grey-haired, balding and muscle-sprained

To tell you the truth I am not that old. In times before, I would've been a mere few years over the limit. In the current state of the age-psychology I am just a few years away to the magic (and disliked for god-knows-why) number. I know you are not here interested to read this. I know that you most probably inadvertently tumbled in here for no fault of yours. So. Let me get to the point of the post, if it does have one.

I used to play tier- volley-ball in school. I was ok at it, relatively speaking. I was in a proper team and all that (It's a different matter that we didn't win much). Other than volley there was a spot of cricket (aarrghhh, I hate that game) and a bit of badminton, where some trained champs that I had for friends mercilessly smashed my egos to pieces. On a side note, there was one day when, one champ smashed another's awesomely light, all-graphite Yonex racquet that cost a small fortune even then. The owner, surprisingly, held his own and resisted smashing the breaker. Damn it, there I go off-tangent again.

So I used to do some active sporting in school. That vanished once I got into college. For one, the college team was no place for a frail, unaccomplished player like me. I don't remember any active sports/games during those four years. After that, when in my new job, a few of us got together to play weekend volleyball or cricket. That must've lasted for a few months but once again given up on. Beyond this, it was an occasional game during a team outing or such. Until this weekend that is.

Folks in my apartment community have been playing some clubhouse cricket on weekends. Our club-house is supposed to host a badminton court but right now it's just one big four-concrete-walled room. So every Saturday and Sunday a group of anywhere between 3 to 10 people gather around and play some bat and ball. After promising to join them quite a few times (and obviously not waking up before 09:00), I finally delivered on my word. This Saturday I played some no-net badminton for a half-hour. On Sunday played some cricket from 07:00 to 08:00 before totally giving up. I can't bat for someone's life or bowl for mine. Though I was in the zone for a couple of rounds, it soon became apparent that I am just not cut out for cricket. That and I was beat tired too. Thankfully no aches and bruises. I missed the touch-wood incantation and the thanked joy was short-lived. By evening I could feel my muscles pulling up tight and not the good kind of body-building tight. My back was sore, my shoulders were sorer. This is what sudden activity after a long hiatus does to you.

Anyway here I am (on Monday afternoon) boring you to death and still nursing some aches. Nursing them like a bad tumbler of blended whiskey - you don't really like it but you can't dump it. I am hoping that with continued persuasion it all becomes a nice, warming scotch on the rocks.

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  1. raks Says:

    approaching the magic number 30.

  2. Biju Says: