“Ready or not here I come .” I would dread these words at every play session.
Once I stood behind a much older girl, who was having a bet of who-can -chuck -the -flatstone -farthest, and she placing the object on her left palm, swivelled her right fist , and hit me smack in the nose. I was helped into the nurses’ office , dripping crimson all over the pristine convent marble floor. I almost passed out and the pain lasted two days. The dread of games and play cemented itself further.
Other was this innate fear of being the first to be caught -in-the -open , in the case of hide and seek. I always was . Without fail. Thereby condemned to the ignominy of being a “thief” for the entire recess. For many recesses of my school life in fact. I sucked at games. I was pathetic. I was always rescued by a friend of my sister who took pity on me .
Then there was this unforgettable game called "Kabbadi", a boisterous contact sport where in you have to hold your breath, chant inane mantras , and "touch" your opponents into oblivion. They , in bargain, shall try , by sheer brute force, to keep you in the confines of the "borderline ". A severe sense of dismay overcame me when I found myself sucked into participation, unwittingly. Needless to say , this game too, gave me and my siblings many grazed knees and elbows, bleeding noses and torn vests.
Now , in today's precocious universe, even an innocuous word like" play" is likely to assume lurid connotations . Like "gay" , "like", "select" and "rainbow" etc. Nothing is sacrosanct/mono meaning . All words have a doppelgänger. A double entendre. It is dangerous to pretend to stick to one meaning.
Why the other day , my spectacle repairman told me, with mild exasperation , after days of having made me run to and fro , -"Behenji, kuch bhi kar lo , itna play to rahega!"(whatever you do , the "play" remains ).
He meant the earpieces , i thought of hide and seek , and beat a hasty retreat, grabbing my still "playing" earpieces.
Once I stood behind a much older girl, who was having a bet of who-can -chuck -the -flatstone -farthest, and she placing the object on her left palm, swivelled her right fist , and hit me smack in the nose. I was helped into the nurses’ office , dripping crimson all over the pristine convent marble floor. I almost passed out and the pain lasted two days. The dread of games and play cemented itself further.
Other was this innate fear of being the first to be caught -in-the -open , in the case of hide and seek. I always was . Without fail. Thereby condemned to the ignominy of being a “thief” for the entire recess. For many recesses of my school life in fact. I sucked at games. I was pathetic. I was always rescued by a friend of my sister who took pity on me .
Then there was this unforgettable game called "Kabbadi", a boisterous contact sport where in you have to hold your breath, chant inane mantras , and "touch" your opponents into oblivion. They , in bargain, shall try , by sheer brute force, to keep you in the confines of the "borderline ". A severe sense of dismay overcame me when I found myself sucked into participation, unwittingly. Needless to say , this game too, gave me and my siblings many grazed knees and elbows, bleeding noses and torn vests.
Now , in today's precocious universe, even an innocuous word like" play" is likely to assume lurid connotations . Like "gay" , "like", "select" and "rainbow" etc. Nothing is sacrosanct/mono meaning . All words have a doppelgänger. A double entendre. It is dangerous to pretend to stick to one meaning.
Why the other day , my spectacle repairman told me, with mild exasperation , after days of having made me run to and fro , -"Behenji, kuch bhi kar lo , itna play to rahega!"(whatever you do , the "play" remains ).
He meant the earpieces , i thought of hide and seek , and beat a hasty retreat, grabbing my still "playing" earpieces.
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