How She Played Badminton

She was fast,
she was strong,
she was canny, but mostly she had
the stamina to outlast you no matter how fast
you thought you could run
She could run faster
Her legs went on for miles
For every step that she took
you would have to take twenty
She was limber
and she could stretch down to the ground
and then up to the sky in a matter of seconds
How she dominated the court,
the net held up with two fallen branches from the maples out front
In her prime she did not rely on a net game
faking you out. She revelled in the chase, the running game,
and it was fun to indulge this passion
and challenge yourself to see how much you could run before she would outdo you.
Sending the birdie back to the same place
over and over again
(left corner was her weakness)
On long volleys I would send it there
and she would return to me
Her wrist relaxed snapping the racket til it shot
the feathers across

The neighbor who took the game so seriously
called her devil child

She was invincible

No comments:

Post a Comment

Please leave a comment

How Dina Aunty relished her memories. Mummy and Daddy were the same, talking about their yesterdays and smiling in that sad-happy way while selecting each picture, each frame from the past, examining it lovingly before it vanished again in the mist. But nobody ever forgot anything, not really, though sometimes they pretended, when it suited them. Memories were permanent. Sorrowful ones remained sad even with the passing of time, yet happy ones could never be re-created—not with the same joy. Remembering bred its own peculiar sorrow. It seemed so unfair: that time should render both sadness and happiness into a source of pain.

> From A Fine Balance by Rohinton Mistry