So England are out of the world cup. At the quarter-finals. On penalties.
Fucking typical.
I watched the game in Club Vasco in Panjim, surrounded by Portugal supporters. Here I downed increasingly desperate bottles of Kingfisher whilst being swatted on the head by a rabid Goan lady with a large Portuguese flag, which she waved non-stop whilst shouting “Super, yes, yes, super! Go, go, go, go, go, go! Super! Yes!” and generally doing a passable impersonation of Meg Ryan in that scene from When Harry Met Sally.
I suppose we should take it as a measure of the beneficience and general loveliness of Portuguese imperial rule (apart from that nasty episode with the Inquisition) that so many Goans continue to support Portugal with so much fervour. As my friend Vivek said, surveying the purple-adorned crowd sceptically, "Vasco de Gama would have been proud."
Anyway, I'm not bitter. Honest.
On Sunday, Shirin and I decided to forget about the World Cup and visit a few of the Hindu temples around Ponda. The first we visited was the Mangeshi Temple, where we met a very nice priest called Mahesh, who gave us a quick tour of the temple and pleasantly inquired after our occupations and various doings.
At one point, Maheshji and I found overselves left alone for a moment. He darted a quick look over his shoulder, presumably to check there weren’t any other priests around, and asked me: “So, who do you think is going to win the world cup now? I think it will be Germany.”
I agreed that Germany looked good enough to go all the way.
He nodded. “And who do you think is better, Maradonna or Pele?”
I considered the matter briefly. I said I thought that perhaps Pele was better.
Maheshji looked sceptical. “Yes, but that goal Maradonna scored against England was fantastic. He took on seven or eight English players before he scored. Pele never did anything like that. He was just a striker, really.”
I was forced to agree that Maradonna had a rare talent but then again in the very same match he had done that whole “Hand of God” thing.
“Yes,” agreed Maheshji, smiling beatifically. “But that was just silly.”
There the matter seemed to rest.
“So,” he said. “Germany, no?”
I confirmed that Germany would be my guess as well.
“I will pray for you,” said Maheshji, and then suddenly declared in a loud voice: “You will excel in your journalism!”
“Oh really?” I said, happy.
“Oh yes!” he said, taking one step back dramatically and pointing at me with an outstretched arm. “You will win an award!”
“Oh, that’s nice,” I said. “When will that be?”
“Before the end of 2007! I guarantee it!”
I thanked him. And, without stopping to say goodbye, Maheshji dashed back into the sanctum sanctorum. What a nice man.
Fucking typical.
I watched the game in Club Vasco in Panjim, surrounded by Portugal supporters. Here I downed increasingly desperate bottles of Kingfisher whilst being swatted on the head by a rabid Goan lady with a large Portuguese flag, which she waved non-stop whilst shouting “Super, yes, yes, super! Go, go, go, go, go, go! Super! Yes!” and generally doing a passable impersonation of Meg Ryan in that scene from When Harry Met Sally.
I suppose we should take it as a measure of the beneficience and general loveliness of Portuguese imperial rule (apart from that nasty episode with the Inquisition) that so many Goans continue to support Portugal with so much fervour. As my friend Vivek said, surveying the purple-adorned crowd sceptically, "Vasco de Gama would have been proud."
Anyway, I'm not bitter. Honest.
On Sunday, Shirin and I decided to forget about the World Cup and visit a few of the Hindu temples around Ponda. The first we visited was the Mangeshi Temple, where we met a very nice priest called Mahesh, who gave us a quick tour of the temple and pleasantly inquired after our occupations and various doings.
At one point, Maheshji and I found overselves left alone for a moment. He darted a quick look over his shoulder, presumably to check there weren’t any other priests around, and asked me: “So, who do you think is going to win the world cup now? I think it will be Germany.”
I agreed that Germany looked good enough to go all the way.
He nodded. “And who do you think is better, Maradonna or Pele?”
I considered the matter briefly. I said I thought that perhaps Pele was better.
Maheshji looked sceptical. “Yes, but that goal Maradonna scored against England was fantastic. He took on seven or eight English players before he scored. Pele never did anything like that. He was just a striker, really.”
I was forced to agree that Maradonna had a rare talent but then again in the very same match he had done that whole “Hand of God” thing.
“Yes,” agreed Maheshji, smiling beatifically. “But that was just silly.”
There the matter seemed to rest.
“So,” he said. “Germany, no?”
I confirmed that Germany would be my guess as well.
“I will pray for you,” said Maheshji, and then suddenly declared in a loud voice: “You will excel in your journalism!”
“Oh really?” I said, happy.
“Oh yes!” he said, taking one step back dramatically and pointing at me with an outstretched arm. “You will win an award!”
“Oh, that’s nice,” I said. “When will that be?”
“Before the end of 2007! I guarantee it!”
I thanked him. And, without stopping to say goodbye, Maheshji dashed back into the sanctum sanctorum. What a nice man.
Comments
which magazine do you work for?
any of them in delhi?
never seen an article of yours, but your posts are a good read!
I mostly work for Time Out Mumbai magazine, in which I write a column called Ballocks and sometimes stuff on Film and other topics. I think it's available in Delhi - see if you can find it, or check the website at www.timeoutmumbai.net.
Thanks for coming back!