13 reasons why you won’t care about Manchester City Delhi becoming official

My tryst with the game of football goes back a long way. From the third to sixth year of existence on earth, my elder brother used my head as a ball on numerous occasions, and let’s just say my IQ highlights the fact that he was a good defensive midfielder in his school days. The first football tournament that I watched was International World Cup 2002, and during 2002-2010, I resurfaced every 2 years during Euros and World Cup to discuss the then-famous players, to buy a football to play for one evening and then let it be eaten by rats, and to deduce that England weren’t winning because they were, well, England.

I used to think club football has no real meaning, since it has no sense of patriotism in it. Then I was introduced to Manchester City in 2011, and they played in an entertaining way I had never seen before. Needless to say, I was the newest member of the clan of 1230AM kickoff addicts and people who enjoy jokes on Manchester United. In very less time, I found a lot of other Manchester City fans in and around Delhi, which is why I think I would rock if I ever joined Tinder. We took the initiative of contacting the club, and now have been officially recognised by the club. Here are a few reasons why you would NOT care about it:

1. The benefits of being official are easier tickets to games, which I concede I may never be able to go to because #MiddleClass, and discounts on merchandise, which I may never buy because I do my shopping at Colaba Causeway and Palika Bazaar and my merchandise compared to the real stuff, is same as what masturbation is in comparison to sex.

2. You think I don’t even know where Manchester is. Well I can pin point it on a map for you, but I won’t because I am not anti-national and I will not touch any map other than India’s.

3. You think it is useless because Indian football has no future. BC ek baar Tu FIFA 16 me aa ke dikha mere saamne.

4. You are determined that you will start watching club football only if Chennai Super Kings start playing football.

5. You think I shouldn’t waste my time on football at all and concentrate on my studies, to which my direct reply to you is “Mom! Please move aside, I can’t see the TV screen.”

6. You think Manchester City is a small club with Arab money. Yes. I support a rich, humble club, which plays beautiful football and has a sense of humour. I don’t think that it is that bad a thing.

7. You think that Manchester city has no history. Well, that is usually a long debate in which you throw Wikipedia screenshots in my face and I start to doubt if your parents were siblings. Maybe City has no history. I’ll be happy if I’m there while they make it.

8. You don’t care about English football because you’re entire knowledge of football is limited to either Lionel Messi or Cristiano Ronaldo.

9. You don’t care about English football because you’re a woman and I think casual sexism is sometimes funny.

10. You don’t care about English football because you are an Indian and care only about cricket to which I must say, “Oye Gautam Gambhir, grow up na yaar!”

11. You are a Manchester United fan and you’re jealous because you’re a Manchester United fan and that’s your superpower.

12. You think that I’m alone in this supporters group and have no one else with me. Well, that may be true for my life in general, but let me assure we are growing well as a supporters club.

13. You think this post was unnecessary and now you hate me and the idea of sports in general.

Pick your own reason. Clichéd City jokes and heated arguments are welcome.

Oh, and also, #WengerOut.

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#LetsUpvaas because everything is banned

After the heart-breaking ban on Maggi, and the logic-defying ban on beef, a master at exaggeration and relatively unemployed BJP legislator Ramesh Arora, (in his attempt to seem important) has now asked for a ban on the national dish of Shahdara: Momos. He has based his idea on the fact that Momos contain monosodium glutamate, aka ajinomoto, which is an addictive, carcinogenic chemical. Now, to prevent ajinomoto from causing cancer in humans, there were multiple options:

1. Ban production and usage of ajinomoto.

2. Ban production of things that contain ajinomoto, like Momos.

3. Ban production of people who make Momos, which is essentially getting every Nepalese immigrant vasectomised.

Of course, BJP took the second option because Sanjay Gandhi once took the third option and apparently we live in a cruel heartless society where you can’t even cut someone’s vas deferens for some innocent fun. BJP didn’t take the first option because ABEY O ANTI-NATIONAL SAALE BJP KI POLICY PE SAWAAL KARTA HAI?

Of course, we can live without momos and other Chinese cuisine dishes (or as they call it in Dilshad Garden, chaineej aytems) which contain ajinomoto, but look at what our other options are:

1. We could eat Maggi but then it was banned for excessive lead, and it caused a situation of utter chaos, where students had to eat the tortured-tape-worm-shaped Top Ramen noodles during exams and Tom Uncle’s Maggi Point in DU got demoted to Tom Uncle’s Point, which was pointless.

2. We could eat chicken but then bird flu happened. We could eat pork but then swine flu happened. We could eat mutton par ye June wali Eid to meethi Eid hai. We could eat fish but then Bombil is the only affordable fish and it smells like Arvind Kejriwal’s feelings towards Narendra Modi. We could eat beef but it is too early to have the last meal of our lives for many of us. 

3. We could eat Dal but go ask your parents how expensive it is, and eventually the conversation will reach at how you’ll end up selling their​ house because you spend like an idiot.

4. We could eat soya dishes, which are the Palika-Bazaar copies of butter chicken, and no self-respecting Punjabi will ever sink that low. 

5. We could eat khichdi or idli but then there would be no difference between my diarrhea and non-diarrhea days.

I have to agree that if a certain food item has a carcinogenic ingredient without which it cannot be prepared, it needs to be banned and put off the menu, just like BJP has banned other carcinogenic things such as cigarettes, bidis and the logic of its bhakts and the acts of cow vigilantes. Oh. Wait.

There are a lot of other killer things that deserve the society’s attention. Falling in love and getting friendzoned kills more people on the inside than any amount of ajinomoto ever can. Pressure of entrance exams is more lethal to our social life than a plate of steamed chicken momos for two years. The ‘ssssh ssssh’ hissing sound that people make while having the red chilli dip with momos is more poisonous to the environment than the entire stack of momos on that stove. Clearly, we are concentrating on the wrong problem here.

Having said all that, I think I’ll be able to live in a country without momos. It’s not the issue that is of paramount importance to me or the nation. However, if they ever try to even think of putting a ban on Gol-Gappe, yaad rakhna… Talwaarein chal jayengi. 

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Is it mandatory to rock and roll in Dharamsala?

Given that Delhi weather becomes similar to inside of an earthen tandoor in the month of June, for the second consecutive year I did what every middle class Delhiite does: go to a hill station in Himachal Pradesh decided after a meticulous procedure of research with special emphasis on affordability and number of leaves sanctioned from the office. Last year, I went to Shimla, and this year, I went to Dharamsala to enjoy a sudden drop of temperature from a burning 38 degree Celsius in Delhi to an icy-cold 33 degrees in Dharamsala.

Dharamsala is a green, hilly place in Himachal Pradesh famous for the fact that his holiness the Dalai Lama used to live there for some time during his exile, and that now there are a lot of restaurants serving good Tibetan food with names like Thenthuk and Gyathuk which formed the basis of a marathon of lame jokes on the same. I went with three other male friends, and we decided for Dharamsala because we found an affordable hotel with a great view from our balcony to enjoy while having a drink (or may be two, or any random number onwards of ten) in the evening when it’s totally dark outside and we realise that view ke naam pe toh kat Gaya BC.

We survived a 12-hour back-breaking sleepless bus journey in a Himachal Roadways bus (with seats which oscillated back-and-forth making squeaky noises for minutes together every time the bus ran over a speed-breaker) to reach our hotel. The first place on the list was Bhagsu falls, which was more of a running water tap than a waterfall, though the pool at the end of it had balls-numbingly cold water, although we didn’t decide to verify that particular adjective as me and my friends still have hopes of getting married and having kids, so we went only knees-deep into that. There was also a free common over-crowded swimming pool in the Bhagsu temple premises, and we had a gala time playing in the water, only to come out at regular intervals to wipe off the pubes and insects from our oral cavities.

The evening was reserved for the real purpose of the trip: getting wasted with moderately-priced whiskey with the feeling of ‘being on a vacation’. Of course the conversations took amazing twists and turns with increasing blood ethanol levels, and I won’t be able to recollect and write most of the things we talked about, let’s just say that it was a 7-hour long session involving cuss words, women, more cuss words, confessions, and random moments of clinking glasses with either “ispe to cheers banta hai!” or “abey ab har baat pe cheers karoge?“.

The final morning of a two-mornings-long trip, we went to Bir-Billing, the highest paragliding destination in Asia. There is a vertical descent of around 1100 metres with a parachute, and obviously excited, we discussed what we would say before the jump so that the selfie camera would record it as we had paid 500 rupees extra for that. I decided on ‘Volar Morghulis‘, although something sounding similar to “Aeeeggghhh Mummmmyyyyyy” came out, because darr ke aage jeet and obvious wetting of pants hai. Nevertheless, it was a breath-taking sight from the top, and I had a perfect walking-on-the-ground landing too.

So, paragliding was obviously the best part of my weekend getaway, but I can’t help but wonder, what did the first person smoke up before having the thought “hmmm, nothing could possibly go wrong if I jump off this hill and descend down a kilometre with a parachute. After all, Volar Morghulis!“.

That, and also, did his selfie camera have audio recording feature?

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