Charm of the chasm

At the risk of sounding vain, something which yours truly is quite used to, there’s something about the title that just sticks. Or maybe, it’s just the (lack of) work getting to my head. More on that later. For now, let’s switch to a relatively more tangible topic than my travails in ‘the’ city, Game of Thrones.

Now, the timing of this partial GoT post might come off as a bit odd. Okay, way odd. But what choice does one have when competing with freaks/enthusiasts like my dear friend Raghav Sharma, who pop up with at least a pre 9 AM episode based status, which is in all probability followed by a detailed breakdown of the hour’s happenings and the intricacies that aren’t even addressed on Reddit/4chan. 4chan is not for the weak-hearted, with its daily changes to their supposedly exclusive leaked images of the season’s plot. How Mr. Sharma manages to do what he does in Bhilai is beyond my comprehension. So, in between my lovely office and the proud possessor of curls that’d give Sachin a run for his money, I am left with no option but to painstakingly eke out a space for GoT in my rants blogs.

 

 

So, ‘Blood of my Blood’ generally left people disappointed, after all the action of the past two episodes. It did address a few issues, doled out a crash course in Westeros history, but it was pretty average keeping in mind the lofty standards that this season’s set. Encapsulated below are a few takeaways from the episode. What would I do without bullets!

  • Hello, Uncle Benjen. The last time we saw you, Renly, Shireen, Selyse, Stannis, Robert, Tywin, Shae, Lysa, Ned, Catelyn, Robb, Talisa, Joffrey The Noble, Myrcella Puberty-can-do-wonders Baratheon, Meryn Trant, Syrio, Jon, Ser Alliser, Jeor Mormont, Viserys, Drogo, Khal Moro(n), Hodor were still alive. Oh, and so were you.
  • Couldn’t they find a better Aerys Targaryen? ‘Burn them all’ didn’t quite have the expected ring to it.
  • Jaime Lannister finally had his badass moment, first in Bran’s vision and then, leading the Tyrells to the Red Keep, only for his kin to let him down. Then, he had a bad ass moment with Cersei,  before putting on his Lannister colours and storming off to Riverrun with Bronn. The new Jai- Veeru, these two.
  • Hello, Filch. Nice to know that you’re still alive.
  • Your proclivities define who you end up becoming. If his love for Margaery (I almost put a ‘s here. Almost) and Ser Pounce were anything to go upon, he was always meant to be a pussy.
  • Arya’s finally on her way. Yeah, that’s about it, as far as her arc is concerned.
  • Someone please kill Samwell Tarly. And his storyline.
  • Daenerys Stormborn is back. With a new motivational speech. And interesting as ever dialogues.

Daario: You’re a conqueror.                                                                                                                                           Daenerys: I take what is mine.

I rest my case.

aerys
Aerys of the House Disappointment.

Onto real world conquerors. Real Madrid won their 11th Champions’ League title, with Ronaldo (fittingly) scoring the winning penalty. Yes, it had to be him. Why not ? Agreed that he didn’t have the finest 120 minutes of his career on the field, which was probably why I dozed off for a majority of the match and yet woke up just to see the two goals being scored, but hasn’t the guy done enough already to deserve the winning goal, and the accolades that come with it. 8 years ago, he scored a goal with a stunning header and then missed his penalty in the shootout, only to be rescued by John Terry and Nicolas Anelka. This time, he didn’t.

I almost feel sad for Virat Kohli and Serena Williams. Almost. Losing is tough. Losing in finals, a bit more. Losing lots of finals to random people and teams, even more. I don’t really care about the IPL anymore. However, French Open 2016 has offered me a glimpse into what life without Federer’s going to be like. And the signs aren’t encouraging.  But then, neither is my life. Or maybe it is. Let the poem suffice.

A POETIC  RANT                                    

Federer’s gone,

So is Nadal.

A joke is number one,

And Murray shall once more fall.

 

Oh, how I wish chasm meant darkness,

And the nothingness that it entails.

Only if I knew more and thought less,

Wouldn’t be capping off a week of epic fails.

 

It’s too late for the title,

But is it too late for me?

Will I end up working for Revital?

With my default rhyme scheme still abab.

 

Office live chugs on,

Six days a week.

With us at the mercy of ‘the don’,

The only exercise being taking a leak.

 

People come and people go,

Will this go on forever?

Communications at an all time low,

For my Mike, I always get a Trevor.

 

Such is my plight,

That Housefull 3 is a possibility.

No sign of a fight,

The onset of senility.

 

Mumbai is missed, so is Pilani.

The former’s people, not so much.

Mohit Shah and Rikkin Majani,

How many waterdrops does Goel’s face touch?

 

At least I’m reading again,

And might end up learning R.

Even if deciphering PDFs is a pain,

But, that which we are, we are.

 

I’m starting to let go,

Of people, of grudges held.

A lesson learnt too slow,

Or just an ego to be fed?

 

This’s almost become a diary entry,

But then who cares.

With breakfast complimentary,

And reducing cab fares.

 

Forgive the randomness,

And the poor references that abound.

So many topics to address,

And so many faults to be found.

 

I’ll take my leave now,

Lest I try too hard to poetically fly.

A hundred golden dragons to anyone in tow,

Who wishes for Daenerys to die.

                                                                      

 

 

 

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