The city is an endless urban sprawl and my longing for the hills remains. Still, life does throw up its consolations.
Last night found me racquet in hand, trying my best to get across the court to help it meet uncooperative shuttles. Its the one game that I played as a youngster, so it was nostalgia and adrenaline high all mixed up. Nice. End of the evening, I sat on the bench cooling off and watching the last game of the day. Counting points and thinking random thoughts in much the same fashion as one counts sheep, cows or the tick of the clock before falling asleep. Thought of Cdru and Cru who taught me the game (“no bodyline” and “Call it shuttle NOT cock” , “don’t swing on a high shot until you can see the shuttle through the net of your racquet” ) and P and S whom I tried to teach in turn. Of the equality of games (and T who has expounded on it before) and logically then of Dwarka Sports Complex.
The foursome on the court (including the rather aptly named Grace) made me wonder why basket ball is the game of choice in this country. The small build and quick movements are so beautifully suited to a game like badminton.