ZoHammer : The Tale of a Football Lover

In less than half an hour, West Ham will kick off their last season based in the iconic Boleyn ground, Upton Park, with an away game to Arsenal. And as a true Claret and Blue Hammer, i obviously want us to win the match, though logic and common sense state that a draw itself would be a very good result. 
In the buildup to this, there was a question, or rather a statement, made in a local football whatsapp group that basically stated the chatter's bemusement at why any Mizo football fan would be a West Ham supporter. I chose to reply that with a simple 'the same reason I love football' line and refused to be baited further into the matter. 
This was not by any means the first time I'd been asked a similar line of questioning and I've mostly chosen to give a short, concise answer because I don't want to sound eagerly defensive like a petulant child. 
That being said, I guess it brought to my mind that I would maybe like to address the issue in a format that would give me both the space and freedom to describe exactly what it is that makes me an ardent member of The Irons.

Another factor that piqued my desire to write on this subject was a recent Twitter article i was a part of. I am a member of the Indian Hammers group, a group of fans who are either based in India, or have Indian roots and are united by our common love of West Ham United. 
It is an admittedly humble group with about 20 core active members and over 100 total in the Whatsapp group roster. I was one of the first members of this group and also the first Mizo member (there are 3 Mizo West Ham fans, 2 besides me, if there are any others, please feel free to contact me to join up) and am a very active member of the group. 
We have a modest amateur website, as well as an official Twitter handle and online community that is recognised by our club's official group. 
Recently, the Indian Hammers admin had an idea to do a series of interviews with each member of our group to give an idea about our passion and publish it on Twitter for others to see, and i volunteered and was chosen to be the first person to do this interview. 
When I was given the required questions and blanks to fill, it really got me going in my head and heart as I did a bit of soul searching to give these answers the most genuine possible and I have decided to publish these here in my blog in a more detailed non-Twitter confined form.

One of the things i wanted to avoid when i started getting into football was to be a 'plastic' fan of a club - one of those fans who liked a club only for superficial reasons like peer-popularity and/or fashionable choice. I was lucky enough to meet a lot of genuine fans of various clubs, who had a story to say about how they got hooked and had a heartfelt reason to support the teams that they did and I wanted to be one of them. And of course, me being a believer in serendipity, figured that when the time came, i would just know when to support a team, so I didn't actively search out a particular fanbase to be a part of.
In a way, you can say that my love of West Ham is built on A Tale of 3 Goals.

 
Its silly to admit, but my love of West Ham started with a game of PES back in the 05-06 season. Losing a toss with a friend, i had to choose a low ranked team, one of the newly promoted teams of that season, while my opponent got to choose his favorite club, Manchester United. I was already familiar with West Ham at the time due to Di Canio, who was one of my favorite players to watch when i first really got into football. Keep in mind that this was the time when Manchester United was an all conquering team, and their stats were through the roof, i was fully expecting to get drubbed. Nonetheless, I fought on, and after a see-saw match which saw its fair share of cards and fouls, a last minute Bobby Zamora winner ensured a 3-2 win with ecstatic post-match celebrations. The look of devastation on my friend's face was an inverted reflection of the happiness on mine.
This was Goal #1, and so West Ham had my interest piqued.
Amazingly, it was around this time that West Ham started on that incredible run to the FA cup final until THAT Gerrard goal stopped it, and that's what secured my interest as i started seriously following them as a team. The unexpected wins, the confidence building up, the desire to get an unforeseen cup, and the heartbreak of seeing it go down in the last few minutes after a wondergoal from England's greatest midfield talent when it comes to wondergoals.
Goal #2.
This interest was finally sealed off into fanhood with the rollercoaster of emotions that I and every Hammer experienced in the next season. The amount of abuse i got hurled my way for backing them through the pitfalls and the horrible performances, the turn of face that happened later in the season as we won 7 of our last 9 games which climaxed with THAT Tevez goal against, ironically enough, Manchester United that secured one of the greatest relegation escapes in history. 
Goal #3.
The first goal was the twist of fate, the one that alerted my destiny.
The second goal was the building of respect, the one where my admiration for a resilient dark horse was built.
And the third goal was the forging of bonds, the one where I decided to stick by a team through ups and downs in a season, and experienced the vindication that comes from backing a triumphant, resilient underdog.
Obviously, there were other reasons along the way, such as discovering the incredible history of the club and feeling at one with the passion of the fans through all odds and Ups and Downs. And so my identity as a Hammer was forged and now, whether we vie for Europe or whether we were fighting for promotion in the Championship, my soul as a sporting fan is now set with West Ham United FC.

Edit : This post was drafted before our opening match of the season, just before we kicked it off in the best possible way with a win away against one of the title contenders of the season and our London rivals, Arsenal. Come On You Irons!!! (COYI!!!) :D :D :D

Mixtape of my soul

Before i start writing about what this post is actually about, a small foreword. This is my first post of the year, and also the first post in a year that i aim to publish. Its not that i have lost my zest to write or think about what to write, on the contrary, i have a lot of posts, random and of different subjects, that i have written and saved as drafts, some fully fleshed out, others still just the seeds to greater works. This is more to do with the change in my approach to living, though minute, that has lead me to embrace more brief yet fleetingly passionate avenues of expressing myself.

So finally, to shake off all the dust, i kept wondering what i wanted to first write about. Would it be all the (mostly) negatively tinged material i have built up over the last year or would it be more a random, aimless post to get my writing synapses firing?
Well, i guess what they say is true : When in doubt, stick to what you know. Or rather stick to what drives you as a base emotion. And obviously for me, that is music.

*Foreword done*

Ah Music. I've waxed poetic and eloquently about its aphrodisiac effects as well as spewed forth fire and vitriol defending its addictive quality. Of all the passions in my life, music has to be the one most naturally connected to the center of my being. Everyone has varying interest in music, not to mention the various kinds and types of music. Ranging from the soft to the hard, the simple to the complex, the fluid to the jarring, there is a type of music for nearly every niche of society. In fact, i believe music is as much a watermark for a timeperiod as are science and literature. This post though, is not about music as a whole, or an exploration of its limitless variety and appeal, but rather a much more personal take on music.

Basically, this post answers the question, what type of music do i listen to, how and why. Not as definitive questions, but rather a more retrospective, psychological insight.

As is the case with most unorphaned, unfostered children, my parents were the genesis of my musical foundation. My father was a Beatles fan, with the odd passion for a bit of Queen and a few other golden oldies. My mother was a true late 80's, early 90's pop-rock enthusiast, her favorite band being Guns N Roses and her musical taste ranging from the shared love of Abba with my father to the more voyeuristic tendencies of Madonna, Cyndi Lauper et al.
[Note : I never truly fell in love with the Beatles.
Yup. I said that out loud.
But before you get your mop-top loving, pop-rock quartet worshipping sentiments in a rage, let me explain that.
I do not LOVE the Beatles in the vein of all the zealousness and deification that is given to them by those fans of theirs that claim to truly love them. I actually like them a lot, not to mention i completely respect and honour their place at the pantheon of contemporary music. In fact, i even admit that as a single group, they have been the most influential in the history of popular music. Not only in terms of the actual number of people, because that's just a pop figure, but in terms of the different genres and avenues that they have influenced, in every medium not just the aural.
When i say i do not love the Beatles, i mean that apart from a few songs, i will probably never think to switch to a Beatles song in my playlist manually to listen to it.]

Now, to the reason for the title of this post.

Growing up in the environ i did, the everchanging, non-stable life i had as a kid, the way i listened to music was an amalgamation of my mother's tapes and cds and my dad's old records with the combination of a lot of improvisation. Basically, between my dad, my mom and all the random music that came up on the radio/television/local tamil hits on the megaphones, i never approached music in a traditional albumwise format. Not until i was old enough to understand the phenomenon that was boy-band music (ANY guy who claims not to have been in that phase and grew up in the same period i did is either lying or was never exposed to popular culture) did i buy a tape dedicated to a whole, single musical outfit.

Instead, we had the MIXTAPE.

What is the mixtape, you ask? Well it was the portable, magnetic disk version of a winamp/itunes playlist, only with no automatic song select, much much MUCH smaller song selections and definitely no shuffling. Each tape fit around 7-10 songs per side (depending on the length of the songs) and you had to listen to each song before going to the next. Sure, you could fast forward, but it was irritating and it wasn't exact so you couldn't know whether you forwarded too far or too less. Since we couldn't get professional cassette tapes in the rural areas we initially lived in, my mom had to either make or get made mixtapes which were basically collections of various artists' songs crammed into the tapes. It sounds tedious now, in our fast service centred world, but there was a certain magic to listening to music that way. You learnt to appreciate the chemistry of the songs, the way each song individually affected your mood and how the ordering of the songs wrote your emotions like a writer on an emotional soul searching journey.

I have a Mixtape mentality to listening to music.

As a result of these factors, i learnt to listen to various kinds of music and appreciate their own unique appeal. I learnt that music works in different ways for different people and that even if you think a song isn't that good, whoever made the mixtape valued the songs that you didn't appreciate as much as the ones you did. I learnt to be able to focus my interests in the songs that really captured me, cos only the songs that truly moved me and got my attention were the ones i would actively search out a tape for.

Even now, this still persists. This mentality is why i so know my identity when it comes to me and my music. I use the phrase 'I listen to everything' and i realise everyone else uses it too (except genre nazis and experts of their tastes in music), but i truly mean it when i do, and i don't use it as an excuse or a cop out to not know what my preferred tastes are. For example, i know i like a particular band a lot when i actually take the time to listen to every song of their album. And maybe if that works out well enough, even more of their albums. Just because i like a particular song of a musician doesn't mean i actively seek out the rest of their stuff because i know that musicians have their flavours and one song might have a completely different mood than the others. So i knew i really liked a musician if i had the urge to go through the gruelling and often unrewarding risk of listening to a whole tape of theirs.

People often mistake my broad range of music as either a lackadaisical approach to music or a very widespread net of knowledge. It is neither. It is a mixtape of all my journeys in music, most of which i never really stopped and entered into the cities along the way, but the ones that i did, the ones that i fell in love with, are forever a piece of my soul.

And the one most defining factor of having this mentality i guess is this : I loved the music i did due to my innate love of the music, and not because of the hate of another form of music. So my like or dislike of a song is a completely instinctual thing rather than one defined by a mindset or a genre-specific mentality.

P.s., This is how i know i'm a rocker, a metalhead to a certain degree. Because of all the different genres of music, its these forms that have more often than not, piqued my interest in discovering the discographies of the artists. 

The Walking Corpse

We are but walking corpses
With the breath of life yet to leave us
Our world is made of structures and rules
all made to give a semblance of necessity
To a people that need purpose
And need a reason to survive
Our actions are governed by the thoughts
Of those who want to create action for action's sake
A large circle, endless in its spiral
We are trapped in the loop of our dimensions
There is nothing essential about us to the earth
For the earth itself is not essential to the universe
And the universe itself exists just so benign may be created,
Or is that its be all and end all?
Give me vitality, Give me inspiration, Give me spirit
But give me nothing, for nothing exists, whereas everything is just a withering dream
The dark of me asks me why life exists
Most of the time now i can answer it
But then from time to time, i know
There is no answer, and that is the truth of it
Yet i exist, for existence's sake,
Covered up by the illusions that make up reality
Take yourself out for a few moments,
From the dregs of society and the daily routine you have been forcefed
And created for yourself to pace yourself with your surroundings
Look for a purpose, and you'll find none
And that itself, is purpose

The tainting of Darian the BareHearted

An excerpt from the chronicles of John Angeldust :

From the tongue of Onema, the thought - "...the battle raged on and in the midst of the falling sunder, the ranger brought the message to Darian, that his beloved, Koria's village had been blackened out from the chain of supply. It wasn't because of any personal reason, it was moreso a simple report of economic strain and how it would affect the war at large. But Darian, the third of the Noric Host, the warrior driven by heart's devotion, broke rank and broke ground to move from his designated field. It was a move that was not noted too decisively by the light, due to the fact that Darian had already kept the field twice as long as he was supposed to. Only the Blackedeyes kept watch from the side of the blessed.

What was not noticed though, by either Light Blackedeye or Dark Shinegazer was the curve on the lips of the Chaos windriders as the sky grew gray closing in on approaching Shiver.

Ainslide, the village at the bank of the river Elume, was always a lively place. It stank of blood and doom as Darian rode in on his steed. There, awaiting him at the head of the hill that overlooked the village, was a figure that appeared unerringly clothed in Black Velvet. It held the bracelet that was the heirloom of the Ain Womanshead, the generations of Koria's lineage. Darian wondered what creature could have done this, not in what it actually did, for he knew, as all Warriors of Light do, what Scions of the Dark were capable of. But what made him wonder this was that with the ongoing war, how could any servant of the black be spared the frontlines, that was powerful enough to break through the wards that protected the village. And when he saw the bracelet of AinLeura, he braced himself because he knew that to obtain that heirloom from his beloved Koria, the hooded figure was atleast as powerful as a Brakken ForceLord, and he steeled himself from lingering thoughts as he realised it did not have the Belt of AinLeura, which meant that Koria was still of breath, and was probably in a hidden place.

And without words, they fought. As a Blessed Light warrior and a Cursed Dark knight do when they meet each other, when an enlightened one meets a darkened soul, as it had always been, and how it was always believed to be, without words, they fought. Darian, as any Blessed warrior, especially one of the Noric Host, knew full well what he fought for, the right and the just, the absolute and the enlightening. He knew what he was fighting against. As he had always been taught to believe. The battle was even, and Darian now wondered how Koria was able to escape given the unrelenting nature and prowess of the Scion he was facing. So engrossed was he, that he failed to notice that a Blackedeye had followed him, armed with a Tome of AllGood, the spellbook from which the mages gather their knowledge, handed down to them from the Source of Light.

They fought to a standstill, and then it appeared. The grey shadow at the entrance to the village. Darian prepared to be taken on both sides. But the grey shadow just lifted up a belt and Darian felt a shiver down his spine, it was the Belt of AinLeura, the belt that granted her Protection from the undoing of Breath. The Belt that empowered Koria with the power she wielded as a force of the light. Without it, she was mortal, and it almost guaranteed she was not of breath.
Darian awakened.
His power which had for some reason always been unable to have been unleashed, even by the spells of the LightMages, spewed forth like a wave of warmth engulfing the village entire.
This was unprecedented.
Darian now possessed the power enow to grant him the status of Heavenly Fire.
And as it engulfed him, he realised he could use it, not as a newborn holding a toy for the first time, but as an experienced worker wielding his tool.
The Blackedeye teleported to him and held his arm, helping Darian to control his aura and focus it into himself.

As he prepared to direct it against the grey shadow, a spell was then cast by the dark scion and with it, a mist appeared that revealed the women of the village all held around them, with a mask of black on their faces.

Darian hesitated.
He knew that if he didn't focus this awakened power soon, he would lose it forever.
Darian doubted and fell to his knee.
Letting it go would mean he loses his power forever but it would mean that Koria may be saved.
Would she be really there? Would she be fine? How could the others be saved? How.......
As he thought this, a light flashed.
Darian was blinded.

His eyes blinked, The bodies of the women lay before him. Only one was left standing.

The Blackedeye knew what it had to do.
It knew that the women would be binded by a spell that meant that if one was saved, the others would perish.
It could see through the masks, but couldn't afford to tell Dorian.
Too less time.
And it made the decision that any lightborn would do.
It chose the most amazing, lightfilled face within the group and saved it with its power.
It had to do it quick.
Darian's power was too valuable to be lost.
It made the BEST decision possible for the Light.

Not for Darian.

As the blackedeye watched, Darian stumbled. Darian moved towards the pile of dead bodies slowly.
Darian picked up the body of a woman with her face as plain as sand. Her vacant eyes, breathless body were unremarkable at worst, standard at best.

Darian looked at the Blackedeye, searching for an explanation.

The Blackedeye pointed at the woman that was Of Breath,
Darian knew it was the best for the light.
That the judgement was of the light.
Darian knew what he had to do now.

He turned back to the blank face of his beloved Koria, lay her down on the ground, stood up and released his power.
AT THE VILLAGE.

Nothing was left, it took just a few moments for the Divine Fire that had been awakened in Darian to wipe out the village, and everything in it, including the Blackedeye, its last recorded memory being it had done right by the light.

Darian knew now, the world is not Black and White. And those who had deceived him, would all die.
Dark AND Light.

I am in Love

I am in love.

I’ve touched her already, felt her hand in mine as we walked down a snowy street
I’ve held her close, under an umbrella as rain poured down close to the bridge over the stream
I’ve looked into her eyes as I said the sweet nothings that one has to say when you’re huddled near a fire.
I’ve danced with her, giggling our way through a slow, clumsy ballroom number
I’ve walked with her, through sunkissed fields of sparse, knee-high wheat and grass
I’ve laughed with her, watching our favourite comedy sprawled on our favourite couch
I’ve whispered in her ears, as we looked across the glass-like lake that stretched before us
I’ve cried with her, sharing her sorrow as she went through a loss in her life
I’ve smiled at her, as she did the wonderful little things that she did so adorably well
I’ve given her a piggyback ride, as we went on a trek together up a mountain
I’ve splashed water at her, as we both ran into the sea with the sun setting in the horizon
I’ve held her up on my shoulders, so that she could see the band performing in the concert better
I’ve waited mock impatiently, as I followed her through the crowded throngs of shoppers in a mall
I’ve fought with her, then apologised and made up with her, over one of the many silly things that life throws at you
I've hugged her hard, seeing her again after i had to leave her side for the short whiles necessary
I’ve fought for her honour, against whoever would stand in her or our way
I’ve been seasick with her, because she wanted to feel the seabreeze from the deck of a seaborne boat
I’ve fed her soup and taken care of her, when she fell sick with one of the maladies of existence
I’ve stared at her while she was asleep, only to close my eyes quickly when she seemed to wake
I’ve cooked her a surprise dinner, after secretly going to one of those cooking lessons that are made for hasty but well meaning guys like me
I’ve lied down next to her, on the side of a hill as we looked up together at the starry night sky
I’ve written songs for her, that I perform as she looks on in a small bar with dim lights and cheap drinks
I’ve covered her with my jacket, on the eve of a wintry, windy day as we walked through the park
I’ve bought her flowers and chocolate on a perfectly droll day, for no reason other than to make her smile
I’ve hid her presents in a secret place, as I pretended to forget her birthday till the last moment
I’ve written her beautiful poems, which even all together could not hope to capture everything that she means to me
I’ve spent restless nights thinking about how I would propose to her in ways that she might never forget

I have done all these things not unconditionally, but because she loves me back too.

I am in love. I just haven’t found out who with yet.

Debunking the myth of Love

Love is an interestingly complex thing. The discussions about it that I’ve had with others, and the experiences I’ve had of my own have led me to believe that you can’t really contain it to one particular definition or one view.

So, here’s debunking a few myths about love.

Note :- This is very much a work in progress. If anyone has suggestions or criticisms, please feel free to comment. I will assess them from my own perspective and edit accordingly.

One : People can fall in love more than once.
Which also debunks, Two : Despite what you might believe after watching Serendipity, there is no one perfect person for you. There may, JUST may, be a person who fits what you look for perfectly, it doesn’t mean squat unless it actually works out that that person likes you back.
Three : There is NO definite path to love, even if you try to narrow it down to just one person. You can fall in love in so many ways and it differs for every person, every time.
Four : Being in love is NOT an emotion. Love is the emotion. Being in love is a state of being where the person chooses to give himself or herself into that emotion. And if two people choose to share that emotion, then it becomes a true romance. Otherwise, its just a relationship. 

Mine Moody Memoirs

Write. Whenever i seem to be stuck on something in life, i have a variety of ways to achieve escapism. One of them is to basically go crazy on my guitar or sing loudly locked up in some (hopefully soundproof) room. Another way is to write. Usually airing semi-dirty laundry on FB. And sometimes, for the more personal issues, on my blog. Which i've been doing a lot of late.

Now, there is a saying 'Emotion is the fuel of creativity'. Well, i think there is. If there isn't, there is now :P
And we humans are pretty emotional creatures. And some of us, like me, are pretty dramatic in a lot of ways. Now, i'm not saying that i'm a traditional dramaqueen. More like a moody, inquisitive, self-aware one (But lets not get into that. Let that be a reference for a future blog post topic. Pin on it. Boop.)
And when i get emotionally moody, and not too much that i can't properly harness it, i do get pretty prolific when it comes to my artistic senses. Now, for the 0.99% of you that might actually be following my blog, you would have noticed that quite a lot of the recent posts have been very...sappy of late. And if you have read those posts, then you'll also pretty much be able to figure out the basic reason for said sappiness.

Its such an interesting thing, what feelings can do to someone. In the creative sense. Words that i have always known, and maybe even used from time to time, combine in shapes and forms i never thought myself capable of thinking up. Instinct over intelligence. And the AMOUNT. The prolificacy with which i have been writing stuff in the recent days has astounded me. In addition to those posts that i have actually, you know, posted, i have drafted several others on similar related topics, which i have chosen, for now, not to post.

And as is evidenced by my current writing, the urge to write has not exactly stopped.
Well, atleast this is a fresh topic.

And it has proved to be a very good coping mechanism. Well, that and you know, actually confronting the subject of those moody emotions. Now, i feel much better about things in general AND those in specific.

I basically told myself (And with some nudging from my best friends), to basically let loose and write whatever came out of my head. Poems, articles, junk, music, lyrics. And its been so affirming.
I WILL probably look back someday and go all 'Yech' and 'Ugh, Cooties' when i read them again, but the fact is, for the time being, for right now, it has helped a huge deal getting them off my chest and onto my blog. And that's the whole point.

I will probably never be able to feel the same way, the same amount that i feel right now ever again. I will DEFINITELY still be my own dramatic self, but with every unique experience, a unique lesson is learnt. And a unique fuel is burned.

So, in conclusion, if you ever feel moody, sappy, emotional, good, bad, positive, negative, happy, ecstatic....LET IT OUT!!!!! You'll never be able to capture the moment again just like it is now.

Note :- You might want to follow my example of drafting it before publishing it first. Everything is good to be put out, but it would probably be best for all concerned if you didn't necessarily publicly post it without prudence :3