Travelling Times

"I build a team, and we compensate by creating a style of play, by creating a culture at the club because the boy comes in at 16 or 17 and when they go out they have a supplement of soul, of love for the club, because they have been educated together." 6 years back, I wrote  this post . And there's a specific reason why I chose to publish this one before the game tonight against Athletico Madrid, because the outcome doesn't change anything. Arsenal might go on to win the Europa League and it might be a fairytale exit for  man who has toiled hard for 22 years. Or, we might flounder and reason that it's best to see Wenger go. For a man who has repeatedly been judged, tarnished and humiliated by fans, ex-players and the British media, spare a thought. He's not superman in a puffer jacket, just an honest man who tried his best to protect the club he loves. And if his walking away is the solution to all problems, so be it. In today's world, Hone

“When real people fall down in life, they get right back up and keep on walking.” - Michael King This post has been on the backburner for over 6 weeks now and the drought has no correlation with my current location, 14,305 Kms (8,888 mi, can’t disappoint my negligible reader base in the US of A) away from home. 9 months; this length of time has never been more significant in my life. Do we remember our childhoods? Yes, to a certain degree. I remember most parts of my life since the time I was 3. Not every single day, but the significant aspects of it. But do we remember how we learnt to walk, to run and perhaps, to jump? I remember my first race. I had to run to one end, put my cap on, run back and pick up my bag, and finally run to the finish line. I even remember my prize, a disposable Kodak camera. As I stood on top of the pedestal, I felt light. Over the years, my parents would joke that the wind helped me get to the finish line quicker than everyone else. In an ins

“When the snows fall and the white winds blow, the lone wolf dies but the pack survives.”   As my phone display flickers for a moment, the banner notifies the first of many messages that find their way into my Whatsapp. Neither the likes of forwarded messages nor brain-wrecking “IAS” questions. Surprisingly, it’s the roll-call of group members preparing for a weekly rendezvous at a sparsely populated ground. 6 am is never too early for the Weekenders. In the summer of 2013, I felt unfit for the first time in my entire life. I had enrolled for a 5k run and left it mid-way, huffing and puffing. Since my wedding in late 2011, I had been cruising on the path of gluttony with no barriers holding me back. My waistline seemed to enjoy this unprecedented stroke of prosperity and a youthful exuberance seemed to give way to middle-aged maturity. On one of my weekend travails supporting Arsenal, I ran into this group of passionate youngsters (well, a large majority of th

“Evolution teaches us the original purpose of language was to ritualize men's threats and curses, his spells to compel the gods; communication came later.” – Gene Wolfe This post has been on the backburner for a really long time (9 months to be precise) and is the result of a series of events triggered over time. Quite unfortunate that Mr. Mandela & Messrs Khushwant Singh lost their patience waiting for me to publish this one. And as the last few icons of my generation fade away, I can only be thankful for being part of a special timeline in the evolution of mankind. From television to telepresence, the intensity &acceptance of change has been unbelievable. In the midst of last week, my cousin sent me three text messages in the space of 60 seconds (At 160 characters, the Short message service is so long). Each message contained not more than a couple of words. And I wondered, if communication is still a premium service shackled by cost & time. On July 14,