The CHOLAs Chorus – free & random thoughts!!!

Thirty-two nations are fighting over one ball vying for the FIFA World Cup Trophy in South Africa. The vuvuzelas are reportedly deafening. But have they drowned the criticism of the Jubulani? If the Jubulani could speak, it’d lambast FIFA and all the 32 nations kicking it mercilessly. We saw Italy win the World Cup in Germany. That was four years ago. I had more hair and less wrinkles. I do not know if I’ll watch the FIFA World Cup in Brazil in 2014. Sure I’ll be older than I’m now. The bottom line is that we all grow, and grow older. I know we all know this – I make no issue of it. My point is that let’s not disillusion ourselves that growth stops at puberty!

I sit glued to the idiot box like a couch potato and watch the finals. I rejoice to see the Jubulani being dribbled and kicked all around. After several passes to and fro, a striker shoots. The ball hits the woodwork. I’ve no stake, yet I slap my forehead involuntarily. My glasses escape by a whisker. I forgot that my hairline had receded towards the crown some years ago, leaving behind an expanse of bald patch that would make a sound just like any spanking would. I’m thinking of so many things that keep us alive and dribbling and kicking.

Coaches, players and spectators alike do not always agree with the referee.  Ageing is an inescapable fact, so  we are all agreeable. We would all love to grow younger if it were possible. But then again, it mayn’t be debatable that our children love to grow older and faster so that they come of age, attain the age of consent, and get into the ecstasies about carefree adolescence. If getting old is important, it’s also inevitable for all. And this is the inevitability that many do not concede – even if ageing is noticeable much more by intellectual appreciation than biological depreciation. It’s even more important for those unmarried folks of marriageable age. The biological clock is ticking away. We’ve only one lifetime. The ball is in our possession. The referee may blow his whistle any time. And remember there is no injury time.

It’s half-time. I refresh my tired eyes, look back and recall what my father had said one score year ago: “Do not rush into monastic life, do not delay social livelihood.” Notwithstanding the tediousness and the repetitiveness of social livelihood, it’s undeniable that it does not bore us, the laity. It’s monotonous, but we do not renounce it to join the clergy. Today we do not rush into monastic life, but many delay or deny social livelihood. There are many reasons – both valid and invalid.

As a rule of thumb, generally wealth, education, social class, personality and appearance determine both momentary romance and lifelong marital relationship. Arguably they are not always true and representative of all. Social livelihood is delayed for one or combination of these factors. More or less commonly young women today put career over and above marriage. No matter how long it takes, career comes before marriage for today’s young women – allegedly unaware that bloom is veritably seasonal. What a pity spring follows winter only once in a lifetime, and we need no weather forecast for our own frost and hailstorm! Worse still, we cannot turn the biological clock back.  Like a consolation, many age-defying products and technologies are on the market today. In passing, women’s age is a jealously guarded secret!

I do not contend it’s the norm. But I imagine at least three scenarios that will haunt every person of marriageable age who wants to tie the knot. At the core of each of these scenarios is the desire to build and sustain a successful and happy marriage. But believe it or not, happy marriage mayn’t always be the prime objective as not all successful marriages are happy. A happy marriage, in other words, is not always a successful marriage. A marriage is successful because it’s not happy. If this is true, the situation the other way round is equally true. Let’s not lose sight of the fact that marriage is not always the consummation of lust and the desire to produce offspring. There are all sorts of marriages – of convenience, into the nobility, and shotgun – arranged by parents or destiny lovebirds. This is life. Nobody craves death even if rebirth in heaven is assured and earth is no heaven.

So, while living she wants somebody better than herself in all aspects. He wants the same. It’s a rise to power, popularity, wealth, and, of course, pride. It’s more of greed than need although need cannot be ruled out altogether. One is desirous of someone better than oneself because the latter is deemed a comfort access provider or at least one access road to that envious comfort access provider. To aspire to that comfort access provider and be on the access road to it is one thing, to be on the access road with a valid driving license and deservedly so is quite another. And the drive isn’t always smooth. Milestones on the road may read only short distance from the destination, but even after a bumpy, winding and tiring drive, the destination may remain elusive. The playing field is only 165 x 68 m. The ball came dizzily from one goalpost. If it weren’t for the impenetrable defenders, the ball would have found a short rest in the back of the net at the other goalpost. It returns to strive to come back all over again. They are unaware of the flip side of anything or anyone that is better.

She is different; he is like her. They want someone less than what and who they are. They think this will ensure lifelong relationship, unbroken both in form and spirit. If your spouse is not attractive (of course yes to yourself, but not to others), your spouse is highly likely or guaranteed to be yours throughout. You don’t worry that your spouse will cheat on you. Unless your spouse moves towards the post on purpose, hardly any noose will loop around the neck. Your spouse is just another human being. So you sleep peacefully with or without day in day out.

A team can have a draw with another and yet win. In a relationship, it’s compatibility. She wants someone compatible with her in every sense. His aim is no different. Both want their equals – intellectual equal and equal in terms of wealth, class, personality and appearance. If available and found, both win. But it’s seldom. “Water, water, everywhere, not a drop to drink.”

Phew! Phew! Phew! blows the whistle amidst the vuvuzelas. It’s a goalless draw. Neither side wins. Did the coach make the right choice for his squad? Or did the players do justice to the jersey they wore? In terms of the actual play, relationship is less anxious but more important than a World Cup final. But in terms of who chooses the squad and how the squad play, both may be comparable.

So Mr. Right and Ms. Perfect, who is right? No one will blow the whistle until it’s too late. Until it does I deny like an adhesive goalie.