Wind’s fault

Imagine me on one side of the division by a steel wire(originally meant for hanging clothes to dry, of course no net for home players) hanging a little crooked between the two walls and my sister on the other side of it. I am waving my racket, playing shots at the empty air and she is looking at me with a zealous fire in her eyes. She serves.

The shuttle cock lifts high and high and flies over the top of me. I thrust my hand upward to make my racket reach and hit it back but I miss because of the loftiness. It befalls and I bow down to pick it up. She shouts, “1-0”.

“But it was way too high.”

She doesn’t reply and I serve(we do not play by traditional rules. Anyone can serve anytime) while saying, “That is blatantly wrong.” And before my words reach her, the shuttle falls down… on my side. A fault in my serve. “I was distracted. I was talking to you.”

She doesn’t reply. And I pick it up once again to serve. Thankfully, it goes right. After a good rally, I gain my first point. The match continues.

“3-1”

“4-3”

“5-5”

Then, it happens. “10-6” “12-8” Shot after shot, she makes the winning points because I can’t match the height of her shots. I complain. Sometimes, she obliges by agreeing to giving no one any point but other times, I myself reward her with the increasing numbers because after all, my strokes are not good enough. And as she well puts it, “It is the wind’s fault. It is blowing in your direction and when I strike my racket and make a shot, the shuttle goes way too up than the height it is intended to reach while on your side.”

I know it to be quite true.

After I gain some momentum, the score reaches, 15-15.

“17-15”

“17-19”

“Game-19”

She plays the winning shot.

I say, “It was the wind’s fault. I could have won it.”

“Hmm. I won it from you for the first time.” She just nods but forgets to mention that it is the wind’s fault.

We play some more but eventually stop because of the fast blowing wind. See, it is actually the wind’s fault.

it is the wind’s fault

aiming at the height of it

shuttle cock befalls

~

shuttle cock befalls

eyes follow its passage down

palms freeze by wind’s fault

~

losing the high aim

I grunt and wipe my cold sweat

it is the wind’s fault

.

By the way, I won today. Yay! You did yay as well, right? End score: 21-17, 21-18. 🙂 I will be linking it up with the Poetry Pantry today. I will be here and there… somewhere but I will eventually visit you to read the poetic confluence of your words.

Advertisements