Sports and calories

Right from the time I stepped into my teens, life has been like a marathon for me. There never came a time when I could just relax and wonder how time flew by. My family was a family of achievers in the field of sports. Apparently dad was a member of almost all the teams during his school days while mum, being a heavy weight back then, was the undisputed shotput champion representing Karponang house. I even saw the proof. My sister was a very popular athlete cum basketball player cum swimmer. My cousin was a SAI swimmer and a really good basketball player. My younger brother's love for basketball continues till this day. As for me, I first started swimming at the age of 12. It began with the so called Practice Team and, within a span of two years, I graduated to being a member of the main team. Apart from swimming, I always accompanied my sisters to the nearby basketball court in the mornings and while they would practice their lay ups and play with the boys, I figured trying shots from the yellow line was a good challenge every morning. This subconscious act led to something serious and worthwhile later.

During school we always had date clashes. The swimming and basketball tournaments always took place around the same time. As a result we were always made to choose between the two. While my sisters chose basketball, I never gave up on my first love- swimming. Wearing the school uniform, especially the blazer, and representing my school made me feel proud. It was only in the (46 degree) summer of 1998 when we wore the same uniform for the opening of the IPSC swimming competition in Mayo, Ajmer, that the proudness dissipated.

The first time I decided to try out for my house basketball team, I was kept as a reserve. As soon as one of the girls asked for a change, I stepped inside the court. It was one of my scariest moments till date. I knew how to shoot. I didn't know anything else. When the ball came my way within thirty seconds of play, I did what I knew best. I took a shot. Before I could think over my action, I heard a swoosh. I had just scored. I remember my sister's expression that day. Her clap was the loudest. She told me to look where I was standing and I realised I had just about crossed the center line. For a girl, a beginner at that, to be able to score from that far invited a look of disbelief from everyone. And that was only the beginning.

During my final year in school, I became the basketball team captain and, with it, I got an opportunity to finally lead the team to a tournament. We lost both the matches we played. But it wasn't winning that mattered then. We were up against two of the toughest teams. Our first opponents had a record of keeping their rivals at single digit scores until full time, while they reached triple digits themselves. That day, we managed to score 28 points. It must have seemed ironic to the referee for our team spirit was profound. Post match we laughed, we hugged, we sang.

Since then, I have played for many teams. I still sucked at faking, driving in and lay ups but my three pointers didn't let me down for a long time. My coach in college was especially aware of this gift. He never made me run with the girls. I was handed a medicine ball and asked to practice. The tall Sardar and his Jat friend were always asked to feed balls while I took shots. Both were amazing players themselves so I wondered why would they waste their talent following coach's orders? After a few months passed, I got my answer. It turns out Mr. Sardar had a crush on my friend and all he wanted from me, for the weeks of coaching, was her phone number. He got so much as an acknowledgment of his existence from my friend. Period.

Having always been into co-curricular activities, perhaps my bitterness for magnified body proportions stems from this background. I am not saying I am insensitive towards obese people. Some have genuine problems or issues. What I dislike is when people let themselves loose and don't do anything about it. The most ignorant fools being those who continue shoving buckets of unnecessary calories down their throat and then complain about their increasing weight. I think I saw the single biggest congregation of such women in the city today. Some go so much as to release a shopping bag from their first, second or third floor balconies while, at the same time, bargaining with the vendor. Well at least some of their creativity does reflect in this ingenious idea of reducing calorie burning from an already minuscule twenty to fifteen calories/day. I wonder what dad would have had to say, had we been city people ourselves. 

"Go for an evening walk my dear, I shall have a plate of hot jalebis waiting for you when you get back" perhaps.