Today's badminton session was a class act.
What made the session so special was the quest to jump the wall - sounds unrelated & basic, but it most definitely is not! It sure was Déjà vu!
The place where we play badminton at night is surrounded on two sides by high enough boundary walls, a huge building on the third, and a short partitioning wall (which I wouldn't even call a wall - it was not even 5 feet high). While playing badminton today, during the first game of the night itself, the short wall grabbed my attention - it sort of reminded me of the athletics wing of sports complex we used to have in our school. It reminded me of the days when jumping as much as your own height was the norm (which I usually fell short of) in our school!
So the first game ended, and I walked towards the short wall, all eager to jump over it, and prove to myself that I still have it in me! Made a few advances, but the concrete wall pushed me back - Since the wall was all concrete, unlike the high jump station & the safe landing sand pit ahead that used to be the reassuring pad at school, I kept thinking of what if I couldn't jump over, and banged my head on the ground on the other side, or the likes. I rehearsed on a few bushes on the side, which actually were higher than the short wall, and could clear the bushes comfortably, but whenever it came to the short wall, something held me back.
Thinking I might need some more warm up before the leap, I started the second game of badminton as well. But I just could not concentrate anymore - after every point, I glanced over to the wall - and there it stood, laughing at me, making me realize how plastic I had become. I finished the game, and went over to the wall again - I had a point to prove, and I wasn't going anywhere without making it.
Twenty minutes, tens of attempts, various leaps later - I could gather so much courage as to jump so much so that my feet were landing on the top of the wall - and this took me back to Circa 1992, annual athletics meet, blue house trailing the leading green house by a razor thin margin, and every medal counting - and when we could just about make the gold medal in high jump (no, it wasn't me who got it - there was a five foot ten guy in our class when I was five feet two in 6th standard, who did the trick). And the cheering and noise that followed - that was almost my first tryst with passion for the team, for the house. And I could still feel it, standing over the short wall.
Trip down the memory lane - made the day.