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Thursday, August 12, 2010

Instant Inspiration!

It was the eleventh of july, 23:55. I was awake and waiting. So was more than half the human race. There was soccer and excitement in the air, all around –in every living room of the li’l colony I live in, and on my wall on facebook as well. Every third second on fb, saw a new status update, some cheering on the orange Dutchmen and the others siding the Spanish 11, everyone on tenterhooks to see if Paul’s prophecies were right.
A soccer game, usually the last thing on my list, was right there on top, this day. The mood everywhere was electrifying. In spite of my drowsiness, I was going to stay up all night to watch it all. There was no way I was going to miss this must-see.
I stayed glued to the tv screen, till some point when I think I dozed off, only to wake up to see the 85th minute with no score yet. The game went on that way for quite a while. There were so many missed opportunities by the Spanish, a few that made me jump, just to fall back on the couch a second later, in dejection. Most of the extra thirty minutes went on this way, with neither team scoring. 13 yellow cards were issued, with De Jong kicking Alonso so hard on the chest, for a second seemed like I was watching wrestling, rather than soccer. So went the game, a combo of yellow cards and missed chances.
And then came that moment, out of the blue, when Iniesta maneuvering the ‘Jo’bulani (yeah! I do skim through the news paper) impeccably, kicked it flawlessly into the nets, leaving Maarten Stekelenburg dismayed and upset. Up went the Spanish faction, cheering passionately. It was wild. It was crazy. Casillas’ men ran around in ecstasy, unable to contain the glee. I watched Casillas cry in overwhelming happiness. I was inspired, instantly.
The match continued. The match ended. However, the Dutch couldn’t recuperate. They were beaten, outclassed. Spain was the better team that day. They had won it, the World cup, after 2 lost finals. They had made it finally, under the brilliance of Casillas’ captaincy. They were elated. Words can never ever illustrate the level of magnitude of the happiness. The elation was high. It was emotional. Victory seemed so beautiful. Urged me to want the feeling, incited me to desire to win.
I went to bed that night, inspired.

Sunday, August 1, 2010

Let me free!

When college suspends one guy for fagging, makes it an issue when a girl’s texts suggest she is in a relationship (don’t wonder how they read her texts, they don’t believe in privacy!), when the warden tells me what not to wear to the girls’hostel’s mess (no exaggeration!), when people have a problem if my dad chooses to buy me a phone with a camera, and the problem gets bigger if I’m on the phone after ten and and the worst of all, when they don’t let me step out of the campus when I feel like - not for a meal, or even just a stroll, I wonder. I wonder, what the logic behind all this is. Do they think restriction leads to what they term discipline?

I’ve two things to say to them. First, Not talking to people of the opposite gender and wrapping myself in layers of clothes, doesn’t make me disciplined. If you think it does, you’ve got a lot of thinking to do, before complete comprehension. Second, restriction doesn’t help. Get creative. Try other methods.

‘Discipline’ is the word I hate the most in English. It’s the least understood word, the most misinterpreted word, yet the most used word by every random person who loves to throw around free advice. These people, who believe it’s their responsibility to enlighten us, assume a girl is undisciplined when her hair isn’t tied up, a guy lacks discipline when he has a li’l longer-than-usual length hair. And the common rule for all young people, it’s indiscipline to have head phones on or play music loud.

Leaving aside this ignorance, and moving on, even if they want a non-smoking, single young man or woman who is a tee-totaller and completely covered , restriction is the last method that will work. It’s not rules that make a person, it’s a person’s beliefs and opinions that make him/her what he/she is. Once an adult, a person should be allowed to choose what is right for him. Surely, any 18 year old deserves this autonomy. This is what learning to live one one’s own is all about, and ironically, that’s the reason why one goes to a hostel. Sadly, we are all denied this choice. Restriction only causes frustration, and prolonged frustration will only lead to burst-outs. I write this out of frustration, that’s been building up for a long time now.

Rectifying a misconception is out of question when one denies its existence. So as long as this realization doesn’t happen, I guess we will all have to toy around with the rules, and find our way out.