Little men do not dream.
PROLOGUE
It’s hard to associate myself with the person I was less than a decade ago, when in a nondescript college in the heartland of West Bengal I decided that I had lost all identity. At the point, dreams were the farthest for my existence – existence itself was the goal.
Yes. Little men. Not poor men mind you. But those men who not in height
but in identity, have become too little for their dreams.
There are few things that have survived the boy I was during
my school days to the broken adult I was becoming in college and the recovering
addict I am currently. Alcohol and smoking are substantial barriers in life
(and maybe joys to some) – but my addiction was to failure and I battle it
every day.
It’s interesting for me to start this multi post travel
musing on this note, but for me it has never been the distance that has kept me
from travelling, it was more the purpose and the credibility of such an enterprise.
For travelling to Old Trafford to watch a Manchester United
match was not the sudden urging of a forgotten June of few months remembrance –
but over a decade fostered and ultimately hindered by those cruel words
whispered in my mind.
Do I deserve to go?
The journey from college life to where I am now is of
interest to me and may be an important note when I close my life if an eulogy
beckons. I think I can close this note and move onto a new chapter post these
writings.
But a beginning comes only from an ending. As
The Doctor once said, we are all stories in the end. Just make it a good one.
And with that I will begin.
A DREAM
I catalogued my love of Manchester United in another post
and will not dwell on the birth of that here. Suffice to say, it’s been an
eventful journey as I saw the dominance in English football shift from the duality
of Ferguson-Wenger to a young Portuguese upstart called Jose Mourinho and the
establishment of ‘rich club’ mentality.
It will always be of great sadness that I couldn’t make the
trip during Sir Alex’s reign but maybe sitting in the stand named after him and
hoping that he is smiling watching a famous United victory alongside me
somewhere in the stadium will one day be fulfilled.
The journey to UK,
and infact my first international trip, was born out of this love. It had been
a plan to travel to Old Trafford in my second year of work life, but I didn’t
expect to carry it out this firmly and this fast. It’s been only a few years
that I seriously started contemplating this journey and having realized it, it
will be cherished for years to come, and the many more trips I hopefully take.
And thus, there I was. No longer the hapless college teen,
but a working adult deciding on strategic leave management for the big first international trip.
There were months of frustration as our group put one plan after another in the
trash whether it was financial viability or the dreaded barrier of 'manager won’t give
leaves'. So at the end of it, I was left with only one choice.
Go at it solo.
It was mid June when I started the plan with a Manchester
United membership and match ticket, closely followed by the flight ticket
booking. Thankfully some discounts on Make My Trip ensured it was reasonable and
I was set.
10th to 15th of August I would be in
UK. One week to break the duck of my international spree, and the bucket list.
Second part here
Second part here
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