To greatness, to Leo Messi!

There are a few things that cannot be quantified. There are a few things that cannot be constrained by measurements. There are a few things that only exist in superlatives. There are a few things that are gobsmackingly outrageous and yet exquisitely beautiful, at the same time.

Greatness is one such thing. The beauty of greatness lies in the fact that, invariably, greatness is ubiquitous. Humans are way too pigeonholed to grasp the vastness and abundance of greatness. So one may dismiss it, one may even scrutinize it, but that’s the thing about greatness – it doesn’t need validation.

In the expansive Universe, greatness exists in multitude. No matter how many times it is repudiated, no matter how often it is chided, greatness doesn’t care. Greatness isn’t insecure. Greatness doesn’t seek for laurels and neither does it care about slander. Greatness does its own thing.

So while one misses out on a lot of greatness often, sometimes, fortune prevails and greatness just happens to stumble its way into your life. On the face of the earth, a speck of greatness was formed, some twenty-eight odd years back. This speck of greatness was christened Lionel Messi.

Why is he great? His preposterous talent, his immaculate skills, his gentle persona, all of this accounts to his greatness, it does.

Perhaps the most compelling part about this man, however, would simply be his impact. He may have haters, and he may have insane fans spawned across the globe. He may have detractors and he may have admiring defenders, but the capacity at which he influences people – either negatively, or positively – is exceptional. People may dislike him (for most parts because he isn’t a stalwart of their team) and people may adore him ( because, why wouldn’t they?) , but regardless, he possesses this phenomenal ability to enrapture non-football enthusiasts into proponents of football. People may deny his brutality, but they cannot decry his culpability in having their blood pressure raised and their palpitations increased, whenever he represents the opposition.

Twenty eight years of brilliance. Twenty eight years of superlative talent. Here’s to greatness that needs no approbation; it just needs to be witnessed and appreciated.

Happy Birthday, Messi.  ❤

I am Sorry

You said you are Sorry
and perhaps it is true;
maybe you are,
Sorry, after all.

It’s not that
I don’t believe you
because I do, sure,
but there is no cure.

It is puzzling,
when you did what you did.
When we fought
I hadn’t thought

Hadn’t known
that the pain I felt,
could get any worse
it felt like a curse

to love you,
to care for you,
then you did what you did,
now it feels sordid.

But then you came again
and you said you were Sorry,
it felt like a kick
much worse than a nick

Because I can take you back
I know you are Sorry
but your mistake
broke me, I still ache.

I have forgiven
but forget I won’t.
You said you are Sorry
I say I am Sorry.

A viewer’s demi-match-review!

Anticipation always enhances the experience. Securely concealed within the cloak of anticipation are anxiety and expectations. Undoubtedly, the anticipation of the inevitable Champions League semi-final clash between Barcelona and Bayern Munich had me completely gripped in its clutches. Watching the 1^st leg had to be, in a word, nerve-wracking.

The match was symbolic of way too many things to be specifically remembered for one thing. Foremost, a very crucial stage in the competition, the semi-finals are a do-or-die situation. Then there is the case of the rivalry between the two clubs. Bayern and Barca have had a fair bit of history between themselves and having been so fiercely destroyed by Bayern the last time in the competition (read: an annihilating 7-0 blow to the gut over the two matches), Barca had a very important point to prove: to redeem themselves. Bayern, for their part, had to come back from two consecutive defeats in the domestic league. The urge to quench the thirst was there, on both the sides.

Then there is Pep Guardiola, a revered figure at Camp Nou. He constructed one of the best teams of Barcelona known to history, he nurtured and produced one of the best footballers to grace the sport and he directed Barcelona to superstardom. If there was ever a successful man as both a player and manager, it was he. His arrival back at Camp Nou was a bittersweet moment. Fans must have felt the same spurt of joy and warmth as I did seeing him walk down the tunnel and embrace Luis Enrique. It just made the match all the more eventful. Of course, he is the opponent, but he has his place cemented in our hearts.

Now the match on the whole was intense. Tactically, both the teams were acing it. Bayern attempted to man-mark every player, especially in the first half. Barcelona had some chances here and there but Super-Skipper Neuer was always to the rescue. He averted every opportunity Barcelona possessed and left the cules frustrated. A brilliant chance early on was squandered away by Neymar, much to the home side’s ire. Suarez had a couple of opportunities too but they were deflated like a pricked balloon come Manuel Neuer. The goalie made sure to swipe off any chance that Barcelona had and created a couple of brilliant saves. As the first half died down, frustrations awakened.

Considering individual performances, Suarez and Rakitic were stupendous. Suarez tried to squeeze past and create as many chances as possible. Rakitic put up a compelling performance as well, defending and attacking well. While Iniesta too made some brilliant passes and clearances, Messi too had moments of sporadic brilliance. As early as the 5^th minute, the crowd was feasted with a treat for the eyes- a brilliant show of footwork by Messi, spellbinding Camp Nou and the viewers on TV! He made some brilliant runs every now and then and tried to curl in a free kick only for the ball to be enveloped by the mighty Neuer. Not for the first time, the sinking feeling of the fixture ending in a goalless draw was beginning to haunt me; all courtesy the magnificence of Neuer. For a moment or two, it seemed like Neuer was to step out as the Star of the match. Neymar seemed out of his element and appeared a bit frayed. Lewandowski missed an early chance and Mueller tried to bind the team, providing good runs and decent passes.

The second half proffered Barca with a little more space than the first. Critics opine that it is perhaps due to Bayern facing multiple injuries and that seems like the plausible cause but the fact that Messi and co. failed to produce a single goal even so, was disconcerting. With time ticking down, Barcelona were chalking up their options. To concede a goal would mean to gift Bayern with an away-goal, something that could really cost Barca the tournament. Hence, the match had to be tackled deftly; focusing on both attack and defense. The stress was palpable and so was the excitement.

Then something chaotic happened. In the 76th minute, the Bayern players pleaded for a second yellow card against the sloppy Neymar but the referee decided against it. Sensing an opportunity in the mess that followed, Dani Alves passed the ball to Messi and then a spark of brilliance shone… and then it happened, like uncorking the champagne bottle after several attempts, the most sublime (or one of the most sublime) goals popped out of Magical Messi. The crowd at Camp Nou erupted and so did the supporters of Barcelona back at home. When a mother finally locates her child in a horde of people, a gust of relief rushes through her being and a very similar relief coursed through my veins. Watching the replay of the goal in rapture, I tried to calm my frantic breathing.

The goal in itself was enchantingly pulled off. An adroit classic Messi left-footed hit, it finally broke past the Neuer shield. The ebullient crowd bursting with chants of “MESSI! MESSI!”, the players celebrating the goal and the advantage, bustling about, the commentators gushing with excitement- it all led to one big moment of dazzling euphoria.

A few minutes after inflicting the monstrosity that was his first goal, Messi struck again. He now resembled the tethered beast who was finally unleashed, ready to prance. This time, ticking off Boateng like a pack of cards, Messi volleyed in the ball beautifully. The fate of the match pretty much decided, an additional four minutes were added on. Just when it felt like things were winding down for the night, Messi made a smooth pass to Neymar, who this time around, made no mistake and chipped in the ball neatly. The floor hug between Messi and Neymar after the goal had me grinning like an idiot! A happy idiot!

To say that it had been a good night, would be an understatement. To say that we had a good match, would be a bigger understatement. The initial struggles and the pent-up frustrations, all paid off in the last 15 minutes. To say that the 2^nd leg would be any less intense, is another, HUGE understatement!

A (female) football fan.

Chances are that if you like football (association, or to some, soccer, but really, it is football) and your friends don’t, you end up being typecast into one of the following:

1. You either rein in all of your thoughts and keep them bottled up inside because no one is interested in your football jargon and you are a considerate fellow;

but if you are anything like me

2. You end up shoving unnecessary information onto others, babbling every detail of the match that your favourite club played last night because you just need to relive those memories of err just the night that went by and you are excited and don’t really care if your friends/family/random passers-by give you the death stare and/or the stink eye.

What is even more fascinating *coughs*annoying*coughs*, is that when you are a female football fan who (doesn’t quite play football herself) loves watching the sport, are well aware of the technicalities and are a genuine fan and yet are being judged for not being a “real fan”, so to speak.

Normally, I would care about these noble opinions as much as Isaac Newton and Gottfried Leibniz cared about me when they decided to invent calculus, or about each other for that matter. However, today, I thought of consolidating a group of terms usually used to describe female fans of the beautiful sport and these terms are anything but beautiful. Let’s just clarify one thing: this isn’t an accusatory post. I am not generalizing men and male football fans; I am just pointing out what a few (significant number) of men throw towards us. It is they who generalize us and should not be misinterpreted the other way round.

~ Without further ado ~

FAN-GIRL
I would have had no problem being referred to as a fan-girl. I mean, why not?
Fan… Check!
Girl… Check!
Whatever is the problem ,right?

Except that there is a problem. This term is supposed to hold a very derisive connotation, more so amid the mighty fan boys. It is generally used to describe girls and women who harbor an unhealthy obsession for the footballers, hinting that the interest towards the sport is solely due to the good looking footballers. They blame us for blatantly objectifying the players. Hmm, this is rich coming from these very fans, who spare no occasion to objectify the WAGs of the respective footballers. Let’s not forget the female physiotherapists of the clubs either. There are your double standards.

OBSESSED FREAKS
Closely related to the idea of fan-girls, this is a more general term that encompasses fans of all genders but are still directed towards females in a negative sense. The thing is, there is a pronounced difference between passion and obsession. We love the sport and always tend to want to talk about it when we can but it’s not like we are talking about it all the time. Obsession is more transient, more superficial and when we are deemed to be obsessed over something that we are genuinely passionate about, it stings. In all honesty, so many of us female fans are way more proficient with the football knowledge than some of our male counterparts and yet get constantly subjected to unnecessary boorish behavior.

GLORY HUNTERS
A glory hunter is simply anyone who follows the clubs (primarily, but could extend to national teams and individual players too) when they are at their peak, winning titles and are the most successful team at the moment. If these teams happen to slightly slack and lose their lead, they also tend to lose the ‘loyalty’ of the glory hunters. Basically, these are the worst kind of fans who aren’t even fans. They usually associate with the sport to gain some popularity amongst peers or to be a part of a cool gang. Faux fans. Seriously though, how could you question the loyalty of a female fan, just because she is… well, let’s see, not a boy like you?

GOOD FAN for a girl…
Damn it, really?
Any phrase –no matter what – succeeded by “for a girl” is not a good thing. Never ever. Do they really expect girls to be flattered by such a well-known sexist rhetoric? Uhh no, thank you. I cannot even begin to point out how many things are fundamentally wrong with this assertion. It is demeaning and masquerading it with a compliment *snorts* is not going to grant you any favours. So maybe just disappear.

a NO-FAN
All of the aforementioned terms are equally absurd. However, there exists this sect of boys who just cannot come to terms with the fact that females too can be interested in the sport. Call it puerile if you wish to, as their obstinacy is so laughable. So essentially, no matter how well-versed a fan one is, one gets conveniently ignored as soon as their gender comes into play. Views and inputs get overtly disregarded, and well, we don’t even exist! Blithe little fools.

So here is a handful of the choicest of terms directed towards us. It makes no difference because it isn’t like we like football to prove a point. It isn’t like we like any testosterone-charged sport to prove any point. We just like the sport because it is beautiful and we connect with it. It would be splendid if even the men stopped trying to prove a point.  😀

The edifice of doom

Its walls reverberate
an impending doom;
These walls that cave in,
the space in between,
diminishing
every passing second.
The shards of glass
of the mirror on the wall
pierces the flesh
of that one lone.
It stings and burns,
it leaves ruddy imprints on the walls.
The oozing red percolates
into the crevices of the floors.
The windows trap
within its realm –
an oasis of red.
The  door –
a mere outlet
for the bubbling red to escape.
The walls reverberate
the hollow, the dead.

Answers…

While conflicting minds dissent,
They’re efficient, or so they like to pretend.

Each promulgating their own word;
The cause now appears blurred.

Malpractices galore,
It causes mayhem, it causes an uproar.

Hopes thrashed like glass jars,
the victims bore the scars.

The deceived scavenging for solutions,
All in vain: sheer confusion.

Such were the standards,
All I had were questions, I needed their answers…

He plays football because he WANTS to

Our society lays many restrictions. Any one particular individual defying a few societal constraints is often shunned. Our mindset is normalised to the traditional gender roles set up by society. It is disturbing, on so many levels. Patriarchy is ruthless to women; it has confined us in every way possible. It is hard to remonstrate against patriarchy everyday.

However, it is not just the female population that suffers from the extremely contorted patriarchal setting. Males suffer too. If only people were more cognizant of how much it has crippled humans, would they appreciate what feminism is trying to do. Feminism isn’t just for women. Feminism is for anyone who is adversely affected by the patriarchal society, which let’s face it, is pretty much everyone.

I am a member of a football (association) group on facebook. I have been so since 2011, possibly. Since my initial days in the group, there has been an increment in the female fans but despite that, it essentially continues to be a male dominated group. I have nothing against it. It is obvious that boys and men are much more inclined towards football. I think it all narrows down to personal preference. I cannot help but sometimes think of an alternate reality – What if we weren’t smeared with sexism and gender bias all around us? Would we still have lesser females interested in football as we have today?

That anyway, is not what has been on my mind.

Coming back to the group, there was a post recently made. A picture of a really attractive and beautiful woman, wearing an AC Milan jersey. The caption suggested that she was the team physiotherapist. It didn’t end there. It further suggests how the boy (who posted the picture) had finally understood why players agreed to join the club in the first place. Many likes, many comments. One disturbing notion: Sexism.

He and the others probably do not realise that the said caption is highly sexist and degrading to their own sex. Or maybe they do realise and anyway endorse the idea. I don’t know which is worse.

What his caption implied was that men are willing to do anything so long as they have an attractive woman as the incentive. It betrays the commitment and the zeal and the passion that footballers have for the beautiful sport. It paints them in a very tainted picture. It tries to assert how men are only sexual beings, who get blinded to everything else when being confronted with their sexual urges. Isn’t it wrong? Isn’t it unhealthy?

To their defense, they may come up with the bland excuse of it being a joke. What they don’t comprehend is the deep-rooted sexism associated with this joke. One simply cannot extenuate everything in the name of a joke. People need to understand that this idea of men being driven by lust purely is a very huge negative that is a huge part of popular culture. Instead of furthering it by making a joke out of it, maybe people should do something to permanently remove the existence of this idea (also, the other disturbing sexist ideas).

The thing is, it is a double-edged sword. On the one hand, it is insinuated that the woman earned her position as the physiotherapist in a reputed club only due to her looks. SEXIST. On the other, it insinuates that the footballers get employed to the club only because they want to be around the hot woman. SEXIST. I cannot fathom how anyone could find the joke in that.

I don’t know? Maybe, just maybe the beautiful woman bagged the job because of her merit and the footballers signed for the club because of the opportunity and the impact that it would have on their skills but most importantly because they love to play? Hmm? Yeah.

photo credit: ACM via photopin (license)

Do broad dial watches not belong to me?

I had been waiting for the elevator at the University today. That slow, almost ancient elevator that barely accommodated 5 fully grown humans.  Yet, it was either that or walking up a long flight of stairs up to the 4th floor. I’m lazy, I need inventions like the elevator at my disposal.

While I waited, a few other people joined me in the waiting – a senior student, a female teacher, a male teacher and an attendant. The female teacher and the senior student got involved in small talk, while I was busy doing the usual: looking around, stealing glances at people.

Suddenly, my gaze fell on the relatively shorter male teacher, staring at my wrist watch. I presumed he wanted to know what the time was and anytime expected him to ask me the same. He never asked that. Instead, he borderline shouted, stating how girls these days wore huge watches. If I had to be honest, I was caught off guard. I did not anticipate that, though I perhaps should have. I smiled awkwardly, mentally preparing myself to retort, when the female teacher (quite unexpectedly), beat me to it. She said, “Why what’s the problem? It looks good, doesn’t it?”. I was stunned. Doubly stunned, if there exists such a feeling. This comment of hers did not deter her male colleague a scintilla. He continued, “But girls would wear such small dial watches, such dainty ones, and now they have taken to wearing such huge ones. When did this happen?” The female teacher, “This isn’t sudden or recent. Big dials have been donned by females for a long time now. Weren’t you aware?” Her colleague, “Oh but we are stuck with the medium-sized dials” and with that, he flashed his watch for all four of us to see. He perhaps hoped we would laugh, but we didn’t, not the teacher and I. The male student did guffaw. Yay?

I just waited for the elevator, and I looked at the female teacher once, my respect for her, growing with every passing second.

Let us deconstruct what happened, shall we?

What that male teacher did today was sexist. It may not seem so. It may seem like a harmless comment on watches and the expected preference of females when it comes to watches, but really, it boils down to internal sexism. A subtle sexist slur that was. A subtle sexist slur teetering on the brink of chauvinism.

His comment went on to echo the notion harbored by most:  women, by default, are to wear small dial watches. That big dial watches were more of a manly thing. They were an entitlement to men and therefore women had no access to them. Was he threatened because he felt that a female wore something that was not what ordinarily females wore but what males did? Perhaps he was.

I mean, come on. Women vote, women work, women are provided every right possible, why snatch away our beloved broad watches? Right?

I have personally always loved broad dials and I continue to hunt them down in stores. Not because I want to embrace masculinity and condemn my femininity, but rather because I just like them. It is a matter of taste. Why should I, as a girl, be coerced to choose what society thrusts on my gender? Likewise, why should a boy? Why should anyone, irrespective of their gender?

Also, note and appreciate that the female teacher actually stood up and voiced out. I was in awe. Not because she stood up for me, nu-uh. However, by standing up to his obnoxious comment (laced with sarcasm and sexist undertones, mind you), she actually inspired me. Inspired me to believe that in a godforsaken place such as this, there was still hope. Hope for feminism. It made me believe that even amongst imbeciles of the highest order, I could look forward to a woman, who could tell when a sexist or a chauvinist remark was made, and then shred said remark to pieces. It’s a sweet feeling. To hope of such things. To be inspired this way.

This points to another pressing matter, which is,  identifying and discerning a jibe when it is made. How are we supposed to tackle and eradicate problems without even identifying the existence of it? We are so socially conditioned to misogyny and sexism that we cannot tell it apart from a casual comment. Misogyny prevails, misogyny pervades. High time we all gain and spread awareness to curtail it at grassroots level.

She doesn’t have to be a relative.

A few weeks ago, I received a video that was forwarded to my Whatsapp account by a Whatsapp contact. A well circulated video doing the rounds on the internet, I believe. It depicts a woman being followed around by a group of men, who intend on molesting her. They direct some crude and sexually harassing comments towards her while the woman, petrified, tries to escape from the scoundrels.

They continue following her and then they manage to grasp her hand and pull her towards them, potentially trying to rape her. One amongst the group of miscreants, identifies the girl, screams and asks the men to let go of her; she is his sister.

The video ends there with the man crying and a message running on a black screen. It goes something like: Do not harass women, she could be someone’s sister.

While I appreciate the well meant purpose of the video, it struck me as real odd. Is it absolutely imperative for a woman/girl/female to be someone’s sister, or someone’s daughter, or someone’s wife in order for you to not rape her? Is it a must for her to be related to some man to remind you of her worth as a human? Does her existence as human, magically get recognized and verified if she were someone’s, more specifically, a man’s sister?

Here is what I do not get. Why do we have to guilt people by reminding them that their female relations could also be met with the same fate as they inflict upon a female? Honestly, if that is what our society has reduced to, then we have dismally failed. I firmly believe that a human, any human, irrespective of their sex, is entitled to freedom. They shouldn’t have to fear rape. The rapists shouldn’t have to curb their carnal desires because the potential victims are related to someone (a man) and that their abuse could lead to their relatives being abused in turn because, hey, hey, hey, karma is a bitch! This is distorted. I would shut up if it did affect the number of rape cases. Guess what? A guilt-trip hardly makes the difference.

A woman is not devalued if she isn’t related to anyone, if she isn’t related to a man. It still does not make it okay for anyone to rape her. She is still to be respected, she still is a human with her rights, her basic human rights intact.

The rapists, the culprits should rather curb their carnal desires because they should realize that this person is an Individual, who is free, who has rights and who is, in no way obligated to them. They are to realize that exploiting this individual is an offence, that should they breach propriety, they would be punished. They are to realize the basic fact that raping an individual is wrong, not because she is someone’s sister but because she is a human who does not want to engage in sexual activities with you. Rapists impose themselves on the victims, thereby depriving them of their basic rights. Rape is a violation of human rights and rapists should refrain from committing this barbaric act because  it is WRONG.

---

---

The curious case of the Selfies – Part 2.

As previously mentioned, while a fraction of my brain was consumed in thoughts pertaining to how it is alright to be self-aborbed and a little self-obsessed perhaps, as long as you cherish yourself. There was another part of my brain that was considering a possibility stemmed out of selfies.

Appreciating and ackowledging one’s worth is necessary and should that be in the form of pictures or as is colloquial, in the form of selfies, then so be it. In fact, as recent as the official term selfies may be, the concept of selfies is not an old one. With the advent of social media and its expansion in terms of the people it affects, selfies are a rage. These are almost indispensable.

When one reflects a little deeper on it, one wonders if this rage to generate a good percption of oneself is an indication of self-obsession or that of something else? Seemingly, clicking pictures and posting them continually showcases vanity but if you take a closer look, it may not be so. Encased in the sheath of outward conceit and vanity is our actual intention which is to please others and satiate our ego by flattery. Although unconscious most of the times, we are actually dependent on some other person’s opinions of us. Likes and comments make us feel good about ourselves and though by no means is it wrong, it is a slightly contorted means by which to amplify our worth of self based on the compliments of others. So are we all catering to our self-obsession or are we, in actuality, putting up a veil of narcissism while seeking for approval and acceptance?

As sad as it is, I have encountered many cases where people tag their popular friends to gain a few additional likes. I have also witnessed a change in the young facebook users; how they have gradually changed to someone who they aren’t, courtesy social media. Just like Tyler Oakley, I approve of self-obsession, or rather self-love, but what happens when people get siphoned into a virtual reality, making them someone who they aren’t truly? How is it valuing the self when one isn’t quite the self?

Celebrities post selfies often and they don’t need a couple of hundred thousand likes to bolster their confidence, well a majority of them do not. They do it for various reasons as were discussed in the video. It is a way by which to directly interact with a fan, it helps with their popularity, it makes them feel good about THEMSELVES, because honestly, every celeb out there has this distinct personality that shines through their being. This is what makes their fans swoon over their favourite celebrities. Which is why it is okay. So maybe we should take a tip or two from our favourite celebs and celebrate ourselves and capture ourselves in selfies for who we are, and not to garner likes and comments solely. 😀