The Wonder Years

The Wonder Years is probably my favorite sitcom. When I was a kid in Jubail and Kuwait, I remember not religiously following the show like I did some others. But I do remember that whenever I managed to catch an episode or two of the series, I left it completely enriched. Enriched with the goodness, the humor and the pure emotional depth the show projected. Compared to a lot of the instant entertainment shows dished out on television these days, this kind of show lingers in the memory.

So recently, when I got all the seasons of the Wonder Years again to watch, I started going through them slowly. Kevin Arnold played wonderfully by Fred Savage, and the voiceover of the adult Kevin given heart rendingly by Daniel Stern (the less informed watchers may remember him as one of the robbers in the first two Home Alone movies). Kevin’s family, including his grouchy but caring dad, his fussy mom, his elder sister with her liberal attitudes and his irritating bully of a big brother, Wayne. His best friend Paul. And, of course… his childhood sweetheart, Winnie. The story of Winnie and Kevin is what runs through the narrative of the six seasons, sometimes in the background. They may have gone in between to other partners, but there was always a sense, that they had a happy ending waiting for them. It takes till the final episode of the final season to find out if they did indeed have one. The chemistry between them was delightful, from the first episode of the first season when they were supposed to be twelve.

The show is set during Kevin’s growing up years in a middle class suburban neighborhood in the US, during the turbulent 60’s. The episodes dealt with a wide range of issues, all examined poignantly and innocently from the point of view of this kid. Family feuds’, first love, friendship, school, the Vietnam war… Who can forget the episode of Kevin inadvertently initiating a walkout in his school to protest the war? Or the one in which he and Winnie share their first kiss. And the bittersweet final episode.

For everyone fed on a diet of today’s shows, mostly lacking in emotional depth or resilience, I would suggest checking out Kevin Arnold’s world. And remembering a time probably long gone.

A Night of Debauchery... Rewind!

I remember ending up in a barf at ArS’ apartment in Goregaon around 4 in the morning. If I rewind from there, I remember a long taxi drive with AP sleeping, Ars (being the tanker of energy he is) singing an old mallu poem (one which I have always liked, about a mom and her 12 kids and the mad one) and me keeping barely awake and trying to make even the mildest of senses of what ArS was on about. Oh, the taxi drive across the length of Mumbai from Colaba to Goregaon was delightful as always. It had started at that mouth watering roadside eatery in Colaba, Bade Miyan, when the three of us, half out of our senses and with almost overflowing tanks, told the driver to find a loo for us first. Thankfully he did.

Though I don’t remember this time much of what I had at Bade Miyan, I do remember before that we had gone to a local bar ‘Gokul’, where we saw the cheapest vodka on the menu and had two large pegs each of it. I don’t even remember the name. Alkazar? Oh, and a couple of omelets. That probably finally knocked us out. That was probably around 2 AM. Don’t you just love this place? Now since I have started reliving this night backwards, I remember 20 minutes before reaching Gokul, we had entered the sports bar near Leopold’s. And spent barely ten minutes inside it and spent close to 2 grand. As far as I can remember, the sequence involved, walking into the sports bar, mild interest in the cricket goin’ on on the tube, sitting at the bar on three high stools and asking the bartender for three Tequila shots. This was downed in a matter of seconds and we ordered the next round. Then we asked for the bill, paid and got the hell out.

Going back from there… we had taken a taxi from the area near Not Just Jazz by the Bay and Mocha to reach here. Why? Coz after all the effort and miles walked from one end of Colaba to the other to find the famous ‘Gaylord’ (yea, yea… that is the name… but its actually supposed to be the best for continental food!), we realized they were closing down. Not even 1 AM!! Jazz did not serve hard drinks outside, and the Mocha across the street only had strong beer. Naah!! However, the way from Leopolds to Gaytown, uh..lord I mean… was pretty interesting. I remember the Sundance bar and restaurant, where we got in, ordered Antiquity blue (2 larges again), ordered delicious beef and talked at the top of our voices about… what? I think it was about girls, sexual conquests (limited ) and condoms. I sure hope no patrons were offended. But then again, if you are stuck in these places at midnight with sensitive people, you deserve it.

Now this brings us back, almost, to the start of the journey from Leo’s and what inspired this night of debauchery (lol). Our aim had started out to taste the continental delicacies of Gaylord (man, why cant they change the name??), we had started by coming across Café Royale. Now we hadn’t heard of this place. But once inside we realized even Bill Clinty (presumably in his pre-Monicagate days) had sneaked in a visit here. They had the most amazing cheesecakes. And along with the cheesecakes we had a couple of pegs of amazing Russian Vodka (naturally). Wow… blueberry cheesecake and Russian Vodka. I GOT to try that again!

In between all this, I also have vague memories of smokin’ away to glory on the footpaths and also helping an African lady win back one rupee from a shopkeeper tryin’ to harass the poor thing. Though seeing her size I really did wonder if even without my altruistic intervention she may been ok. Maybe it’s the shopkeeper who should be thankful. She looked pretty angry even when she told me thanks.
Oh and did I mention this started off in Leopolds with a double pitcher of beer and sausages? At the earthly hour of 9 PM when even the ladies, Poo and ApS were with us… Thank God we packed them off early that night!

Here’s to more drunken revelries with the indomitably BIG duo of ArS and AP!!!

K'naan - Wavin' Flag

I love this song. This truly captures the spirit of the world cup of football. My favorite world cup song since Ricky Martin's Cup of Life back in France '98.
The singer K'naan is a Somali-Canadian poet, rapper, singer, and musician.
Let the party begin!!


When i get older i will be
stronger they'll call me freedom just
like a wavin flag

When i get older i will be
stronger they'll call me freedom just
like a waving flag
and then it goes back (3x)
ahhho ahhho ahhho

Born to a throne
stronger than Rome
but violent prone
poor people zone
but its my home
all i have known
where i got grown
streets we would roam

out of the darkness
i came the farthest
among the hardest survive
learn form these streets
it can be bleak
accept no defeat
surrender retreat
(so we struggling)
fighting to eat
(and we wondering)
when we will be free
so we patiently wait
for that faithful day
its not far away
but for now we say

when i get older i will be
stronger they'll call me freedom just
like a waving flag
and then it goes back (3x)

ahhho ahhho ahhho

so many wars
settling scores
bring us promises
leaving us poor
i heard them say
love is the way
love is the answer
thats what they say

but look how they treat us
make us believers
we fight their battles
then they deceive us
try to control us
they couldn't hold us

cause we just move forward
like buffalo soldiers
(but we strugglin)
fighting to eat
(and we wondering)
when we will be free
so we patiently wait
for that faithful day
its not far away
but for now we say

when i get older i will be
stronger they'll call me freedom just
like a waving flag
and then it goes back (3x)

and then it goes when i get older i will be
stronger they'll call me freedom just
like a wavin flag
and then it goes back (3x)
ahhhooo ahhhoooo ahhhooo

and everybody will be singing it
and you and i will be singing it
and we all will be singing it
wo wah wo ah wo ah

when i get older i will be
stronger they'll call me freedom just
like a wavin flag
and then it goes back (3x)

and then it goes when i get older i will be
stronger they'll call me freedom just
like a wavin flag
and then it goes back (3x)
a oh a oh a oh

when i get older
when i get older
i will be stronger

just like a wavin flag (3x)
flag flag
just like a wavin flag

For anyone who wants to watch a nice little montage of moments with this song:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eMAy7cG03rk&feature=related

Sports... A Great Leveler

India’s T20 World Cup campaign got off, as expected, with a win against rank outsiders Afghanistan. While the victory was expected, this was a match I was looking forward to watching, purely out of a curiosity about the romance surrounding Afghanistan’s march to probably their first major sporting event.

Sports, in its basic form, is just another form of entertainment, like the movies. Of course, the passion and fervor with which some people follow the games makes it seem like the sportsmen are sometimes going off to war for their country. Though I do love watching football and to a lesser extent, cricket, I have always guffawed at the notion people (spectators) have that people who play international sports should be treating it as almost a war and should not be swayed by commercial concerns. Pretty silly, if you ask me. A sportsperson knows he will be at the top for only a short period in his life, and there is absolutely nothing wrong if he uses that period to do as well as he can. As long as he gives it his all on the field.

However, there are times, when sports manages to transcend the glitz and gold that seems to symbolize the best sporting endeavors these days. Every once in a while, a story like the Afghans’ comes along which makes you realize the power this medium can have over nations. I don’t know how much of it is mere romance created by the media, but it does bring a lump to the throat to think of these men who made their way from refugee camps in a country which has been ravaged by endless wars, as one group after another lay claim to its disillusioned landscape and people. I wonder how hopeless the situation would have seemed for these men just a few years back when the oppressive rule of the Taliban was coming to an end in the bloodiest circumstances possible. They joined the lower divisions of the cricket leagues a mere few years back. And now they find themselves on the world stage, after barely missing the qualification to the 50 over event next year. Whatever their chances, I’m sure the Afghans savored the moment when their national anthem was played at the early start in the St. Lucia stadium.

This is not the only occasion this has happened. I remember being touched when I read towards the end of the last century how the then Yugoslav football players payed their own way to be a part of the global event that is the Football world cup at France ’98, as the country just didn’t have the funds. Now, of course, there is no more Yugoslavia. Similarly, what a source of pride it was for Croatia when their team not only qualified but, astonishingly, finished third at the same event. Theirs was a young nation then, and this would have helped them. Football, being almost a religion in itself, would have a lot more of these stories. However, there are significant instances of the power of sport in other disciplines as well. The black power salute by American athletes at the 1960 Olympics. Or how cricket passed a big message to the rest of the world when they banned South Africa from international competition for more than 2 decades, on account of the human rights violations under the despicable apartheid governments. When the same country finally got rid of the shackles of apartheid, Nelson Mandela saw the rugby world cup which South Africa hosted and won in 1995 as a means of uniting the country after years of separation between the whites and other races.

Afghanistan will, in all probability, not last beyond the first round in the West Indies. But they may have already won their own kind of battle. The most important one.