Saturday 28 September 2013

Kicker-ed!


When introduced to Kicker (the German name for table-Football) a couple of years ago, I knew I would be disappointed. It was quite an obvious inference given the fact that I found Football to be the ever-most boring game on earth and was often considered a 'let-down' by my Football-fanatic family. After coming to Germany, I figured that Football (or Fußball in German) here was almost synonymous to religion and there wasn't a single person who shared my opinion. So, as a perfect newcomer desperate to please the hosts, I feigned interest for as long as I could, while being absolutely clueless and uninterested in the game itself.

Then one day, God decided to punish me! We were at a farewell party of a colleague at a night-club and there was this huge colorful table in the middle of the room. To be honest, I was pretty impressed by the sight, but still had no clue about what it was. A couple of friends saw me ogling the table, misread my (poker-faced) expressions and decided to introduce me to Kicker. I was devastated when I learnt that it was a mini version of the game I hated most, but decided to play along. Thankfully, I have not regretted the decision ever since.

It is one of the most interesting table games I have ever played. Ideally, it is a 4-person game, two in each team,and the team that scores the maximum number of goals, wins. As one can see in the picture, each player has to use the figures to move the ball, and there are again a set of rules about how to use these figures. In general, the rules are pretty understandable and very much like real Football. When I first started playing, I loathed it with all my heart. Maybe I was way too biased and told myself that anything associated with Football was not for me. But then, without even realizing, I fell in love with it. I realized that it was not, afterall, about players trying just to put a ball in the goal. It was, infact, much more than that! I started learning the nuances of the game, found myself watching Kicker videos on YouTube, and most importantly, respecting the larger version for the first time in life. (Not to mention that the love was fueled by people telling me that I was quite a 'natural' at the game!) ;-)

Long story short, I now consider myself a Kicker-enthusiast who can't wait to lay her hands on the miniature figures whenever she is at a Kicker-party. Agreed, that I play surprisingly well only when under the spell of alcohol, but I do believe that I enjoy it to the fullest even without alcohol! Friends tell me that I become hyper-energetic when I play, shouting and screaming at the misses, overjoyed at the goals and I realize that, in the end, Football and I may not be at loggerheads afterall! :-)




Wednesday 18 September 2013

The third eye

I have known her for ages; when we were still wearing pleated uniforms, tied our hair in braids on two sides, when men still hadn't made an entry into our conversations, when it was all about being naive and dreamy-eyed. I have known her since then. She always came across as a fun (and overweight, if I were to mention her statistics) girl, a girl who talked incessantly, was always up for some mischief, good at studies although she claimed she hardly ever studied which I never believed, had a great interest in drawing which was pretty evident from our Biology or Geography assignments, and who was someone whom I considered a very close friend. We both were in the same section for most part of our school lives, which was the third most important reason for our closeness, the first being our mutual hatred for our Bengali teacher and the second being our mutual love for food. After finishing school, we went our separate ways but still managed pretty much to stay in touch. We made sure to meet atleast once every six months, over fried chicken legs, icecream, gossip and those never-ending discussions on our infinite crushes! We hardly every discussed about the men in our lives, which was strange given that we were pretty good friends and talked about almost everything. 

Then one day she told me that she was dating a guy from college since the past two years. It wasn't surprising, given that she always had been very friendly and quite interactive with guys. It seemed they were very much in love, and were quite serious about each other. Once, I also met the guy. He seemed decent enough, skinny, but a super-chyangra like her! The entire time that we three were there, they pulled each others legs, fought like kids, made fun of each other and laughed and laughed. What a perfect match, I had thought! Then we both got busy with our lives, studies, future plans and met less often. However, we still managed to know what's going on in each others' lives. I was by then nursing a broken heart and trying to finish my studies, and she was preparing to go abroad for her higher studies. The guy I mentioned was also studying somewhere outside the city and was also planning to go abroad. The next time I met her, the guy had already gone abroad and she was still in the city, working. She looked sad, but full of energy, as always and we talked about heartbreaks, long distance relationship, old friends and food! Ten years, and how much our conversations had changed! She told me about the arguments and fights she was having, and I tried to offer suggestions and opinions, always realizing how much she still was in love. We started going out more often, with other friends and acquaintances. She had by then made many new friends and I too, although this was never a concern for either of us. I got to know some of her friends, a guy friend in particular, whom she was very close to and whom I was later introduced to as well. He was supposedly her FPG and someone she considered her best friend, her sink. Seldom had I seen such friendship, such compatibility, such closeness. How jealous I was!

She went abroad a few months later, and I started working in a new city. This time our conversation had one more thing in common- the pain of staying away from home. During those conversations, I got to know a lot more about her life than I did before. She was in a mess, as far as her personal life was concerned. I tried to offer suggestions, opinions, comfort, sympathy, but nothing seemed to work. I blamed her for not listening to my earlier suggestions, for not realizing the subtle changes in relationships and for keeping too high expectations. But then she always had been a head-strong girl, who believed in learning a lesson on her own than on advice. We talked on and off, her mood always fluctuating like sine waves, and my mood always stuck at being pathetic for own reasons. And then, all of a sudden, we grew up. We stopped complaining, accepted things more easily and learnt to be happy in small accomplishments. In a matter of months, I was talking about my new-found love in a new man and she was talking about her new-found love in her old man. We felt happier, calmer, lighter.

So much has changed since then; our lives, our priorities, our dreams, our conversations, everything. Through her, I have realized many emotions, shortcomings and characteristics in me I never knew existed. In teaching her small nuances of life and to let go of her fears, I have taught myself to let go of my fears. I feel happy atlast, for myself, for her, and for the biggest lesson life taught us!

Thursday 12 September 2013

Left behind

Thirty-five days. A presence. A house that so quickly turned into home. Nights that were no longer lonely. Mornings that were filled with conversations. Days that were blissful. Memories galore. Happiness that knew no bounds. And then they left.

An agonizing night followed. A painful week awaits. The room smells of them, the kitchen smells of her excessive use of 'panch foron', the bathroom smells of his body-oil and my eyes swell with tears.

Jena is never going to be the same anymore. I hear voices when I get up in the morning, expect a cup of coffee beside my bed-side table, that oh-so-familiar-female-voice asking what I would like to have for breakfast, to switch onto a Bengali channel on YouTube, or that I should start eating properly; that oh-so-familiar-male-voice asking me to work harder and waste less time, to help connect the long-distance calls or the borrowed TV. Every thing reminds me of them. The air-bed, the utensils, the refrigerator which still has left-overs from yesterday, the towels in the bathroom, the balcony, the perfectly-cleaned wardrobe, the stack of medicines, the ear-buds, the TV, the supermarkets, the ticket machine in the bus, city-center, the narrow lanes, the innumerable shops that were browsed through, cafes and what not. I search for familiar faces in the crowd at the market-place when I take the bus. I almost ring the bell at home and await a smiling face on the other side. I turn on one side in bed and try to cuddle her. I put on the ear-buds to get respite from his loud snoring. But there's nothing, only emptiness. That's how I feel too.

Being left behind hurts, it hurts big time. I thought I was familiar with the feeling. But I realized that it is impossible to be familiarized with loneliness. I complained to anyone who would listen that I was being pampered like hell, even spoiled for that matter. I now wish I was spoiled for one more day, just one more day. I wish I could see them, touch them, smell them, be angry at them and bask in their happiness for one more day. Pangs! Pangs that refuse to leave me alone.

The only solace, is that I have been able to plan and more importantly execute a vacation for them. Nothing has given me more satisfation than to have shown them around, bits and pieces of Europe, suggesting the local cuisines and drinks, taking long walks and river-cruise rides, explaining extensive details about each place, and, living a dream with them. What more can one ask for. 

I desperately try to get back to old routines, ignore the occassional lumps in the throat and do justice to the innumerable attempts made to cheer me up. I tell myself that it's just a matter of half a year until I see them again. Half a year, it seems like ages. I wait.