Sorrow. No No, Irritation
It has been a while since I have genuinely enjoyed cricket. It's the one friggin' sport that my country comes close to dominating. We were very much the favorites - if you're Indian you know what that means - super high expectations from the souls of every single Indian. It's one sport that we are truly passionate about. Well, passionate is an understatement. It's one sport that Indians are mindless maniacs about. And today's humiliating, embarrassing loss to the friggin' English is going to ignite the mania that is Indian cricket. I feel sorry for Jadeja. We lost because of him. He never kicked off and didn't even seem to be trying. His facial expressions were beyond irritating. His wannabe -sniffs and weird facial movements add to the pure irritation that an Indian cricketer cannot afford to elicit. He is probably going to get death threats. His house is probably going to be set on fire. No surprise there and he deserves no sympathy either. Get your act together man and do something in the near future that sorts this out.
The Indian cricket mentality needs to be understood. Imagine, a country of one billion people plays only one sport at a decent level. One billion Indians breathe cricket. They have their lives revolving around cricket to the extent that when a Indian cricket game is on, India stops. If one billion of us cannot produce 11 cricketers to dominate the cricket scene, we just cannot tolerate it. Cricket is a way of life. So, to get any sort of relief, we have to start throwing blame at anyone we can - the selectors, the captain, and the most apt person at this moment to be bombarded with bazookas and bombs - Jadeja.If you play for India, you better learn to handle the pressure. Jadeja lost the game for us. Yes, he is young, naive and probably shouldn't be blamed. But, when the one thing that Indian pride thrives on gets shambled because of a lethargic innings in probably the most important cricket match of the year, you just cannot sympathize with anyone, even with a naive, little kid. Grow up man, and grow up fast. We'll love you for sixes, but we'll bite you for your shite.
I am no big fan of cricket. I was once. And for a moment, it all came back. The one thing India can be proud about was just thrown away because of major over-confidence issues, poor decisions and plain lethargy on friggin' Jadeja's part. People will say, "be gentle with the kid". But he has got to understand the consequences of his friggin' indolence or whatever made him swallow himself. India cannot friggin' afford that. It is so, SO frustrating.
P.S. Work tomorrow. Alarm's set to 6:30. Sleep is essential. And yeah, the Jadeja vent is definitely harsh. Reality bites.
Worn Out
University has this automatic churning machine. It's this stationary, relentless monster that can obliterate anything that walks into it. But, the amount of damage it does is directly related to how far ahead you venture. You could be all merry and chilled, going to classes once in a while, participating in some student org, partying hard and still eventually make it through college with a solid degree. The churning machine barely scathes you then. But, on the other hand, you could take eighteen hours a semester, go to all your friggin' classes, work for a whopping twenty hours every week, become an officer of couple of dominating student organizations on campus AND party hard. This is when the true, brute force of the churning machine starts inflicting its blades on you. It's selective, obviously - more of a voluntary thing. You don't have to step into this destructive little machine. But people do. The churning might be mighty painful, but once you have been churned and NOT broken down, the output of the churn-ation is splendid, or I hope so.
I feel like I am in that churning phase, slogging through with the only motivating factor being that it's all for the greater good. I am tired and worn out but because of good things, so it's not really a problem. But sometimes, you just feel like lying down, listening to music, spending time with family, having no real responsibilities and having just not give a rat's about anyone or anything. That seems really elusive, more of a pipe dream, right now. There is always something to do or something that can be done that will 'help my cause'. Rest beyond a certain, minimal limit is almost a mortal sin. Extra "chilling" brings with it blade-like guilt. It's so frustrating at times that thinking of the worst barely bothers you. But again, it's a phase. A churning phase of the brain. Ideally, it should be something I should be thankful for - the opportunities I have are endless. But screw idealism. I just want to chill. Soon enough, hopefully.
P.S. I'm all talk and no play at times - I say I will chill, but I'll do exactly the opposite, for the greater good of course. That commitment is no where close to being shaken - some things are important and need to be done. When/if ever that philosophy suffers, I have something to worry about. So, this basically is a meaningless, therapeutic vent.
Wenger Wary of City
The great Arsene Wenger says, according to football365.com, that Man City's money blitz is going to propel them into the top 4 and that Arsenal should be worried. He talks about the threat from Villa and the Spurs too. WHY?
Yes, "Professor" Wenger is known for being realistic and stuff, but looking down is not going to help the gooners move up the table. We should NOT be worried about 4th place. It's high time we start competing with Man Utd like we used too. A little more consistency and better friggin' injury-luck should be enough for us to really go for the title next year. Arshavin is buzzing and settled in. Van Persie is really taking off. Fabregas is now a veteran. Toure is officially "old" (in a good, experienced kinda way) with regards to Arsenal standards. We have arguably the best wing backs in the world in Clichy and Sagna. Almunia was a shinning beam among the battery-less torches last year and is soon going to keep for England. Walcott is kinda getting there. Vela is going to be kickass. Eduardo is going to be back - for good this time. Adebayor can go wherever the hell he wants to go. Rosicky better get his act and knee together. We are probably going to make a couple of weird, un-heard-of, but solid signings. We play arguably the most fluid football in England. And to top it off, Wenger is an awesome coach. So, all he has to do is think a little positively and kick some major butt next season. He needs to obviously keep a look out for Man City, but conjuring an inferiority complex is NOT what Arsenal needs. Money cannot always buy success, especially in the friggin' legendary sport of soccer. I hope Arseblog tears him up to with regards to this.
P.S. Arseblog is the BEST Arsenal blog. If you love Arsenal, you better be reading it every morning.
Dubai & Taxis & People
The other day I got into a Dubai Taxi to head down to work. My destination was Dubai Sports City, an enticing option for any taxi driver looking for customers somewhere in Deira. This taxi-driver was an old man, balding from the top with furrows on the side and with large oval spectacles belittling his eyes. I sat down comfortably in the front seat, instructing the taxi driver to head on to our wonderful destination. I pulled over my seat belt and buckled in. I took a deep breath and realized that I was listening to melodious, typical Hindu Bhajans. Not too excited with the melody, I moved my right hand towards the "Radio" button, when I heard the Taxi driver utter, "Aap kya kar rahe ho?" (which is "what are you doing, sir?" in Hindi). I said I am putting on 104.4 FM to listen to some music that I liked. He argued, "It's early in the morning. Shouldn't we be listening to melodious Bhajans?"
I was like, "Umm, no. It's early morning and I am just about to embark on a thirty minute journey, I do NOT want to listen to anything Bhajan-like." A sudden look disgust developed on the taxi-driver's face. He was visibly affected by my desires. He then turned towards his steering wheel and mumbled, "That is not right." Unfazed by his reaction, I boldly switched on what I, the customer, wanted to listen to. Thirty seconds later he asked me, "Are you Muslim?"
"No," I replied. This seemed to shock him even more, happily assuming that I am some Hindu boy who is going against his religion. I bet his mind was complaining "What has become of the Hindu youth of today?" or something of that sort in some complex Hindi. His facial expressions begged me to answer the obviously lucid question, "Why are you betraying your religion?" (slightly exaggerated for dramatic effect.)
So I did him a favor and said, "I just feel like listening to what I want to, in a cab-ride I am paying for. I am not that religious anyway." That shut him up for a bit, but he was visibly disturbed. I enjoyed the remainder of the ride to work besides, of course, the sporadic "If You Seek Amy" runs and other similar rot. We reached our destination and I gave him his whopping eighty bucks. As his right hand received the money, his left hand reached towards the "TAPE" button and the bhajans were on again. I laughed, marveled, was amused and entertained at the same time. The expression on my face was well, pretty indescribable.
I have nothing against Hinduism or Bhajans. But when I, the customer, am paying a shit load of money for a friggin' long cab ride to work, I can very much listen to exactly what I want to, at any (sane) volume I feel like. This idea of putting religion before everything else, even before the taxi-driver's business, is amusing indeed, but borders ridiculousness. God is great and all, but I really don't need to listen to "melodious" Bhajans early in the morning if I don't want to.
Are any of you Dubai taxi-drivers listening? While I am at it, I might as well tell you the following:
- It's your job to take us paying customers where we want to go.
- It's NOT cool to say that you need to go pray AFTER asking us where we want to go.
- It's rude to talk loudly and make conversation on the phone for more than a minute when your damned customer is sitting right next to you.
- Don't be disgusted at our demands to travel short distances. It's friggin' hot in Dubai and you're getting paid anyway.
- Don't ask us questions you don't need to.
- Make sure the cab smells okay.
P.S. On the same day, Jason, Ishika and I saw a 6ft 4inch-ish tall girl where 3-inch high heels. Again, I just don't get it. Jason and Ishika thought I was overthinking things and was getting bothered by something that shouldn't affect me. They are right of course, it's her life and all, but I just don't get it.
U.A.E. Germanified & The Mini-Pitch Invasion
So, Romit, Bharath, Jason and I went and watched the Germany v/s U.A.E. friendly at Al Nasr Stadium in Dubai yesterday. I had forgotten my spectacles so the faces weren't as clear as they should have been, but it was still a worthwhile experience. U.A.E were pretty much massacred by Germany and a pathetic Gomez who somehow, despite his shizer-ness, still managed to manifiest four less-that magical goals. Here's the thing about the U.A.E. team - they are real good going up front but somehow cannot get their act together in defense despite their relatively large sizes. Oh deceptive physiques, I tell you! The problem is, I think, that the entire of the U.A.E. population (that plays football) just seems to want to attack all the time. The defence gets forgotten somewhere amidst that desire for glory.
Anyway, that was NOT what made the night. The game got over and we were ready to tag along towards the exit, when we witnessed a true spectacle of sorts. First, right in front of us, this brother jumped over the nine-feet-high fence-like barrier right on to field and trotted on towards the players and the officials who were busy greeting each other. No security in sight. A minute later, three little dudes, one with a fake-afro-like wig, jumped over on to the pitch from the other side. They trotted towards the German players and started taking pictures with them. No security in sight. They then started walking away, pleased with their achievements, when an epiphany struck the afro-dude. He turned around and starting running towards the German players again. Still, no security in sight. This afro-dude, somehow, managed to get this random German player's jersey to his sheer delight and to our amusement. Then, one of the other two dudes who was with this afro-guy, realized that he could/should do the same. So, he turned around and started running towards Schwinesteiger asking him for his jersey. Still, no security action (busy chattering away). Schwiney refused to give the kid a jersey, so the kid asked for a picture with him instead. Finally, the security officers realized that this dude was not supposed to be there. So, they started making their way towards him, slowly and steadily, to my genuine surprise. This kid, then had the balls to actually ask one of the officers to take a picture for him with Schwiney. At this instant, I was just too amused to react and kept watching in awe. I wish I could tell you that the security officer took the picture for the dude and gave him a big hug, but that, obviously, would have been too good to be true. The police officers finally escorted the dude away and the weird saga ended. We were amused no doubt with the whole thing. That friggin' afro-dude got his sweaty smelly German jersey and put it on instantly to our mediocre disgust. People are fascinating.
So, on a night when the Germans in Dubai had the Schwine Flu and Germany kiled the U.A.E. in a game of football (soccer), a fellow audience member could have quite easily jumped over the fence and killed a German player if he/she wanted to. Security issues, I tell you, made the night for us.
P.S. The internship at Dubai Sports City has begun and work's kinda intense already. It feels good to be useful for free...as off now. :)