Pot-chat

“Amma finished.” Amma knows that actually it isn’t but she likes to plays along. She sees the doors to both the toilets closed and much to the amusement of RRJ always opens the wrong door. Next few minutes while RRJ remains seated on the throne until ‘it’ is actually finished, Amma has to cook up some game that can be played till she is given the privilege of cleaning the backside. There are number games, there are word games, there are tennis games (rules of which can’t be disclosed), generally there is much hulla-gulla. But then there are those days when RRJ is a little reflective, he talks of people and incidents that have hurt him. And asks what he should have done. At such moments Amma feels like holding him tight but circumstances don’t permit so she says, “I know it feels bad but people and incidents such as those do happen so you should try to laugh it off.” “I try, I try so much but you know, tears still come in my eyes”.”Okay now finished”. Post clean up royalty rushes off while Amma is left wondering how the time is slipping through her fingers.

Strumming my pain-II

It was fun till the left hand was given the task of keeping three taut wires down at locations my fingers found it physically impossible to reach. Knuckles started buckling under pressure and one could see the verdict taking its shape. Not selected to even learn. Gosh with ego nicely bruised, where shall I hide?

A day later, got a new guitar. Found some amazing tutorials on youtube. Knuckles are still buckling but maybe holding that wee bit more, fingertips are bruised and the pain? Definitely strummable.

Strumming my pain

New beginnings or the beginning of the end, only time will tell. Somewhere between 5:00-5:15 this evening I will be taught the a, b, c of playing guitar and somewhere between the next fifteen minutes, based on my abilities to learn I will know if I am accepted as a student or given the boot. I wish I had longer and stronger fingers, I wish I had clipped the nails a little shorter, I wish people were willing to take weaker students, I wish my thumbs were not numb from playing basketball and fingers frozen in fear. My friend reminded me that I am doing this to myself at this grand old age because doing new things is fun. I am convinced it will be fun, perhaps a lot of fun, for whom is the question.

Playing ball

Can’t stop replaying the match in the head. A bunch of 40 year old men in red against a young college team exactly half their age also in red. 23-44. It was awesome that we held up so well till the end but sad that we didn’t quite get that rhythm that we are capable of. Even a single full-court match practice before the tournament would have done us a world of good. All said it was simply great to relive the memories of being closely involved in a tournament, but equally hard to accept that age is not on our side. Us, three women, couldn’t be part of the gang on the court but watching from the sidelines did our bit. One in particular behaved like an idiot. Later back home it was hard to go to sleep in the night, didn’t know that we cared so much. I am very curious to see though how our opponents do later in the league especially against the students of our own institute.