Lunch With Beckham...

No... I did not win no contests... Neither did I dream up a lunch with the popular soccer player... What follows... is just an extract of one of those pathetic days in my life... where the man... purely by virtue of his existence and wealth... managed to leave me with a foul taste...

Here goes...

12:59 Hrs: just about that time of the day when the whistles in my belly begin their slow hum...

I ask my lunch-mate if it was time... and sure enough... the whistles in her belly were roaring... as usual...

13:12 Hrs: I realize I have the "esteemed" company of one other colleague, A apart from the usual L and M. WOW!!!...

13:20 Hrs The girls have finally managed to decide upon one place for lunch... and I'm thinking to myself, I could have finished lunch and got back by now...

13:30 Hrs: We are here... as are a zillion other executives from all the other unthinkable, unimaginable planets in this Universe... All dressed in formals... carrying on them varying levels of stench... and just one clear aim... LUNCH...

What follows now is an abridged version of the quadralogue (for lack of a better word) that happened... and how it left me wondering... and that foul taste in my mouth...

L: hey... Did you know that team this guy David Beckham played for... Who was it?

M: Real Madrid ???

L: Nooooooo.... not that one... the one he used to play for earlier....

M: Ha... Manchester United! What about it...

L: Ya... It seems they gave 40 million dollars for Beckham....

ME:(clueless about football) Who gave 40 million to whom? Madrid to Manchester... or to Beckham?

L: No stupid... It seems he is very popular in America...

ME:??? What does that have to do with what I just asked you?

M:(He seems to have understood something) Actually... He is very popular in the South East ... in Thailand and all...

L: He is popular in America ony because of Posh...But she's so fat...

ME: A ha... really....

A:(Looking to re-define her purpose in this Universe... In the menu) I wonder if the Dosa's here are good....

ME: ???

M:(Beginning to sound like an encyclopedia… and feeling good about it…) Did u know he earns 120,000 pounds in a week... That... Not including the endorsements...

L: Goddd... Why should some people get so much money in life?

ME:(Beginning to look for some humor) Coz they cant use it after they are dead...

L:(Irritated.. As expected) Shuduuuuuppppp....

A:(Not giving a s**t about how much Beckham earns and what is Posh's waist size)I will take one Mini-Meals...

L:(Looking dreamy...) God... I wish I could get just about 10% of that money...

M:(Not to miss his chance) 1%... will do...

ME:I can't imagine YOU playing football... I mean... NO....

L: How rude!!! Anyway... If I could get so much money... even I would play football...

M:(Can't help spitting his juice out)Beckham!!! Take cover… here comes the L effect…

L:But seriously... I mean... look at how much money he gets... just for kicking a stupid ball around... and we… have to slog our asses and nobody even bothers…

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This is where I lost it... I mean... not literally... I got thinking...

Did someone like Beckham start making money simply by kicking the ball around?

Is this all that people like L can understand from the life of people like him?

Did he not have to work his way up to where he was?

It irked me to see materialism in its most prevalent, blatant, blunt and unappealing form... In the form of a person who could switch to a new life style...
A person who seemed ready to give up on anything/anyone for the money that Beckham earns...

It reminded me of the conversation I had with someone I respect... We had spoken about LEAGUES... about how one person may be in different league compared to another for different aspects in life... aspects like self-control, expectations, clarity of thought, articulation, grammatical accuracy, sexiness, confidence and the like...

I compelled myself to look at the child in L and feel that desperation she had… the unfulfilled desire for the material pleasures that money could buy… something I could never bring myself to feel… or understand…

Looking at L made pity the hundreds of souls I see every day… “Slogging their asses off” to earn that extra buck… to satisfy that extra desire… to live a life defined by slavery to the senses… I pity the people who cannot see themselves as other people… I pity those people who cannot make themselves realize that they are slaves… of their senses… of themselves…

At this table, having my lunch, I found myself in a league so different... a league so distant... a league so lonely…

With a foul taste in my mouth... I found myself... looking beyond...