We Are Going To Moscow

The adrenalin is still pumping after experiencing another magical European night at Old Trafford, a night which is sure of a special place in the history of this great club. The crowd was immense and the atmosphere electric. I am fucking proud the way we performed.The wonder goal by Scholesy, the tireless running by Nani, Park and Tevez, the resilience of Evra, Brown and Hargreaves and the fantastic leadership by Rio. We have done everyone proud ,from the spirits of the Busby Babes, George Best , Sir Matt Busby and every other person who is connected to this great club of ours. Manchester United , I love you more than anything i have ever loved. I write this with tears in my eyes and pride in my heart, go ahead and win the cup for us !

We Shall Not Be Moved !

Memoirs Of An Old Friend

I met this very old friend from school,this evening. He was a good lad but wierdly i dont really remember much about him, though one very funny incident came back to me.

I think it was the 6th standard, when we were about 12-13, this old friend of mine liked this girl. He was a bit of a tard and we were just kids. He came up with a sure-fire plan that could not go wrong for him. He ended up proposing to her on one-knee in the middle of the football ground, with a fake plastic ring you get free with Poppins, and asked her if she would do him the honor of making him complete. She laughed in his face, everyone else laughed, he ran away to the toilet and someone stole his pokemon cards.

Momentary Respite And Tom Hanks

It was a wonderful day yesterday, i am freed of the ghastly chains of JEE and United tore the Gooners a new arsehole. Owen Hargreaves - I fucking love you, sir.

I had just one day, to nurse the hangover of the very eventful day previously,and warm myself in the embers of freedom before i get my head down to start my AIEEE preparations.I thought of giving myself a treat and took out the "Forrest Gump" DVD from the now scarcely touched video library in my room. It was battling with the other half of me which wanted to see "The Other Boleyn Girl" in the nearest theater, but i guess my laziness triumphed over my desire of seeing Natalie Portman and Scarlett Johansson on the same screen. I have always loved those two and i have always loved period films but i just couldnt inspire myself to move out of the house.

In the end i think i made a good choice. I couldnt believe i had the DVD for so long and could not be arsed to watch it. Honestly, I've never felt that emotion for a good few years, I was getting worried that I might have been transformed into a robot devoid of any emotion. It was the part when Forest started to break down talking to Jenny's grave and I must admit it brought a tear to my eye , not many films have done that ! The only movie i remember Tom Hanks was better was probably "The Green Mile".

Later on,I was a bit annoyed that i wet myself over a movie . Fucking Hell !

A Nocturnal Tryst With Halliday

IITJEE is just a mere 48 hours away and I havnt slept a wink since day before yesterday. I feel knackered, weak and hopeless.Its 8 in the morning and keeping awake is a struggle, but i know i have to go on. Giving up is not an option and never will be.However, my eyes feel heavy and they rebel against my wishes to study further. Alphabets appear as a collective blur of dancing neon lights and the warm cozy bed is as tempting as Salma Hayek in "Desperado". I have studied a mere 15 days for an exam which people fail to crack after 2 whole years but Miracles do happen.

I am off to bed.

Confessions Of An Eccentric Loner

I am amongst those silent brooding guys that middle aged women frown at, marking us down as a "potential rapists". So its needless to say that I am not exactly the type of person you would come upto and start talking about the weather. I very well know of the fact that people find me intimidating and I like to play along with the myth and project a very serious face which is supposed to convey that "if you come anywhere near me, i will abduct you and then torture you with corkscrews." Not that i am a mushy bastard who writes poetry in his free time, but i am pretty much normal like everyone, almost. Though,I admit to having bouts of eccentricity wherin i enjoy getting rid of all my bodily sensations and accessories, but let me warn you of the fact that it isnt a pretty sight and that it has the potential to haunt you for the rest of your life.

Over the past year i have learnt that the thing i treasure the most in my life is privacy and i hate it when people attempt to rob me off it, though i have an immense arsenal of explecitives that i employ and use with distinction , telling them exactly what i want them to do. I have not turned antisocial all of a sudden,but i enjoy the peace and quiet. I have lots of friends but its just that i am too lazy to call them regularly and this has pissed quite a few who in turn have labelled me with various uncomplimentary names as an "Insensitive Prick". My brother is so outgoing that he makes Paris Hilton look like a nun and he is constantly telling me to "go get a life." But i guess staying at home and spending sometime with myself feels as good as anything.I think i am done with my days of being a wildchild.

I guess, this is what they mean when they talk of growing up.

The Fall And Fall Of The Italian Football League

I was going through a few articles and blogs that day and came across quite a few Italian fans/pundits who still feel that their league is the best. Honestly speaking as an English football loyalist, Italian football was superior, miles ahead of England in the nineties during the days of Baggio, Maldini, Baresi,Costacurta,Del Piero and Dino Baggio .Most Italian Second Division teams could give the top Premier League teams a run for thier money, and top Italian teams would dominate Europe.

All that seems a distant memory with the huge money poured into the English game reading to the rise of the influx of foreign talent . The flair players of Latin America did not think England were worthy of their talents, and in that respect they were a distant third behind Italy and Spain and hence the talent pool of continents like South America and Africa were completely isolated from the english leagues. The tactical know how was severly limited and this owed to their uselessness in the European Cup.Though all that has changed ten years on, with English clubs doing so well in Europe, and murdering Italian clubs in their own backyard.

Italian fans may not agree with me, but Italian football has been in a state of slow and steady decline. With the off-field controveries, lack of funds and poor attendence in games taking a toll on the Italians. The biggest mistake they have done is that they have resisted the commercialisation of their club and their league , proud feckers that they are this has done them more harm than good. Lack of funds equal to lack of quality, and surely the standard is dipping. Attendances in grounds have fallen drastically with some midtable games having a mere 8 to 10 thousand spectators. Also, the Italians prided themselves of never playing for any other league except thier own !Cannavaro,Zambrotta, Luca Toni, Lucarelli and Grosso among are some players who are playing in other leagues and i think that the Seria A has long lost its charm. Italian Football fanatics all over the world wait for another renaissance in the Italian shores, but its more in hope than expectation.

Facebook

After conciously staying away from the much talked about website, Facebook ,i finally decided to take a plunge and see for myself what all the hype was about. I have spent a good three days on Facebook before writing this , and very bluntly putting it ,i think Facebook is the gayest thing to come out since Men's thongs.

From what i gathered, the website is designed for mindless bimbos, desperate single men and sluts. There are no proper discussions in the communities to speak off, and there is this annoying function which enables people to know every godammed thing that you are doing in there. Some of the applications are downright stupid and i fail to understand the purpose of most. I mean, who the fuck wants to know "If you were a drink, what drink would you be ? " or "What colour is your heart." There are lots of annoying features, which make the whole thing so much more cumbersom and the design is pathetic.

In a way , its a great tool for "Show Offs" and i prefer the subtleties of Orkut, which in my opinion is a much better way to keep in touch with old friends with thousand times less baggage and complications .Facebook is so much more voyeurism and its a perfect website for people who have loads of spare time on their hands and narcissists who fancy themselves in a big way.

I dont like it one bit.

United Away Fans Take A Bow !

After all the nonsense that happened last year and this , it was awfully brave of the United fans to make the trip to Rome.Italy has always had law and order problems with regards to football clubs and supporters , with the likes of Lazio (Nazio) and Roma heading the pack.The stabbing of 18 United supporters, the police brutalities coupled with stabbing of Leeds, Boro and Liverpool fans over the past few years in Rome have raised concerns with hooliganism rearing its ugly head time and again.

However what warmed my heart was the fact that a mere 4,000 Mancs outsung the 60 odd thousand fascist barbarians at the Stadio Olimpico."Glory Glory Manutd" resonated all around the stadium as the shellshocked Italians didnt know what hit them. It was one of those awesome European nights and I wish i could get drunk .Its illegal for anyone to be this happy.

Viva Ronaldo,
Viva Ronaldo,
Running down the wing,
Hear United Sing,
Viva Ronaldo.

Che Guevara - A 17 Year Old's Perception.

The first encounter i had with Che was when i was 11. There was this big bully in our building who more often than not , wore a Red T-Shirt of a long hair, unshaven man staring out at eternity. Just like the bully i percieved Guevara to be evil who beat up innocent kids when he was bored.However, for some or the other reason he stopped wearing that T-shirt and Che was gradually rubbed off my mind.

Three years later, i met this girl in a party. She was fairly attractive and wore a White "Che" T-shirt. Old memories came flooding back and i asked the girl who this particular man was . "Dunno,dude. Some Rockstar,maybe. He looks kool, doesnt he ?" Was the reply that i got and i thought the girl was trying to act funny. I didnt pursue the topic.Two years later when i became active on orkut, the famous pictures of Guevara showed up again in many display pictures all over the website. Thats when i thought that i have had enough and that i had to know about this man.

The initial research confirmed my belief that this man was indeed remarkable.The more and more i read about him, the deeper my admiration grew. Riding around the whole of Latin America on a bike, his involvment in the Social Revolution in Guetamala under Guzman,the stupendous overthrowing of Batista in Cuba, his brilliant military tactics, his fearless attitude towards death and his tireless efforts in Congo. Remarkable is an understatement for this man.

He was never blessed with a strong army boasting huge numbers and relied mainly on terrain, intelligence and guerilla warfare. Another very important facet of his personality is that he never gave up. In Congo, Guevara was sorrounded by all sides and his army consisted of a paltry sum of 100 soldiers. He very well knew that it was a matter of time that we would be defeated and probably killed, but he did not desert the principles in which he had believed all his life. Yankees and their pals can call him a "Mindless Commie" and "Murderer" and this is as ironic as it gets. You dont have a revolution with handshakes, hugs and kisses least of all when you have America on the other side of the table.

He is an icon, loved and remembered my millions of people across the globe and deserves to go down in history as an extraordinary visionary, a fearless warrior, an astute tactician and a constant pain up the backside for the strongest country in the world.

"The revolution is not an apple that falls when it is ripe. You have to make it fall." - Che Ernesto Guevara.