Welcome to my World

David D'Cruz - Footballs' Lion King

2011-06-10T06:18:00.000-07:00

GOAL!!!

That was the victory shout for us football players in the field after a successful score.

Life was fun but never always easy for us juniors during the football games; not with senior, respected players who ran the show while we followed the codes of discipline. I’ve always loved this rush; the intensified trainings and Coach Patrick’s regular scolding too. Sometimes even suspension from a good game if we didn’t take training seriously.

KGA ground on M.A. Jinnah road was likened to ‘the gladiator’s arena of destruction’. This is where seasoned teams played day after day and tournament after tournament. Attempting to play among these teams at age 14 meant you were either crazy or suicidal. The big guns showed no mercy. Everyone was equal here. This wasn’t our small home playground where we often goofed around. No sir, this was serious football for serious players only.

We kids were under mentoring of Coach Patrick with his rock-solid enthusiasm for the game and I was his favorite ‘worst’ player. Every time I goofed up, he would grumble at me under his breath saying, “Stupid…very very stupid!” We would laugh. We knew he wanted to say much more but he was a decent human being. His controlled emotions kept him from kicking my butt instead of the football.

Of the greatest of greats we watched playing every time on that gladiator field, there was one particular forward-positioned juggernaut, David D’Cruz. David was ruthless, vicious and absolutely cruel on the field. He was the man responsible for getting the ‘job done’ whenever a victory was needed.

We could not play with him. Some boys speculated that we juniors were not allowed to play in the field when he was present as we were ‘novices’ and could get trampled on if we came in the juggernauts way.

David was one of the most talented players. His motto was not just ‘No Fear’ but rather to ‘Instill Fear’ into the rest of the players. Compared to World Wrestling on TV, we would get to see the real thing. Broken shin bones, twisted ankles, injured knees, concussions to the forehead, are some of the nasty repercussions players had to bear if they tangled in a ‘snatch-the-ball’ attempt from the lion king. David defended his team with resilience and passion. Most victories were matches of hard battles. David’s team would be like his family for that match-moment as the lion defend his pride.

One evening after arriving late, Coach Patrick was screaming at me. He warned he'd put me in the team playing against David. I was petrified. “Who wants to die so early?” I thought to myself.

That same evening David entangled with another player - a header, a good seven feet up in the air. Both players were injured in a head-to-head collision. His opponent was down all rattled up in pain while David suffered a deep gash on his forehead. There was silence in the arena and the match halted. People gathered to see if both players were okay. I watched the other guy ‘call it quits.’ He had a nasty spell of the kings’ head made from hard-tempered bone and sweat.

David looked on as his opponent walked towards the change room and then he shouted, “Guys, sit down. We got a game to finish.” He did not want first aid just yet. “It’s not necessary right now..” he said with a wicked smile and walked off into the field. This match continued while his head still dripping blood now soaked one side of his white T-shirt. GOAL!! Another victory-shout; the lion had scored again.

David was expressionless during and after every match. He rarely smiled even when being presented with trophies. “When’s the next game?” was all he probably thought about. We kids were once again reminded of the fearful lion king and warned even more to stay away from him when in the field.

I was temporarily suspended from playing any matches due to disciplinary action and was kept as an ‘extra’. My team unfortunately had it even worse. They were facing David’s team. I felt saved but not for long. Suddenly, Coach Patrick pulled me up and said “Get in, you’re playing fullback now” For a minute, I was not too sure what was happening. I was happy with my lifted suspension and asked coach who’s playing on that position. His finger went towards the last person it needed it to go – David!

I was devastated. Coach Patrick’s smirks made me realize this was not time-off for good behavior. It was punishment for extreme cases like me. This time nudging me into the field he said, “Get there and mark your man.” This was football lingo.

I was thinking to myself how I would be going down that evening. “Would I suffer head injuries or knee injuries or both?” As I approached my field position with knocking knees, David shot his same expressionless cold look at me saying, “Get in my way and see. . . . “

David always took the game with great seriousness. His team mates were his family. As any lion would, his territory and playing positions were off-limits for intruders. Fifteen minutes into the match, it was very clear that David was making no exceptions for me. I was pushed, shoved, his hands in my face, his sweaty shoulder edging painfully and dangerously into me. I tugged on with spirits ‘not so high’ and Coach Patrick shouting from boundary line “Stay with him, don’t leave him!”

Second-half into the match and our opponents were ahead by just one goal. “I’ve got to keep David contained from scoring.” I thought to myself. If I could level the score it would be a draw. I was in David’s territory now sticking with him, defending the ongoing volley of almost accurately executed goals. Every ‘save’ by our goal keeper infuriated David even more and, a junior in his way wasn’t helping the lions temper either.

Reeking with sweat he made me more uncomfortable as he kept gripping and shoving me around. I too was a mess of mud. KGA does not have soft grassy greens. I had elbow bruises from a couple of falls but somehow with every fall I had the courage to pick myself up and put pressure on the lion king. David now attempting another maneuver had the ball with him and he reached striking position. Soon that ball would transform into a speeding mini-tornado ripping into the net. “No” I thought. “This is not going to happen.”

Catching up, we wrestled and pushed; He nudged me and I nudged back. He almost tore my t-shirt as his hands menacingly tried to keep me at bay. I made every attempt to slow him down with all I had. My team was exhausted. Defense was difficult since David had quite an open field of options available and the goal keeper probably realized that too. He dodged but I blocked his entry just as fast. Having developed the stubbornness on my part, for a brief close-contact episode I too edged my entire body into the lion’s ribs. Our feet tangled around the ball. An elbow blurred my vision nearly breaking my nose and the whistle blew hard and deafeningly loud. “Good going!” I thought as I imagined the referee’s yellow or red card for David. For those who are not familiar with the game, a red card is received when a player becomes violent or overly aggressive. Or, if he uses his hands or commits a foul to deliberately prevent a goal. A red card is also given to a player who has received two yellow cards. Players receive yellow cards for overly aggressive fouls.

So you could imagine my absolute shock and bewilderment when the referee walked up to me face-to-face and stuck that Red card right in front almost into me. Only then I realized David was on the ground. His one shoe came off with the fall as well. The frenzy at the time didn’t make me realize what was happening until after the red card was issued. I was doing exactly what David did in all his wining matches. ‘Protect the team, they are like your family.’ I understood what this meant to David as I tried to help him up profusely apologizing to him half in concern and half out of fear.

David laughed it off as if I was over-reacting. He picked himself up without help and with a pat on my shoulder said, “Relax man. It’s all good. Don’t worry, I’m fine.”

Of course, the team got the ‘free kick’ advantage to my dismay. And then, GOAL! I saw that coming. Now, they were two goals ahead and seven minutes to game-end. “No point in pushing now.” I thought to myself. Every one of us would be only too happy to end the continuing onslaught. We continued to tango around with a lot less viciousness and more tactful maneuvering to keep the game stable until the final closing whistle. Game over – we lost!

Making my way back to where the team and coach were standing, I ran cursory checks on me to ensure I was all in one piece while examining my cuts and bruises. Coach Patrick tapped me on the head with a different face-expression. “Well played?”

“Was he asking me or telling me?” I thought to myself.

I think what he meant to tell me was “How the hell did you get a red card against David?”

My buddies were laughing as I came back. Obviously, they found it quite funny from their perspective. They laughed and mimicked episodes of the match events between David and myself. David sitting nearby, slowly drinking water was observing the comments for a while before making his way towards us. Putting his arm around my shoulder as if we were old buddies, he spoke to the rest of the boys in our group.

“What’s so funny?” He said with all seriousness. “I like to see one of you face me and push me around in the game like he did” Then patting me on the back really hard he said “Well played man, well played. See you again next week.” For the first time I saw David smile.

I walked ten feet tall that day. I had the kings’ pat of approval while playing with the big leagues. The game of football was now more passionate and meaningful. I was continually learning the traits of the lion’s pride: team work, coordination and above all, determination to get the job done.

The years went by and life got busy. Football was not our primary focus anymore. David found a new family to take care of. He soon became father to two wonderful sons Hudson and Darius and a loving husband to Diana his wife.

We never met or kept in touch. Life got busy but we friends would often speak fondly of him as well as the other football greats we once all aspired to be.

Sadly, just recently I found out from an office colleague about a tragic incident in David’s family. A powerful gas explosion blew away a portion of their home owing to a leak. His eldest son Hudson was killed. The poor boy was burning to death as David and his wife attempted to dive into the deadly inferno and save him. David knew the consequences of getting inside raging fumes but did it anyway his wife following closely behind. Unfortunately they were too late in saving Hudson. David and his wife were later rushed into Civil Hospital Burns Unit with serious 3^rd degree burns. They were both said to be in critical position.

“David is a fighter” I thought to myself. “He will survive this I’m sure.”

Hudson was buried on June 9, 2011. Unfortunately shortly after we got more devastating news; The lion king had departed too. It was his last match. Sometimes in battles, we don’t always end up victorious no matter how much fight we put in. But, we don’t really lose either. David’s last fight was a victorious, heroic example to everyone about ‘being there for family’ even if it means jumping in the fire.

He gave his best to save his family, loved them and fought till his end. This was David the lion king of football. I would like to remember him this way.

Today, we could ask ourselves how David’s unfortunate incident impacts our lives.

What have we done for our family, our team? Are we sweating, pushing and shoving hard to score those winning goals? Do injuries and setbacks in the course of life's tough, grueling match bring us down or do we move on and get the job done anyway? How many battle scars are we carrying as a symbol of pride in what we do for the people we love?

Well played David – Hoping we can catch another exciting game in the playing field some bright morning when this life is over.

Hell hath no Jury

2011-06-04T00:09:00.000-07:00

A letter to Pastor Terry Jones of The Dove World Outreach Center, Gainesville - Florida

Email: contact@islamisofthedevil.com

Pastor Jones,

Having read your websites’ articles expressing Islam as evil, as well as observing “Burn Quran” day to commemorate 9/11, I am compelled to write back.

I live among Muslims. Most of my Muslim friends are close to me like family. I find no evil in them. I work with them, eat with them, loved some, fondly remember others ... the list of good memories and good times go on.

No one is disputing the bad apples we often come across in our day to day lives - They are everywhere. I'm sure we will find them even in "the great" US OF A.

But, while declaring what “we think” is evil, let us Christians not forget 200 years of the crusades primarily instigated by several popes and their political, hypocritical agendas. Let us not forget the Declaration of the deadly Witch Hunt instigated by early Christians in which many innocent women were prosecuted and burned alive because they preached the holy word of God.

THIS is where our roots stem from dear preacher! Bow not your head in shame – I'm not done with you yet.

Today’s modern day youth (from Christians, Muslims and other religions communities), have information available at their finger tips – Maybe it’s time you need to upgrade your IT skills and educate yourself on your own dirty history instead of hosting your vindictive little camp fire dedicated to 9/11.

Yes, I admit Global Terrorism today has become a brand name. It’s taken a severe toll on our sense of security. Living in Pakistan, we alone know this first hand – probably more than you can ever comprehend. Today, we have a grave problem of insurgency with the Taliban. The Taliban, in case you are wondering, are hand-made craftsmanship of American CIA. These men were originally Nomad Afghan Mujahedeen of the Pukhtoon Clan who took up arms against the Soviet invasion with funding and training from CIA. Pakistan too was invited to join the bandwagon due to Western external pressure and our political corruption. Majority of these nomads never held a pencil in their lives – What could you expect from people with no connection to outside world? It’s easy to brainwash and manipulate the minds of these simple people, transforming them into lethal warriors on a deadly mission.

But hey, what’s your excuse Pastor Terry Jones?

We are still a third world country dominated by several external influences like the USA, IMF and World Bank and internally, by our corrupt and “graduate’ leaders (pun intended): it's not an uncommon thing. Your people too had a fair share playing Cowboy & Indians!

Slavery and racism were rampant and exist even till today in every part of the world, yours and ours; some more evidently visible than others.

Yet, as I write to you, I need to ask why can't all the political slime and terrorism be compared to the Jewish communities still living and breeding like parasites? How come no one points fingers at them? Is Corporate Jewish America really that powerful to reckon with? Or, are they funding your little sleazy church outfit?

Some consider Adolf Hitler a HERO for attempting to wipe out their cursed race and well, a fool for not quite completing the job. . . and I second that with conviction!

Coincidently, were you aware, it was the Jews who crucified Christ and distorted the message of the Holy Grail?

Islam came into being much later on after the sad decline of the Knights Templars who were gruesomely burned alive under the orders from Pope Clement. (History starting from November 22, 1307)

So, old pal, while you are busy trying to gain some cheap popularity and Catholic bishops are busy molesting young alter boys in Rome do consider looking into your own back yard.

There is no real evil in Muslims – the real evil is YOU as you strive to instill instability, fear, disorder, terrorism, negativity, violence and hatred into humanity. You are more a threat to humanity than any radical extremist ever known.

Burning a Holy Quran will never achieve your mission's purpose and neither will it vanish away Muslims - It just makes you look like an IDIOT.

The only thing burning up in smoke right now is your ego as my vile narrations have ignited a portion of your history that lay buried and forgotten in the sands of time .............. until today.

Jude Allen

(The writer is working on several fronts with global business affiliates, associations and government projects but has no political or religious affiliations whatsoever. The writer is not a journalist and does not represent any media agency.

Projects include: One World One Peace Music Album

UGLY

2010-11-05T00:00:00.000-07:00

Outward appearances- Beauty- Earthly Possessions - Wealth- Power ------ Do these things really matter?

Read on- This will give you something to think about!

(Sent to me by my friend Nats)

UGLY

Everyone in the apartment complex I lived in knew who Ugly was. Ugly was the resident tomcat. Ugly loved three things in this world: fighting, eating garbage, and shall we say, LOVE.

The combination of these things combined with a life spent outside had their effect on Ugly. To start with, he had only one eye, and where the other should have been was a gaping hole. He was also missing his ear on the same side, his left foot has appeared to have been badly broken at one time, and had healed at an unnatural angle, making him look like he was always turning the corner. His tail has long since been lost, leaving only the smallest stub, which he would constantly jerk and twitch. Ugly would have been a dark gray tabby striped-type, except for the sores covering his head, neck, even his shoulders with thick, yellowing scabs. Every time someone saw Ugly there was the same reaction. "That's one UGLY cat!!"

All the children were warned not to touch him, the adults threw rocks at him, hosed him down, squirted him when he tried to come in their homes, or shut his paws in the door when he would not leave. Ugly always had the same reaction. If you turned the hose on him, he would stand there, getting soaked until you gave up and quit. If you threw things at him, he would curl his lanky body around feet in forgiveness. Whenever he spied children, he would come running meowing frantically and bump his head against their hands, begging for their love. If you ever picked him up he would immediately begin suckling on your shirt, earrings, whatever he could find.

One day Ugly shared his love with the neighbors huskies. They did not respond kindly, and Ugly was badly mauled. From my apartment I could hear his screams, and I tried to rush to his aid. By the time I got to where he was laying, it was apparent Ugly's sad life was almost at an end. Ugly lay in a wet circle, his back legs and lower back twisted grossly out of shape, a gaping tear in the white strip of fur that ran down his front. As I picked him up and tried to carry him home I could hear him wheezing and gasping, and could feel him struggling. I must be hurting him terribly I thought. Then I felt a familiar tugging, sucking sensation on my ear- Ugly, in so much pain, suffering and obviously dying was trying to suckle my ear. I pulled him closer to me, and he bumped the palm of my hand with his head, then he turned his one golden eye towards me, and I could hear the distinct sound of purring. Even in the greatest pain, that ugly battled-scarred cat was asking only for a little affection, perhaps some compassion.

At that moment I thought Ugly was the most beautiful, loving creature I had ever seen. Never once did he try to bite or scratch me, or even try to get away from me, or struggle in any way. Ugly just looked up at me completely trusting in me to relieve his pain.

Ugly died in my arms before I could get inside, but I sat and held him for a long time afterwards, thinking about how one scarred, deformed little stray could so alter my opinion about what it means to have true pureness of spirit, to love so totally and truly. Ugly taught me more about giving and compassion than a thousand books, lectures, or talk show specials ever could, and for that I will always be thankful.

He had been scarred on the outside, but I was scarred on the inside, and it was time for me to move on and learn to love truly and deeply. To give my total self to those I cared for.

Many people want to be richer, more successful, well liked, or beautiful, but, for me, I will always try to be Ugly.

You're holding the bat wrong, son!

2009-11-10T05:33:00.000-08:00

You're holding the bat wrong, son!

By Jude Allen

Dedicated to my friend and mentor

(Late) Mr. Issac Lucas

I still remember as little kids…we were playing in the compound when we got this invitation for Alfred Anthony’s (‘Alfie’ as we know him) birthday. Uncle Lucas decided to throw him a party. So there we were…the usual stuff that kids do, we were doing; that is, eating chips and drinking loads of Pepsi…and then came that special moment which Uncle Lucas had probably planned weeks before. He made Alfie to dance on a song; He wanted to show-off his nephew’s talents in front of all the other kids. I still remember the excitement in his eyes as Alfie danced away with those little feet of his whizzing about as fast as they could. I can never forget the smile on that proud uncle’s face.

I came to respect the man for his authoritative stature and serious temperament. He scared me with his naturally raspy voice and big eyes. We always tried not looking into his eyes too much out of fear that he could read just about anything that went on inside our mischievous heads; and we kept a low profile too whenever he was around ‘cause we knew all too well that he was a man with two sides - a bad side, and a worse side.

Then there was that signature trait that no one could mimic – a deafening whistle from one end of the compound to the other that was meant to wake up all his family members and the rest of us folks even in our deepest sleep. Indeed, he was a big guy, strong and always full of energy.

My morning routine would usually be a good one-hour strenuous exercise at 5:30am in the church compound. It was at this time I would spot the big guy on his way to church. Like clockwork, he would be there every morning to help the priest set up altar and prepare it for mass. I would greet him with the usual “good morning uncle!” and he in turn, would occasionally exchange tips on boxing and other sports of our mutual interest. It is no wonder that most of his family members excelled in sports. We adhered to his advice just out of fear; which in turn yielded amazing results. Soon I was part of the school football team………his daughters I recall, made it to represent Pakistan in various athletic meets. All thanks to the big guy who backed and supported us all the way.

He would occasionally seize me by the hand and yank me away from my friends just to give me bits of advice on something or the other. It was during these times I felt as though my life was about to end. It was those eyes again….constantly probing into my head, observing me, the strength in the grasp of his hands would stop the flow of blood in my arms and then, softly like a butterfly settling gently upon a flower he would give me small lessons in manners. I can recall a few of these special lessons:

1. Respect your elders, they know what they are saying.

2. Never mind what they think…I believe in you.

3. Say 'Sorry'.

4. Say 'thank you'.

5. Say ‘I love you’ to your mum more often.

6. It’s okay if your dad was wrong. You can still forgive.

7. Next time I see you with a cigarette, I’ll break your bones and then I’ll tell your mum.(That’s how I never picked up the habit)

8. Do not talk like that and correct others who do; and if you hear Alfie talk like that tell me…I’ll break his bones.

9. Be kind to animals – they too have feelings.

10. You look very weak Son. You need to eat. Eat good food – not that junk you have in your hand.

11. Talk to God – he’ll guide you through.

12. Your holding the bat wrong son.

13. Son, when you are right, don’t be scared.

14. Jude, I don’t hear you singing these days. You must sing.

15. Read books! And when you find something written good, keep it, save it and learn from it.

16. It’s like this because God wants it this way.

He would repeat lesson # 16 over and over again and with spontaneous confidence. Then he would give me that look as if to say, “Don’t worry – you’ll find a way”

The years went by and I was growing. Growing up wasn’t that easy. I was instinctive with a rebellious streak and an attitude to match my ego. The big guy now wasn’t that big as he used to be. His hair had streaks of white and his movements slower than before. But he was still commander-in-chief and twice crossed differences with my growing opinions to the point of verbal outbursts of anger between us. I was no longer afraid of the big guy – or least I think, but I did not dare say it. Deep inside I believe he was still reading my mind the way he always did – and then to confirm my belief, he said it out aloud “Don’t be afraid of me – be afraid of God.”

We settled our differences in the end just the way he taught me to. I said “I’m sorry!” and he said “I love you, son! Forgive me if I was wrong.”

It was then, that I learned something about the big guy. He was bigger than life itself. Stronger than what we all had imagined him to be. For not one day in my life have I ever bowed down to anyone younger than myself to ask for forgiveness as he did. I guess he just lived by what he believed and he wanted to pass the gift onto others.

Now as I recall his last days in the hospital, the big guy suffered in agonizing pain. Occasionally he would stir a bit, open his eyes for brief seconds – during this moment he looked once in my direction - a good ten seconds. I felt the fear once more as the commander-in-chief looked into my eyes. I felt him reading my mind as I was asking God why did it have to be this way. I felt it, as he started intercepting the signals in my brain and then he answered me in his silence “It’s like this because God wants it this way.” - It was the last time we spoke.

To this day, I find it hard to believe that the big strong guy is not around anymore. It feels like he’s still there somewhere watching everything – doing stuff that we cannot really see. Saying stuff that we cannot really hear but we know he’s saying it ‘cause we can feel it within us. It was then I remembered a poem that someone had written. I saved it owing to lesson number 15 of Mr. Issac Lucas. I share this with the family and friends he leaves behind just as he would like me to:

I AM THE GENTLE AUTUMN’S RAIN

Do not stand by my grave and weep;

I am not there.

I do not sleep.

I am a thousand winds that blow.

I am the diamond glints on snow.

I am the sunlight on ripened grain.

I am the gentle Autumn’s rain.

When you awaken in the morning’s hush,

I am the swift uplifting rush

Of quiet birds circled in flight.

I am the soft stars that shine at night.

Do not stand by my grave and cry;

I am not there.

I did not die.

Author Anonymous

Thank you dear friend for the valuable and irreplaceable lessons.
Someday I hope to get down to holding the bat right!

Fireflies in our community

2007-10-25T23:47:00.000-07:00

FIREFLIES

by Jude Allen

I spent an evening focused on fireflies once. Sitting at the edge of a shallow bank about three feet near Kheenjar Lake in interior Sind, near Thatta; It was perhaps early evening, sometime in February 1998, and maybe on a Sunday. My vagueness is due to being a long way from Karachi’s urban civilization for several days, and having lost track of time; which is what I came there to do.

No television, no radio, no newspapers, no fax machines. DHL hasn’t even reached there yet. Not much to do at night but to sit still, smoke cheap “beeri” cigarettes, sip some “Kawa” tea and watch fire flies. Not very exciting; which is great if the last thing you want in the world is excitement.

The tree in front of me was full of fireflies - as though somebody had overdone it and put too many white lights on a Christmas tree; jokes aside. The fireflies were doing synchronized flashing. Altogether. On. Off. On. Off. The locals out there told me they were all males “calling out for love.”

One of these little flashers landed on my pillow when I went to bed. So I put a water glass over him and watched him up close. And wondered;

How much control does a firefly have over his light?

Could one be trained to do Morse code and be worked into a flea-circus act?

Does a firefly ever attract teeny-tiny moths?

Is his light like the stars and always there, only we can’t see it in the daylight?

Does a firefly enjoy getting turned on, or is it more like having hiccups - just an urgent involuntary spasm?

Do fireflies come with different wattage, like light bulbs?

Do firefly bulbs burn out, leaving old fireflies to wander around in the dark, unnoticed and unloved?

What might it be like if we humans were similarly equipped? What kind of pants would we have to wear?

I know some children who give off a lot of light; because they have absorbed a lot of light them selves. They even sing a song called “This is my little light of Joy” and when they sing, they sing it with pride. They shine. This is not the kind of light you can actually see with your eyes of course. But then, there are lots of parts of the spectrum light that we cannot see. We only experience the results of its existence. It takes a different kind of looking.

These ‘Children of Light’ are sometimes camouflaged by the relentless battering they receive by the Fatima Senior Choir and the Parish Priest, Fr. Archie D’Souza. Yet, they let their light shine all the while. And, though they may be left out of all major occasions of the Holy Church of God to sing songs of praise, they continue to shine all the while. And, even though they may be restricted from singing for masses such as requested weddings and special occasions, they still sing & shine all the while. A long time back on Mother’s Day too, they were considered outcasts and forbidden to sing songs of love to their very own mothers…..their mothers are still proud of them. That little light of theirs just keeps shining on. They are the St. Dominic Savio Junior Choir;

And they live by this motto which has become a part of their vision

To Look this way is to See.

To See is to have Vision.

To have Vision is to Understand.

To understand is to Know.

To know is to Become.

To become is to Live Fully.

To live fully is to Matter.

To matter is to become Light.

And to become light is to be Loved.

And to love is to Burn.

And to burn is to Exist.

Off and On! Off and On! Off and On………..............

Maybe the Fireflies and the St. Dominic Savio Junior Choir are on to something?