Thursday, June 18, 2009

Anticlimaxes & Balls

Bad Manners

The strange green light bathed the small boat in its luminescence. The boy and the girl in the boat oblivious to its presence were locked in a liplock was not meant to be opened by any key made by hands of men. Their hands roamed over each other and their bodies hot and feverish rocked the boat to and fro in the calm water of the river. All calm, except the green light that was now increasing in its intensity. It enveloped the boat like a light fog and slowly started pouring itself into the boat.

A tentacled figure rose out of the fog, and hovered silently over the boat. It observed the entangled couple with the interest a child shows in a new game.
The girl opened her eyes mid-kiss, noticed the floating tentacles and leapt off the boy with a startled yelp. The boy looked around confused at the green mist that was now covering half their boat and tried to calm the girl, but his own rising panic was enough to send the girl into a crying fit of hysteria.

"YOU!" thundered the green tentacled figure and pointed at the girl. The girl stopped crying at once, her tears choked back by the fear of the unknown.

"It's bad manners," the floating form said, "to open your eyes when kissing."


Really Bad Manners


The Urge

There were times in his life when he could not control it. The urge bubbled inside him like something alive and potent, kicking and screaming to be let out. He stared at the girl sitting across the table. His first date in many years and he was feeling that old old desire again.

What will she think of me if I do it?

Will she leave, or will she strike me in disgust?

Words rumbled and jumbled in his head, he had to find a way soon or there was going to be trouble. He looked behind him at saw a waiter in the pathway, if only he could reach his leg to the side and trip him and spill those drinks…he found out in a second that he could.

The waiter missed seeing the leg and was soon making acquaintance with the cold floor in a puddle of the drinks he was carrying. Some of it, as intended spilled on the skirt and top of the girl.

"Excuse me dear, I have to use the rest room." she said and left.

He smiled contentedly, gave in to his urge and started to suck his thumb.


"Balls! Balls! Balls!" the Ballseller hollered at the top of his voice. "Battered in love and fucked up in life? Need some guts, to talk to the wife? Come one, come all, come and get some balls."

The market was held every full moon under the big bridge. This was one night when the few shopped for things weird and amazing, for things unseen and unheard of. The price was paid in Stories. Stories were a funny currency, for every shopkeeper in the market wanted a story from anyone who wanted to buy something.

A boy walked up to the Ballseller. "I'd like to buy a pair . . I want the biggest balls you have" he said.

His feverish and tiny body made it look like he needed a warm meal more than a pair of balls. "Ha, ok" said the shopkeeper and rummaged into his pack for the biggest pair of balls he could find. The boy stepped into the shop and took the balls in both hands. The shopkeeper looked at him expectantly, waiting for his Story.

"Once," the boy began, "a boy with the biggest pair of balls won the hand of a Ballseller's daughter, only because he had the biggest pair of balls."

The Ballseller guffawed like a horse and said, "You got some balls, kid."


Balls, we all need a pair.

Wednesday, June 10, 2009

I AM . . . . .

I have observed it so closely, but happening only on the opposite side of the net. I have been so close to victory, yet I have ended in defeat.

I have seen this moment touch me momentarily and then go far, far away into oblivion.

I have heard my fans chant my name vigorously, yet I have seen myself getting smashed to smithereens.

I have known the expectations, the tension, the trepidation and then the hollowness, the point of no-return — the loss.

Yet I have survived—I have seen death from close vicinity for three times but I had the courage to live on.

The zeal kept me going, the belief kept my heart throbbing, the optimism kept my blood rushing through my veins.

Yes, at this very familiar place, I have seen myself picking up my tattered soul after a bloodless battle and live on for that one last opportunity, that one last chance to turn an emaciated soul into an enlivened one.

The faith, the trust, and the everlasting desire pushed me through.

And here I am standing on the brink of history on Championship Point waiting for my opponent to commit that one last error.

And yes—he does it!

I fall down on my knees. I bury my face into my hands, my eyes welled up with tears.

I don’t want this special moment to end: let me savour it—let the time freeze forever. It’s all so surreal; I can live a thousand lives and die a thousand deaths at this very moment.

Yes, this is the moment I have waited for so patiently for such a long time, the moment that I had so desperately wanted to witness to emulate the career Slam feat of my idol Rod Laver.

Today I am there.

Yes, I rise like a Champion, as The One destined.

Finally, Roland Garros has been conquered like i earlier conquered Wimbledon, Australia and the Flushing Meadows

The Paris clay doesn't seem so merciless any more and the world has never seemed a nicer place where self-belief is still rewarded.

My hands are risen skywards to pay my gratitude to the Almighty who had helped me to comprehend the profound importance of the words "belief" and "hope" — the two very words that had been my very lifeline for the last three years.

And I hear the applause that is finally embracing The Deserving Victor with open arms — the very applause that had eluded me for so long.

Yes, I have finally realised my dream.

Yes, I am the winner of the French Open 2009, the co-holder of the record-equalling feat of 14 Grand Slams and only the 6th person ever to win all the 4 Grand Slams.

Yes, I am Roger Federer.

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