Fight of the Phoenixes

When I first heard about the clash between Roger Federer and Rafael Nadal I was teleported to my childhood to a memory which still defines my love for the game. The persona and class with which Federer carried himself to the game in his early days resonated within the young teenagers like me. He was fighting with the greats or probably the greatest of the time and with every victory, he was inspiring millions around the world and demolishing the invincible tag associated with those legends. The entry of Rafael Nadal changed the equations for better. As an arrogant fan, I was taken aback when Federer’s Greatest Ever tag was being tarnished with every battle fought between the champs. Still, my love for Federer grew with his every victory and defeat and my hatred for Nadal turned into admiration. In the process, I somewhere convinced myself that “If I am watching Federer play or even keeping a track of the game “He” will lose”. In last 7 years, I have seen a couple of his matches and kept a track of few. He LOST all of them. My resolve that I am a bad luck for him grew stronger.

On the 27th January, I came across the news that the history was repeating itself with William Sisters on Saturday Final and probably the Greatest Ever Men’s Final will be played on Sunday. My instant reaction was that I will keep myself busy on Sunday so busy that I do not even remember about the greatest match. On the fateful Sunday Morning, I saw a Facebook Post of my friend who was there to witness the saga along with his wife. “Oh God !! what did I do”. I cursed myself for forgetting about the match. I said sorry to you a hundred times in my head and searched for your forgiveness but there was none to be found. I kept my phone aside and made myself busy and trying hard not to remember and yes I did succeed. It was the news notification of your victory that brought me to senses and then took them away in an instant. I was smiling like a crazy man who got the best news of his life and yes indeed it was “It was the news I had waited for nearly 5 years”. Since then I have seen your reaction a few hundred times. That pure display of raw emotions confirmed my belief that even you have a child in you that drives your emotions. Those tears were proof of how much you wanted it to happen. It was your love for the game that drove you to the pinnacle of the World of Tennis. For many, it was a “Dream Finale”, “Fan Fantasy Finale” and what not, but for me, it was “Fight of the phoenixes “. Those two phoenixes rose not from the ashes but their burnt careers which were nearly over after the series of injuries. They both went back to the cradle to learn and practice again, similar to a youngling and then they burnt the entire world. This final was not just about Dreams, it was about hope, courage, grit, compassion and friendship. Thank you, Roger, for winning it, your win gives me strength to fight on, desire to crave for it like a child, and fire to fight it till the end. I don’t know if my jinx has been lifted up or you forgave me but I will not test my luck and I will still not track your matches.

Your Fan.

It didn’t rhyme

I wrote a poem once and it didn’t rhyme

I thought I didn’t know how to write

It was only later that I realized what I had written

It was not enveloped in those phony words

It did not show the struggle of changing lines to match

What I had written… was raw

And I did this because what happened to me was raw

Because the only words which rhymed with my fear were Near and Dear

Like my predator

There was no rhythm in his hands when he groped me

There was only hurry

For me fury rhymed with hurry.

Or so I thought because that was the closest emotion for which I could find a word for

He knew my fears because he was near… and dear

It pained me at places I never knew could hurt so bad.

Though as a consolation he used to brush my hair in the end

I always cried when I wanted something bad.. be it a toy or a chocolate..

But for the first time I cried because I didn’t want.. what you were giving me.. DAD

See it rhymed there.. Bad and Dad.. Like my fear.. Near and Dear..

 

When I read that poem again

I had flashbacks of that pain.

At that time I hated myself because I did not know what to say

And now when I found the courage to write

I hated myself because I didn’t know that perfect line.

I hated myself because I didn’t know how to make my struggle RHYME…

 

 

PS: Image credit google : thequint.com

Alan Kurdi

Remember remember 2nd of September

The refugee crisis and war…

I know of no reason

Why the refugee crisis

Should ever be forgot!!

Uncle and his companions

Did the scheme contrive,

To blow up the Middle Earth

All up alive.

Fields of oil, laid below,

To rationale old civilization’s overthrow.

But, by hell’s guidance, them they formed,

With black flags, decapitating souls!!

They raped their own

For Allah’s sake!!

If you won’t give me oil,

I’ll take from you,

It’s better for me,

And I will make it worse for you.

War, war, for pride’s sake,

A Barrel of Bombs to choke them,

Mediterranean Sea to drown,

And reigning fire from air to burn them.

Holloa, boys! Holloa, boys! Make the bells ring! (World Economies)

Holloa, boys! Holloa, boys! Death save us from this KING!

Hip, hip, hooor-r-ray!

 

PS: Alan Kurdi drowned a year ago in Mediterranean Sea and his death spoke to the world in a manner in which cries of million couldn’t.