A new season begins

How fast the time flies by. In the blink of an eye the WC is over and a new season of league matches have arrived.

At the end of the last season, we expected to see a spending spree. But to everyone’s surprise there is no much of a movement till now. Even the big spenders like Real Madrid, Chelsea are lying low.

Mancini has more than fulfilled everyone’s prediction when he romped through the market laying hands on everything and anything he could lay hands on. By the end of this season Mancini will be elevated to the joker of the year.

Chelsea, Abramovich’s toy, had to contend with its ageing stars. Fergie has stayed true to his word with no high profile signings (not sure if he tried to).

Michael Owen’s only contribution to football was a goal against Argentina in France ’98. Thereafter, this high profile player has been a useless piece of furniture wherever he stepped his foot on. The last day he discovered that similar to the past 6 years this is going to be a Chelsea-Man Utd. Contest.

I wonder how the poor Kops will react to their one-time-poster-boy’s reaction.

But Owen has conveniently forgotten their last season’s heroes- Howard Webb and host of other blundering referees (and also some small-fry managers who threw away the matches). I believe Owen was signed by Fergie to stay in the headlines of British newspapers. I find no use of him on the field.

Owen has also forgotten that Man Utd. was no where near to title and in the season before that it was the Kops who gave them a chase.

As for the good ol’ Arsenal things look shakier than the last season with no defenders and an ever erratic goalie.

I hope for the best.

The valuable

I tapped the pen furiously on my forehead. I hated thinking hard. It makes my hair fall. Luckily I got into a place where I don’t have to do much thinking. Moreover I get a cool 5 figure salary at the end of every month (for lazing around).

I can’t wait to get to the month-end. It seems that my account will run dry even before the 20^th mark. As usual I will have to run to Sruthi for financial assistance.

‘Sruthi’ was just a temporary arrangement when it all began a year ago. The expiry date of the ‘temporary’ affair is well past over and we are still sticking on to each other.

She has already started talking about ‘cementing’ things. Getting committed at this point of life doesn’t seem to be a great idea. But a break-up, if it happens now, is going to get real ugly.

And if the ‘temporary’ thing are ‘cemented’, I will have to start thinking about climbing those corporate ladder a bit fast. Well, you need a lot of capital to settle down, don’t we?

Ever since my childhood it was my dream to show him how a home is built. Now I am getting my chance. There is enough time for that. At the present I am concentrating on living the moment- work, parties, booze, restaurants. I try to ignore the void I am experiencing these days. Would I end up a failure like him?

I suddenly jump out of the reverie. The curvaceous lady is waiting for my answer sheet. These surveys sucks. But all the thinking has done some good. I got the answer

QUESTION: What do you value most in the world?

ANSWER: My wallet!

The young turk

The fragile façade built around him by his PR team has started to crumble. The Indian public is seeing through the layers of whitewash. They see a confused guy unsure of where he stands.

None of us would have forgotten the fanfare when he made his grand entry. He heralded the era of a transition and became the self styled leader of a youth brigade. His white kurta, jogging shoes and dimpled smile became a trademark symbol of the Youth Congress.

He didn’t have any hesistancy in admitting that the Congress party has to undergo a radical change. He got down into working with the Youth Congress. Soon the YC became the hangout of the hip crowd, the place where enlightened youth dreamt of a change. RG became their brand icon and YC was marketed well. RG became the hottest, intellectual, eligible bachelor in town and girls swooned when he arrived at their campus.

RG pulled off carefully orchestrated stunts too. He jumped into a crowded suburban train, ate with dalit family, came up with some controversial statements that had everything but sense. No one would have forgotten the picture of RG carrying loads as a head load worker.

The crown of his achievements was going to ne the YC election in our states. Kerala had no YC as such, but a bunch of jobless young ones who doubled as goons of the mighty Congress leaders. RG single handedly dismissed the president and invited resumes for leaders. Everyone was stunned. The Congress bigwigs were pissed off badly. Leaders being interviewed; soon we our party structure is going to function with the smoothness of a corporate company. Then elections were announced for the YC.

That is the last we heard of him. The elections haven’t taken place. The excuse being the Data entry company in Chennai hasn’t finished entering the names of YC members.

Even to this day RG smiles at us from posters cajoling us to join the Youth Congress.

Beaten in life

The rhythmic rocking of bullock cart lulled her to a tired sleep. She had been crying since the wedding. Govind could not guess a reason. He felt embarrassed about himself on his little knowledge on the matters of female kingdom.

Even he couldn’t believe that his life took a sudden turn. A few days ago his sole aim in life seemed to be getting a full meal every day. The abject poverty and hopelessness had frustrated him.

His bedridden mother had the vanity of wealth and social status. He couldn’t marry away his youngest sister. The produce of their land could never sustain the family of three. Even the basic necessities of life were rare to come by.

Still in the midst of the happiness, his mind was uneasy. He never considered his brother-in-law as an angel.

In the better times, his father had married of his eldest sister to Shekharan. Shekharan went away to Singapore and returned amassing huge wealth. Shekharan became equivalent to a zamindar in the village making himself the guardian of all Hindu interests.

Govind did not get much help from this Shekharan even during times of starvation. Then why was this sudden incarnation as fairy godmother? Life is quite strange and men stranger.

The best explanation could be he wanted to see Govind married and settled before he could proceed with his son’s marriage. Or else an ‘uncle staying unmarried’ could be a disadvantage to get Krishnan good proposals. As a zamindar, that could be a blotch. After all Shekharan’s main aim in life was to preserve his social status!

It was Shekharan himself who found a girl for Govindan. Saritha worked as a servant to the household. Govindan was happy with the choice. Saritha hailed from a good caste and experienced at housekeeping.

The cart was moving at a steady speed. They would reach the farm house by early morning. Shekharan had put Govindan in charge of his distant farmhouse. At first glance this would look like another benefit from the brother in law. Govindan very well knew Shekharan was too crooked to be too kind. Govindan was not too dumb to deduce that Shekharan would be getting an unpaid supervisor. In return he would be getting food to sustain himself. So two days after the marriage Govindan had set out to his new workplace with his newly acquired wife.

Govindan started planning about his future. He never did so till today. He never had the courage to do so. He felt the dreams budding in him.

He unloaded the trunks from the cart. A helper appeared out of nowhere. By the time he came back after a wash, Saritha had started arranging the kitchen utensils. He felt so happy for himself. He hadn’t had a chance to talk to her. She had been continuously crying. Tonight he must utilize the chance to know her better.

His job at the farm was never going to be easy. The harvest season was at hand. He had to fine the right number of labourers. All things have to be done at the right time. He would be busy all day.

He went out to the fields. The helper assured him all things would be taken care of. He felt relieved. He would not have to spend much time away from her.

He returned to his new shack. it was a palace compared to his earlier existence, even if he couldn’t call it his own.

He discreetly moved to the backyard when he saw Saritha bend over and retching. He grew alarmed. She was sobbing helplessly when he went to help her. He called over his servant and arranged for a doctor.

The doctor arrived, checked her and gave the glad tidings.

He is going to be a father in another six months.

This is work has been poorly based on a great work. I translated and tweaked with no copy rights

OMG!!!

‘God’ is some term man has been trying to define since the Day1. Since ‘God’ seems to be too tough for man to grasp, he has put ‘God’ in some defined boundaries and refuses to take him out of it.

On the other hand there are people who totally refuse to believe that there is an entity called ‘God’.

A few days back I read a blog questioning the existence of ‘God’. He had put some valid points which I found it tough to answer. And one unquestionable question is ‘What is God to you?’

The question gets all more the relevant when we get into tough circumstances. It doesn’t help when we notice that the ‘harmless’, ‘innocent’ and ‘good’ people runs into more and more bad situations.

I always dream about travelling to far off places. I would go there and roam about listlessly. I would buy all the worthless items as souvenirs. Moreover I dream taking breathtaking snaps.

I have been planning a trip for sometime. It was being delayed repeatedly. Recently I persuaded four others to come along. At last the plans seemed to come to the point of realization. In the morning of the travel all four pulled out.

Friends ask me, ‘What is the big deal? You can plan again’. They would never realize it was my dream. Things that are trivial to one are dear to another.

At this point of time I ask, ‘Where are you God? Why does this happen to me?’

Torn Apart

I grew up reading books on the common good of the almighty one. All Gods were one and the ultimate aim of any religion was the goodness of man.

After 9/11 an anti-Muslim feeling swept across the globe. I sympathized with the plight of Muslim brethren. I argued with my dad who is a vehement anti-Muslim. I protested loudly against his clichéd attitudes. I took sides with liberals against the hypocrisy and double standards of the western media.

But today I am having serious doubts on my stand.

A teacher from Kerala faced severe ire from the Muslim community because he put a question paper that offended Prophet Mohammad. Kerala never had to experience senseless communal violence. Not many expected the incidents to take an ugly turn.

Prof. T.J. Joseph was stopped on his way home from church last Sunday. The attackers used an axe to hack off his hand. Kerala woke up to the shocking news on Monday. The comparatively moderately religious people of Kerala are opening their eyes to the neo-Taliban.

I happened to get the offensive question paper. The extract was from the novel of a Muslim writer. The extract had a conversation between a mad man and God. The Professor gave the mad man the name Mohammad, a common name in Kerala.

The mad man asks God, ‘How much pieces do I get when I hack a fish?’

‘Three, stupid’. How does this Insult religion?

The sickening part is the crime was carried out by a religious party with good number of followers. NDF or Popular Front is not a sidelined party. I knew my class mates who worked for it.

If such a divisive act is carried out by a populist party, we have something to be concerned about. Anti national activities is no longer confined to ghettos. It has spread to all strata of society and poverty is no longer the reason.

Liberals are no longer needed to prove this as an isolated incident. The Muslim community of India has to do a serious introspection on the reason why Islam is fast deteriorating to a terror religion.

There was a time when Sufism preached about the great sacrifice of love. But thanks to the oil money from Saudi, Wahabbism has spread its tentacles all around the world. Any other version of Islam is ungodly today.

We Indians prided ourselves to the point of arrogance on ‘Unity’. How much longer will we use the word ‘India’?

Wedding Bells

A conversation I had with a Muslim friend of mine:

‘Hey, why do you marry off your girls at such an early age? Wouldn’t they like to enjoy the life of a single?’

Down here Muslim boys marry off as soon as they graduate. They would be financially well placed with relatives in the Gulf countries. It wouldn’t be difficult for a graduate to secure a job. Soon they would be planning to get married and produce off-springs in the next 10 months. Girls would be married off as soon as they are 17-18.

‘Dude, woman’s uterus would be elastic at a tender age. So in order to get healthy kids marry a girl as young as possible ’. So that was the reason, wow!

The reason why I recollected the conversation now:

No one would have read the great love story of Zara and Bunny. I wrote it a lifetime ago. Although I painted a rosy picture in the blog it was not so in reality. She was jobless and moreover hopeless. I talked with her a few months back and the situations were a bit bleak.

But I was struck by her enthusiasm and positive attitude. She always remained cheerful and happy in tough times. In fact I used to take up my silly troubles with her when she was in a worse situation.

The last day I texted her the evils of marrying late.

‘It would be tough to get a healthy bunch of kids if your uterus turns plastic!’

Thankfully, the next day I was informed that wedding bells would be chiming early next year.

It’s tough to see a love affair fruiting into a happy married life. Nowadays the young lovers refuse to get bothered and break up on mutual understanding. The losers go commit suicide.

I feel proud of the couple who stood together for a long time through not so easy situations.