Five things First-time Fans Must Know before EURO 2012

Lionel Messi is not going to play

Yes, no matter how big a fan you are of the Little Messiah, you will not get to see him at the tournament. Why, you ask? Well, apart from several other complications, it’s the fact that he is not Spanish. Playing for Barcelona must have made him look like Luis Enrique’s cousin, but he’s not. Remember how he played for Argentina in the recently concluded world cup in 2010? Oh, that’s right, you don’t have a clue. And if you still happen to be confused, Argentina is in South America; while this tournament is for European teams. For similar reasons, you’ll also find Didier Drogba missing. He is from Ivory Coast. No, I’m not making this up. And while I’m at it, let me make it very clear; Rafael Nadal doesn’t play for Spain either.

Barcelona are a club

In a related misunderstanding, Barcelona (the reason behind you numbnuts believing that Messi is Spanish) cannot participate in this competition either. Why, you ask again. Your curiosity just startles me. Well, because they are a club. The UEFA EURO is a competition for countries. The Catalans do have a separate flag and a separate dialect of their own, but you’ll find all your heroes from FCB wearing a certain red jersey and playing alongside Fernando Torres. Oh that reminds me, the same applies for Chelsea, Manchester United and, if you’re into that kind of nonsense, Liverpool.

The Netherlands is what cool people call Holland

Football is one the main reasons people know some countries exist. So, if you are new to football, you probably haven’t heard of The Netherlands (Not to be confused with MJ’s Neverland). It is not an imaginary place and it’s not a nick name. It’s just what we, the cool ones, call Holland. You must have heard of that - if not in ‘Pulp Fiction’, then at least in some edition of the cricket world cup. Fun fact: it’s one of the few countries whose name starts with an article. And as we all know, ‘The’ is the coolest article. There’s not much you need to know about this country save for two things – the people of Holland are known as the Dutch and secondly; on a good day, in football, the Dutch can kick your ass.

If you can’t pronounce, don’t say the name

Sometimes, you’ll find yourself in a spot where you want to take a player’s name and make a comment which will make you seem like you understand the game. For instance, “I think Steven Gerrard will beat the shit outta that other team.” Or, you could be one of those girls who are watching the game because of their boyfriend and think that they can make him jealous by spotting good looking footballers. For instance, “Ooh, that Rooney fellow is so cute!!” But unfortunately for you, not all the names are that easy. There are some eastern European countries whose players have names that are more complicated than the politics of Eastern Europe. So, you don’t want to be the person who calls Szczesny (Pronounced as Chechny) Suzzcazzhenny in a room full of soccer maniacs. Therefore, if you don’t know how to say a name, wait till a commentator says it first. Or, if you are not a complete moron, identify the players by their number.

England won’t win

This is the most common misconception first-time fans have. The English Premier League’s popularity is the chief cause of this false idea. People see England and they think, Manchester United!! Chelsea!! Arsenal!! Liverpool!! And now even Manchester City has added to the league’s thunder. They see England and they think those glorious images of Frank Lampard, Steven Gerrard, John Terry, Wayne Rooney and the others that are shown repeatedly on ESPN. But that’s a rookie mistake that you need to avoid. The Barclays Premier League is awesome. But that says nothing about England’s national team. If there’s anything IPL has taught us, it’s this. When Iron Man, Hulk, Thor etc come together, they become the Avengers. The same doesn’t apply for England. So, rest assured, England won’t win. I’d place my bet on that imaginary country I told you about two points ago.

The Last Candy

While one of Goa’s most renowned authors sat at his desk scripting his next great work, two twelve year old boys entered the room with the sole intention of stealing some candies from the old man’s bed side table. This was daily routine. Every day they would slip into the room one behind the other, and without the slightest of murmur, giggle or a heavy foot fall, they’d accomplish their mission. But today, they were caught. Just as one of them stretched out the tiny fingers of his hand to hold the jar, the old man called out to him. Practically petrified, the boys stared at each other. Their daily candy stealing racket had been busted. He called the boys near him. They took one step at a time and with each step they wondered what the possible punishments could be. They came and stood just behind his chair. He turned his neck towards one of them, the one who was his grandson, and held his hand out for the jar. The boy, Tobu, handed it over and looked at his friend. A look that had “no candies from today” written all over it. The old man, meanwhile, opened the jar and took out a handful of candies (an assortment of mint, éclairs, orange etc.) and handed it evenly into the hands of both of them. This was the best punishment ever. As soon as their hands were laden with candies, they shot out of the room; and Tato, as we preferred to call him, got back to his work.

Continued...

Ab BUS karo

In Goa, buses are the cheapest and the quickest medium of public transport. Unfortunately, their availability and frequency are not in sync with the number of daily commuters.On an average, most private buses have 29-35 seats and have an 11-19 people standing limit.

But, on an average, each bus has nearly 38 people sitting and (in harshest circumstances) up to 45 people standing. I am not exaggerating. (Justin Bieber ki maa ki kasam)

Now, human bodies, unlike Bangladeshi Silk Sarees, cannot be folded and put inside a match box. So, when a bus is filled over-capacity, bodies of different individuals are going to collide, rub and squeeze each other. These are simple laws of physics which have been accepted and followed for nearly 400 years now. I will not get into the details, but my understanding of physics, when applied to the situation in question, produces this law:

“When a bus with a capacity to accommodate 11 standing passengers is filled with 30, there is high probability that people’s bodies will collide with each other. Also, the intensity of the collision is directly proportional to the number of turns on the road, complexity of the turn and the driver’s lack of expertise.”

Having said that,

It is a general observation that girls generally do not fancy physics. Their minds are not meant to understand its intricacies. And again, when this theory is applied in the above situation, we can see that, girls do not fancy the collision of bodies. But trust me; no one does it on purpose. Ok, there are some jerks in my species who try to take advantage of the situation, but I’m not one of them.

And that is where my problem with crowded buses comes in. This blog post is not a product of one night but a result of nearly 8 arguments with women on the bus who thought I was trying to intentionally hurt them. I WAS NOT!!!

Now, I’m too lazy to describe each of the encounters, but I will narrate those which ended sorely.

Story #1: Tale of the Unreasonable Maiden

It was a pleasant afternoon in the month of November. You know how pleasant November can get if you’ve lived in coastal areas. But for bus commuters, there are two seasons at any given time. One is the season outside the bus, and the other one is the constant summer inside the bus.

This reminds me, the eco-system in a packed bus is the best example to explain global warming. The body of the bus is the atmosphere. The people (green house gases) enter the bus and stay there. Their respiration causes a rise in the levels of CO2 and other harmful gases (sources of which are smelly armpits and plastic bags under the seats that contain the cheapest edible fish). This causes the temperature inside the bus and inside the head to rise.

This anxiety caused by a multitude of smells and noises of honking, ugly babies crying and uncles with hair on their ears talking un-ignorably loudly on the phone.

I entered one of these furnaces expecting the daily scenes of my daily ride. I analysed the positions available to park myself for the 20 minute journey. I found a decent place- next to a “Ladies Only” seat. Huge window. “At least some fresh air” I thought to myself. The first thing I do once I park myself: put on my ear-phones and disconnect myself from the most crowded room in the entire state- a room which has wheels, if you may.

You know how earphones work right? Yes, you have the full freedom to blast your favourite song at the highest volume. Also, you do not have to give a fuck as to who or what is present in the surrounding. Right?

Now, on that wretched day of November, a girl “parked herself” next to me.  In some time, the bus started to crawl its way out of the world’s most un-organized Busstand (Mapusa). After we were 5 minutes into the ordeal,  the girl said something that sounded like ‘excuse me’. So, I looked.

She said: Your bag strap is the touching me!

I said (in my head): Yeah, and the barbwire that it is made of is shredding your skin.

I moved my bag from my right shoulder to my left shoulder.

In the next two minutes, the driver lived up to his expectations. Passengers bumping into each other, baggage falling off the over head carrier, fish peeping out of their polythene cages. In one such incidents, I accidentally bumped into the same girl while trying to put my ear phone back in place.

She said: tsch! Tsch! These boys!! Bloody mannerless nonsensy . (her exact words)

And, After a long pause (Like Dilip Kumar’s)

I Said: (This time out loud) Listen madam, if you have so much trouble of men touching you, you should not climb into a bus that has 30 of them.

She said: Don’t act the smart with me. (Her exact words. I’m not exaggerating. Justin Bieber ki maa ki kasam)

I said: Stop talking. And take a rickshaw next time. Don’t mess with my mind. (The rest of it I said in my head) That royally moronic professor has made enough bhaji paala of my brains already.

She stared at me. Oh, BTW, I’m one of those people who talks loudly in public places. So, practically everyone in the bus was either looking at us or listening to us (simply because looking through 40 bodies is supernatural)

She looked angry. So, I thought to myself, might as well put the cherry on top of the cake.

I shouted: I wouldn’t fall on you on purpose, you aren’t even pretty!!!

Yes.

She started crying.  People knew the argument was over and had already started trying to make it seem like they saw nothing.

Next stop, I got down.

Story#2: Summer time rocks

This one, I remember the date. 23^rd April 2008. I happened to reach near my bus a little earlier than usual. Also, it was the peak afternoon time. Buses are relatively empty. But, like it’s destiny or something, there was just one empty seat in the bus. Without much fuss, I took it.

I am one of those people who do not mind anyone sitting next to them. It could be a young man, an old woman, a foreigner, a basket of live hens...I don’t give a tiny rat’s ass hair!!!

Now, it being summer, I was perspiring like a normal Indian male. (This is just a more sophisticated way of saying “sweating like a pig”)

While I sat next to something, I began my normal routine of plug the earphones, open music player, select a random Indian Ocean song and then set it on shuffle.

And suddenly,

The thing next to me spoke.

SHE said: Hey, why don’t you sit somewhere else?

In the next moment and a half, I looked at her and made an overall analysis of the girl in my head.

I said (to myself, in my head): Oh, I was sitting next to a girl. Hmm. Pretty face. Too thin. Dull choice of clothes. Sony Erickson phone. Going back home. WAIT!! She asked me to move from here. I should answer her.

I said: I’m not going from here. This was the only seat available.

I said (to myself, in my head) Why does she have a problem with me? I’m just sitting next to her, I am not going to try to molest her. What might have given her this idea.

She said: Why are you sweating so much. Please wipe it. You have a shortage of towels at your house?

*in the next one second, i had to analyse what she said, why she said it, and what would be the best thing to say*

I thought: ooh, girl is trying to be sarcastic. And of course, she wanted me to move because of the sweat.  But wait, I have to think of a comeback.

AND THEN I NOTICED IT.

Remember the expression “sweating like an Indian man”

Yeah, I noticed that SHE was “as hairy as an Indian man”

If you paraphrase, it’s like saying She had Grizzly Bear hands.

My comeback was ready by default. Such things are made mechanically available by some part of my brain. I stared at her hands for some time and said...

“Man, you have hairy hands..Too much of shampoo at home or what?”

She stared into embarrassment as the bus moved.

Story#3: Size does not matter!

This one is very recent. Like a week ago. This story is the reason I decided to compile all incidents and post them on my blog.

So, on a bright sunny afternoon of the world’s hottest summer, I was on my way home after a lunch that satisfied all the sense organs. The bus had 10 minutes left till it left from the stand. So, I got a window seat (that is as rare as someone getting to watch Halley’s Comet twice in their life).

And ten minutes later, when the bus had already started to move, a girl came and sat next to me. After just (what felt like) 2 minutes into the journey, she started acting like how 8 year olds act when they want something but cannot say.

She tried pushing herself towards me. Then, she looked at me and said, could you please adjust?

I thought to myself: How could she think she could push me and move me? I was hit by a friggin’ bus and I survived (true story).

*Then, I acted as if I tried to move a little inside*

But crazy bus girl #3 was over-ambitious, and, she was as loud as I was.

She said: Fat people shouldn’t be allowed in buses! You are taking so much space! Please let me sit.

Normally, being called fat after a good lunch is not considered good manners among fat people.

I turned my head to look her in the eye. I realized she was on the healthier side too.

This was a classic case of one blind man bumping into another blind man and saying:

“Andhaa Salaa”

I had already started to think of a nice comeback to that. But she was a girl. She was fat. I didn’t need a fancy one here.

I looked at her, and said: Well, you are fat too!! Bloody bhains!

People from 5 seats behind stood up, actually stood up, to see who was being referred to as “Bloody Bhains”

That is a recipe for tears. And yes, she cried.

MORAL OF THE STORIES:

1)      1. Not all men are molesters

2)      2. Just because you  are a girl, you cannot get away with unfair assessments

3)      3. Never, and I mean, NEVER in your life, mess with a person who is loud, witty and has no control over his tongue.

All in a day’s work

Today began like every other day- going through all the items of my daily routine. I hardly had an idea that a day that began in such a mundane way could go on and teach me such a profound lesson in life.

Once I stepped out of my house, my struggle to get to my college began. But I was not the only one in this struggle. The bus for which I was waiting came in over-filled. And yet, the ones with a superior desire to reach their work on time managed to scramble themselves on board. I gave up and waited for the next bus. I have to change three buses to get to my final destination (my college). 

Usually, I do not look around on my way to college, but today was a special case. I noticed large groups of migrant labourers waiting anxiously for a contractor to arrive and delegate the day’s work. The only way they know to earn bread.

But, nothing so insightful crossed my mind while I tried to make my way to the next bus that would take me a step closer to the final checkpoint.

Next stop: the Bus Stand in Panjim.

And once again, I noticed something I hadn’t noticed in the 700 consecutive days that I’d been there. I noticed PEOPLE who, just like me, were uninterested in the surrounding. Moving like robots with a mission in mind. With these images of the hustle and bustle of the planet’s routine, I entered my college.

No sooner did I enter the gate I knew that the unusual observation that I’d managed this morning will end here. Today’s lecture was on “International Terrorism post-1945”. But as the lecturer started to throw up stats after stats, as to how many people were killed in how many attacks in which year, I lost all the attention I had brought along with me. I didn’t manage to note down any of the numbers; but, I could not stop thinking about terrorism, terrorists and the reasons behind the fanaticism that has caused SO MUCH chaos time and again in human history. 

On my commute back home, I pondered over the images of terrorists, the cause and effect relationship between the various significant events of recent history. Once I reached home, however, these vague thoughts slowly left my mind. (The same way people left the cinema hall while Ritieieieish Deshmukh’s Aladin was being screened)

As the day went down, I started to get ready for an eagerly awaited music concert. Indian Ocean, my all time favourite Indian Folk Rock band were playing at a college fest. I, along with a few friends reached the venue an hour before the crowd started to trickle in. The music was delightful. The atmosphere was amazing. Some soulful lyrics and some groovy folk songs are the best way to end your day. Well, actually I THOUGHT it was the end.

But, as I said earlier, today was going to be different.

After the concert my friend was going to drop me home. While I sat on the back seat, all the pieces of information and absurd observations I had encompassed throughout the day, started to fall into place.

I had an epiphany.

All these years, I’ve been taught in school, at home, among friends, through books, movies etc. That,

 “All humans are equal.”

But today, I had witnessed the otherwise.

My day had commenced alongside a group of people whose only objective was to get through the day alive and earn enough to buy food and drinks that would keep them alive till the next day. And people who were living a life of robotic proportions.

In college, I learnt about terrorists. But, who are terrorists? Why are they motivated to kill innocent people? They are innocent people too. But their struggle is a struggle for identity. And when their identity is threatened, they act in the most appropriate way that they can think of.

And then, I think of the time I spent at the Indian Ocean concert with my friends- listening to the enlightening verses from Mahabharata and a range of folk songs. The time spent with them grooving to the divine music and losing the sense of self.

In retrospective, that was a need. We needed some soul searching.. Some peace of mind.. Some enlightenment..

The question I ask myself now is that,

How can that laborer who has nothing but today to worry about, the terrorist who is willing to die to preserve his identity, and my friends and me who were in search of something our daily life fails to give us...be equal?

As my friend steered through the darkness to drop me home, I had learnt something that had changed me...

We are not equal. We have different needs, different desires. And to fulfil those needs and pursue those desires, we struggle. But our struggles are different. And that’s what makes us different. Whether it is good or bad, fortunate or unfortunate... I don’t know...maybe I will have to wait for another such day to find out.






NOTE: this post was originally written as a narration for a 6 minute documentary which I made for my project. So, if you like it, you'll like the documentary more. If you don't like it...well, read it again.

True Love

All pretentious lovers

Think of love as a knife

Only true love discovers

The true vibrance of life.

A mere eye contact with her

And autumn turns to spring

She teaches me the song of true love

The only song I wanted to sing.

Her dense dark hair

Make the monsoon clouds shy

Those clouds are insignificant anyways

To me, her eyes are the sky.

Sometimes I find my words inadequate

Although my feelings are immense

But she seems to understand

The under current of my silence.