random scribbling

It has been raining like hell in pune. In bits and pieces... seems these drops fall with the sole objective of soaking you wet and then all of a sudden there's a respite. the clouds subside and the sun comes out for a change ( only for a short while ..) the shoes are as wet as clouds and the denims are as dirty as the overflowing drains. there is not much to lean on but coffee, the blogging business, the random jottings and my love of Quantum mechanics.

the rain has brought out a particular event which was lying obscured all this while in some nook of my stupid brain . the contents of this post was not premeditated but rains are like that. they moisten even the driest and the most unfathomable of memories.

I was not so much friends with a boy. we did not get along very well though our parents were good friends. the patriarchs of both the households were college buddies. but we two, the school kids, were all about sticks and blood. ( ok..not so savage but still ...!!) . one Sunday, some 14 boys from my school decided to assemble in Regal playground ( a green and lush playground in my hometown) and have a game of soccer. I am no MARADONA and football is all about skills and running like a hare. unfortunately a log like me walks around the park and just fools around with the mighty sphere ( thy name is football). still, a game with your friends is a tricky way to extract whatever enmity they might be harbouring somewhere in their hearts. tell you what, feelings expressed in a game are never adulterated with manipulations. the emotions that come out when you struggle for the ball and when you shove & push to carry the ball ahead and dart it in the net are real. you know you are playing your heart out. Games make you honest. the envelope of formality is chucked out.

but as it were, the clouds spoiled the party. There is nothing like a soccer game in a wet field. you run( rejuvenated automatically by the drops ), you smear yourself with mud . also sweat and rain drops are an intoxicating combo. the puddles are trampled by the soccer boots. that day, I felt like having a wet game and anyways my house was the nearest to the playground . so I was game for the GAME , come what may.

only one among the the promised quorum turned up. no prizes for guessing. It was him. the foe supremo. I had a ball with me but the crew was not something I could savor. the kinda helplessness we feel when the restaurant is great but the diners are boring. but we decided to carry on with the game. can't explain what went in my head then or how on earth did he acquiesce to my indecent proposal ( hey guys!!! nothing like that...) . perhaps each one of us wanted to prove that we were better than the other. one acted as the goal keeper and other tried his leg ( not hand) at the football. we dived in the channels of water and hit the ball with all the crudeness.

at the end of the game what was left was a sense of remorse and all our ill-feelings were washed away. . the game left us humbled, pacified. I left home with wounds to nurse. the poison that had embittered us had been neutralized.we started playing thinking that we would outsmart each other. then the rain got the better of us.

still when I see small kids playing and diving in the fields, I smile. if not always, then at times, facts are stranger than fiction.