Monday, August 20, 2012

blue is the color. and the mood?

First ChelseaFC match of the season. Sunday. 6pm in India. At around 5.30 my aunt feels the need to go to the mall one last time before she returns to her small town.
We run to the mall, pick up a t-shirt and run back. Some sort of record timing, even with a break to grab some street food. I can still make second half.
The moment I sit on the sofa my mom comes in with a demand that I go buy dinner.
"I want forty-five minutes. Leave me alone."
For whatever reason my mom and my aunt plonk down beside me.
Sometimes their chatter breaks through my invisible barrier of sound.
"This guy is wearing a monkey cap!"
"Oh, yeah! Why?"
"Just like a Bengali"
"Why? Is he cold?"
"It's not a monkey cap. He had a concussion once."
"Ohh. If he had a heart attack why does he wear a monkey cap?"
"He had a concussion."
"These English medics are so great. That black guy who had a heart attack on the field, he was clinically dead for a few minutes."
For a minute I'm wondering how she confused Cech with a black man. Then the commentary is back on.
"He should wear a helmet. Why aren't his ears covered? Did you know he could die if his ears are hit hard enough?"
"I think he'd die of the heat if he covered his ears. He is playing football."
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.
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"Where is the Chelsea goalkeeper? How come we haven't seen him yet?"

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