Manav Visite l'equipe du foot!

I am a wussie. A big one.

Those who know me will testify to the fact that I have a strange antipathy towards any form of sporting contests or events. At tense times in the hostel, at key 20-20 matches, I am often the lone person not sitting gazing exitedly at the TV screen in hostel, and sometimes (Sacrilege!) have been known to demand the remote to watch the News!

However, miracles happen. Yesterday, I went to the Sports Bar in Hyderabad to watch a match! A football match, no less!! One between Manchester United and Arsenal!!!

Uncharitable friends of mine have suggested that the reason I went for the match was for the food or the alcohol. Some have even suggested that I got confused, substituting the word "bra" for "bar"- something I have often been told I need. Fie on such people.

I went for the experience. Five days short of turning 22, I realised I was the only person who had never watched a football match for more than five minutes. If one were to start, then one should start with a bang, I believe. What better than the Extreme Bar? Good food, Congenial company, lots of beer, and a nice big screen.

I also distinguished myself on the occasion through loudly demanding the score, asking how many overs were over, and on one occasion shouting "Six" when a goal was scored. I excitedly cheered both Manchester United and Arsenal, and after a point when everyone was booing Arsenal, in the spirit of "A pox o' both your houses" shouted "F*** Football!". I also made statements of a derogatory nature with regard to certain intimate parts of the teams' managers. Oddly, I enjoyed the match.

And maybe it has had an effect. Infected by the spirit of mens sana in corpore sano and all that jazz, I have taken to jogging! You may witness this sight in the evening, on the Shameerpet road, c. 6.00-7.00 PM.

I guarantee entertainment. Of the sort that people gained while watching Nanny Ogg eat a pickle.

Not Quite A Social Butterfly, And Other Things

My friends refer to me as the Social Butterfly. In many ways, that is true. I talk to many more people than any of them. For someone who describes himself as an introvert on applications, I sure talk a lot.

Over the last few months, though, I've realised that my circle has actually dwindled. Not in terms of people, but in terms of the variety of people. All the people I regularly talk to are from law school- (with two notable exceptions, one of whom reads my blog. :) ). That makes for a set of conversation that go down a few sharply defined paths:

1. How law school sucks- and how we want to leave- and how what we thought of law school isn't anything like what it actually is. (And what did we expect, eh? Something out of John Grisham)

2. How we don't know WHAT we are going to do post-law school.

3. How AMSS pays like shit, and treats its employees like turds.

4. How the language of rights ties up with the Constitutional Conception of Morality and so on, until we mention Naz foundation some thirty times.

With older school friends, unfortunately, there are but 2 kinds of conversations:

1. How nice school was, and did they know Mrs. Chona (along with all the good teachers) has left, and how school is a hell-hole, I tell you, and then an ackward silence before we remember to tell each how nice it was catching up, and face the obligatory questions about where one was studying again (Yes, NALSAR, not NLS. NLS is where Prateek is.) Such a pleasure.

2. Conversations that begin with a hello, don't show too much promise, and rapidly peter out into "Well, I must be going now. Such fun catching up". You're working?getting married? Engaged? Awesome. We must meet sometime".

3. With Damini: Conversations as they usually were. (Barring those six months in the middle).

Not too good for a "flibbertigibbet", and "someone who talks to the world", no?

In other news, the roof of the hostel is the best place to enjoy Rafi. Or Faiz. With a glass of whiskey, usually. With Ice.


I leave you with a few lines from Faiz:

Kab Mehakegi Fasl-e-Gul, Kab Behekega Maikhana?
Kab Subh-e-Sukhan Hogi, Kab Shaam-e-Nazar Hogi?

Kab Thahrega Dard-e-Dil, Kab Raat Basar Hogi?
Sunte The Woh Aayenge, Sunte The Saher Hogi.

(And no, I shan't tell you where I got the ice from.)

I'm no good at farewells. Never have been.

There have been a lot of them over the last week. One expected one, from NALSAR. And two entirely unexpected, and a lot more abrupt.

So this is a dedication, somewhat. To two people I've known since birth.

And especially, to you. To my first visit to Chandni Chowk, to get my cycle. To parrots as birthday gifts. To Aam Paapad, lots of it. To the fact that you had something for EVERYONE when you came back from the US. Everytime. To Qeema Paranthas. To awesome noodles. To times when we just came over, and stayed for a dinner NOBODY saw you make. To random memories of Lahore.

To the fact that you had the biggest heart I've ever seen.

We'll all miss you a lot, Suniti Aunty. Thank God you went the way you would have wanted to.