The Beautiful Affair

It was after a long, hard fought battle that went on for more than an hour. She begged, pleaded for bystanders to intervene, but to no avail. All this long, she had been saying the good things, saying yes, but it hardly had any effect. He had had enough. He said no and from then on, it was as if nothing ever existed between the two of them. While there come multiple occasions where it seems as if things have gone wrong to the point of no return, life does give you fair share of chances. But there is a limit to everything.

The circumstances were unfortunate; things had been downhill for a long time now. But he had decided to give the relationship one more year. Something which had 15 year old foundations could be given a year’s time for sorting things out. But it was familiar territory all over again- right noises made, no visible difference. And that’s why it succumbed finally.

That’s the story we had. 16 years back, a piece of news of her defeat is what had sparked the interest. And it blossomed handsomely over the next few years. Then she moved into a new house, taking care of which, she insisted took the most of her time. He was considerably understanding at first, giving her all the time she needed. When people made fun, he covered for her. But with time, even after the liabilities had been cleared off, things didn’t get better. Here and there, there used to be a flicker that filled him with hope that things could be mended. A season gift here, a display of passion there, taking his side by absolutely decimating his rivals only added fire to the hope he had.

But of late, even those distant displays of love and passion began to be too far apart. The flair was gone; beauty in her play was gone as well. And when she couldn’t defend herself from being enamoured by his biggest rival, it was all over, at least in his mind.

That’s the story we had – Arsenal and I. And I loved every bit of it. I grew from a raw teenager to a man hoping against hope that things would get better. I had given 16 years of my life, longing for the weekends for Arsenal to turn up and fill up my heart with joy. But with a heavy heart, saddled with the pains of seeing it degenerate to levels beyond my imagination, I’ve begun to drift away of late.

No more keeping awake for midweek matches, no more leaving everything apart to watch matches during the weekend evenings, no more giving up on going out for doing so. That love for the club shall forever remain; I would definitely glance over the results every weekend. But that desire to watch them play is all but gone. I will follow- who is being signed, whom they have already signed, whom they’ll play but with the palpable sense of things not turning out to be good.

As I drift into the midnight with great sorrow, I do so with a hope that in the not so distant future, things will rekindle between the two of us. I do so with a hope that the fear, frustrations of the years gone by would be set free and replaced by the carefree brilliance and flair of the glory years. I slip into the deep slumber wishing to be the kid again who feels like he has seen candy whenever Arsenal set their foot to play.