street, stare at the aching window of the room above, while I relish their scornful and loathing formulations from the key-hole of the front door.

“What an unhinged, sick fellow” they’d be thinking. I hate them thinking this, as I know some people might be having accusations, with my Dad’s picture in mind, but I crush that guilt feeling easily, as I know that most of them know that it’s not Dad, but me, as this is fifth Saturday in a row when Dad’s out, and mom is called for some special meeting. And I don’t give  a damn if it’s not Dad and Mom, under the microscope,  but me.

That’s what a holiday always has for me, only if, I am alone. I make things better for me, when the brand new TV with Shopkeeper-Promised-Deafening-Full-Volume elysian asset, hits the race when an Infra-Red  bullet vigorously emanates out of the remote control, unimportant to say…….VH1 is the choice for the traffic filled sunny street of Gangtok.

“There must be some kind’a way out’a here, said the…… ” performed the “Hendrix almighty”, and now is when, the people on the streets are really frustrated. It’s good for me, as only me in all world is able to listen to the deities, loud and CLEAR, because as I listened this ..the other one gets audibly suppressed, and vice versa also holds well. But same is not the case with the Saturday-spoilers on the street, as they get a heavy heterogeneous dosage of jumbled classic and modern heavy metal.

Now, as I am 16, and well past the ingress of teenage, and am preparing to make myself well prepared for the adulthood, which might appear anytime, the would-be adult in me should sprout out the cyst and hence, it’s a Dad’s beer that matches both ends….the paradise dirt of heavy metal and yes, of course my adulthood, vanguards of which are raising themselves at my underarms……..my glory….my heroism. I wonder if I could show them to my would-be Queen…..after all she will know me as a husband who is celebrated across a ten-lane colony. I let-go myself into the trance of metal and beer, where “The Mel Gibson” in me fights the English army with just a hand full of soldiers.

I gathered consciousness by a mutual cease of both, my TV and the Music player upstairs. “Parallel cessation” woke me up. I ran upstairs to feed some bass to the woofer with some Clint Mansell and switched to MTV on the TV downstairs. Some more beer during the hallway-lurching, and I wondered, what vague things have for supper for the consciousness. I enjoy freedom when I am closed inside a locked home, and I get perturbed by silence rather then blare………that’s something weird, but it’s OK if it has to do something with being adult. “World is absurd, only MOTORHEAD makes sense”.

As they detest all my freedom, which I know by the resenting glances that I receive from them Sunday to Friday, it’s now time for them to siege my fort, and claim attacks, and before my mind could put the last notion into executable script………there goes the Bugle…..the DoorBell.

Retrospection propels me to open the door, as somewhere in the past I learned a moral “Love thy neighbor”, and for that, I want to re-live my life, with getting educated in some other school or none at all. It rings again, and the murmurs beyond the rampart, become more significant. I am now opening the door. The last sound of peace, was the “clutch” sound of the door knob, as what happened then after is easily comprehensible. After all the excoriation, and industrially fabricated D –ve level remarks, I was asked not to repeat it, which I usually agree, and did the same then. This time the torture to the soldier was less severe, then the last Saturday, as that time, I opened the door still in trance and with beer in my hand. Generally, I forget what these anti-freedom silently-planning “Laden”-ic figures of my life, from the nearby vicinity say, but I hated it when, a toothless crooked woman, of grave-appropriate age said “Either you are a demon or you live with a ghost in there.”.

Now, I think is the time for some pork and Russian salad from the refrigerator, with some international NEWS on TV, as adults do, but I will change it to, some pork and Russian salad from the refrigerator, with some good music on VH1.

As on every Saturday, I appreciate the appetizing property of beer, and ask God to postpone Dad’s return to Monday, and Mom’s, to late night. I filled the holy container within, up to the brim.

A drunk nap enhances one’s beauty, and pulls the adulthood some where more closer!,,….you should know this as you just witnessed a strikingly new fact unleash. There are two soft double beds in home, but I’d prefer sleeping on the sofa in the hall as most of the Hollywood stars prefer that place while showing respect to the sanctity of the woman, who is troubled by the heavy rain and a tyre-punctured car, and is hunting for salvation.

Six hours I’d been sleeping, as I woke up by a phone call by Dad from Delhi, saying that he’ll catch me up from the Monday school, as he is not able to return due to some work, that is pending for a working hour of the next working day. I went to wash my face in the bathroom, and inadvertently saw it in the mirror. The skin was brighter and softer then ever before!!!! I felt a sudden rush of something in my veins, as though subconsciously, I felt that my thoughts are coming true!! First Dad, delayed his program and then this glossy epidermis of face…..and wha…what’s this now?!! The kitchen door is opened to the backyard and I didn’t notice. In fact I still remember, that Mom closed it before leaving and I didn’t dare open it, as it’s a messy forest that starts form the edge of the backyard. I closed the door, thinking that I could never thought of this, and if it is that all my thoughts are turning out to be true, then this is least supposed to happen. I sat on the floor, near Dad’s music player, searching for some soul calming music.

“Joe Satriani…God himself, the dark side of the moon- PF……nice, but not now…….Hendrix….I already heard that today….wait….what the heck…” I realized that I started my music voyage with Hendrix song which says “there must be some kind’a way outt’a here….”. “NO MAN!!!  Kitchen door……Way outt’a here!! This ain’t happening, it’s not this way world goes… ”  it’s not my thoughts that are coming true, but everything said and wished during the day is!!!!!…….what if the old woman’s words would come

true, that either I am a demon (a little relief, as I am surely not)…….but what the fuck…….or I am living with a ghost…….Shit!!!Shit!!Shit!!!

The agitation became much worse. I tried to convince myself, that I am just mixing cases and circumstances, but still feel that there is no earth beneath my feet. Everything was haunting me, and I was panicking, as I couldn’t think of everything said and thought the whole day. Just to make me feel what a heart attack would feel like ……The telephone rang!!!!! I mustered all the courage left in me and went near to pick it up.

“Hello”

“Hi baby, I am sorry, I’ll be late. They postponed the meeting that was supposed to happen this afternoon, and just now, I received a mail that a client delegate has arrived to take it, and he’s gonna do that just an hour later. I’m feeling as in I am trapped in this job-bog, and am thinking that I should quit it so that I could get some more time with you and Dad. Anyways, as you must be feeling better by this news, I want you, to microwave the pork in the refrigerator, grab some Russian salad and eat it while watching your favorite TV channel.”

By this time I told her several times that I am terrified and want her home right now, but for sure the connection was single way….she couldn’t hear me, but I got her clear.

“and yes….dont forget to change your night suit, and throw the yester ones in the washing machine………hello baby are you there…..I cant listen you clear…hello…..stop worrying me baby……hello……what is it….is your voice breaking for unhealthy connection…or what…….SAY SOMETHING YOU IDIOT I AM WORRIED, HAVE YOU SEEN A GHOST OR WHAT!!!!!!”

“mom”

“yes baby….that’s better..”

“mom….there’s something in the closet……………”

“no mom…it’s not something……its someone!!!!!!”