My school

Today, i visited my school. For the first time in years, i was there after school hours. These lines that you see, is of the badminton court in my school auditorium. We had a state of the art, teak floored, 3 indoor badminton court. I started going for badminton coaching when i was in 3rd grade and i went through rigorous coaching for 6 years. I was not the best among the lot. But i had the stamina to keep playin. I was trained that way. Only the last half an hour or so was actual playing time. During summer vacations, we used to start our training at 6. With morning walk, stretchin exercises, running around the ground for half an hour, shadow play in the court and then we would be given a shuttle. I have played district and state level tournaments. And in one of the state tournament, i beat this kid who later became state champion in a very tight match. That was my last tournament. My mom stripped me off my passion. I was forced to stop playing for academics. this was the only sport which gave me that adrenaline rush. This friend of mine, whom i used to beat easily, became in state top 5 in 12th grade and i clearly remember the day he reminded me about it, and how chasing the passion, made him a seal PLAYER. Its been more than 8 years, since i stopped playin. I would want to get back to it soon. Really badly. Today i just got to feel the same court, the teak floor, the detachable posts, to see, the place where we were trained. Today my eyes filled with tears thinking about the lost opportunity. . . These lines are etched on me. And i swear i will not leave it. Not to win laurals, but to realise myself. . .