"Damn it…" I mutter under my breath when I read the message on my mobile.
"The test is scheduled for tomorrow. The syllabus comprises the first three units. Please prepare well, as it will not be postponed to a later date. All the best."
"The presentation of your review paper is scheduled for tomorrow in the tutorial class of 2 hours, so please be prepared. Tomorrow is the first and last date to present; inability to do so will lead to zero marks for performance. All the best."
"The submission of your report is due tomorrow, so kindly start working on that. All the best."
"All the best? All the best?"
A stressful laugh echoed through the walls of my hostel room as I threw my bag onto the chair and plopped myself onto the bed. Heavy breathing, stress, and tension seeped into my body; I had no strength to work on any of those assignments.
I never thought college life would be so… so stressful. Either life on social media was way too beautiful or… they never told the truth behind it.
My other classmates, in their colleges, enjoyed, attended parties, fests, sang, danced, and what not, and here I was, following the routine of a corporate job...9–5 tiring classes...working like a robot.
Even if I thought of joining any of the organizations, it would be so tiring that I would not be able to spend time on my studies.
"Aagghh… why do I even choose this university? I just want to melt away from the world. I want to run away… run… run so much… so… far away that nobody can find me… without leaving any trace."
Everything at that moment was going so wrong. I did not want to do anything; I just wanted to have a nap. I was sleep-deprived, I was hungry, I was… I was tired.
The clock ticking on the wall and in the corridors of my hostel room was ever so silent. My room was dimly lit, and the air from the air conditioner made the room so very cozy to sleep in. The only wait was to open the blanket… wrap myself around it, plug in the earphones with slow music, and fall into deep slumber.
I tossed around and closed my eyes. A dark void and a voice in my mind, eyes fluttering, as if trying not to sleep because if I did, there was a very high chance that I would wake straight in the morning.
My mind practically begged me to wake up, but my heart wanted a good night's sleep. Slowly, my body got more and more comfortable in the bed. My mind practically shouted at me to wake up and complete my assignment.
It was high time.
Groaning and irritated, I got up from my bed, grabbed my everyday clothes, slipped into them and freshened up. Then I had a bit of motivation to study. Pulling my hair up in a bun and grabbing the study table, I opened my laptop, side by side my register and pen, and started working on my deadlines.
I was a final-year student, and after my studies, I was either dependent on placement or had to wait for three more months to apply for a teaching job. I always had one dream. Only one: to make my parents proud.
I was an average student from the beginning, I always scored between 70–80%. If I studied harder, I could have made it to the top as well, but I never did. I had always been a last-minute person.
"If tomorrow is not a due date, then today is not a do date."
That had been my principle since the word principle existed. My parents never pressured me to study, nor was I too bad to score bad marks. They were always happy with the marks I obtained, but when I joined this university, my marks were exceptionally good.
I was holding a 8.7 pointer in my final year, which was a very good score according to my parents. I still remember the day when I first told them about my CGPA in my university; they were all smiles, and that was the day when I thought that I somewhat achieved what my parents wanted.
So now, not studying felt like shattering their hopes. My relatives were so keen on making me illiterate that they said things like, "I have the habit of cramming things, I fight all the time, and I cannot score good marks. I am useless. I do not know how to respect someone… and even, they had the audacity to speak that 'We were happy with one child, but your parents decided to make you.' They should have listened to us."
My parents were happy to have me, so who were they to come in between and give their opinion?
Did I ask? No.
Did it matter? No.
Did they matter? Hell no!
Those marks were a tight slap on their faces; those marks were proof that they should not mess with me again. Their pea-sized brains were still fixated on the fact that the person who scores more was way smarter than the person who scores fewer marks.
They were still fixed on the fact that the person whose color is fair was automatically more beautiful than the dark one. Bloody racist.
I hated them… I hated them to the point that I felt irritation whenever I saw their faces or heard their voices. They became so… so protective of their children, that no one should speak against them and they always took a stand with their children and then, they had the audacity… fucking audacity to speak ill to the other children; to top it all, they spoke it in front of their own parents only.
They always thought that they were older, and being older gave them the privilege to speak anything to anyone, no matter who was in front of them. Therefore, I lacked the motivation to study.
That was enough. When I remembered those things, when I remembered what they did and said to my parents, the way they depreciated me, my blood boiled and I straight away started to study.
Although I was a last-minute person who somehow managed to score good marks. Plugging my earphones in and drifting away from the noises, I prepared and prepared well.
Every assignment went according to me, the way I prepared it… I presented it in the same way.
With everything submitted and the pressure finally off for the day, I felt like I earned this moment.
That day was also the last day of the session and about 1 week from then, we had our final exams. Then came some time to relax, so why not spend it playing badminton? It was not a bad idea. Playing badminton was my daily routine. Not even a single day did I miss my game. For fun or training, it was on my to-do list. Just like every day… I packed my bag and jumped to my destination.
Badminton was something that soothed my mind. Stress, anxiety, frustration were all gone once I stepped into the court. It was my happy place. I could play it for the warm-up or for the practice or for the matches. This was the only game where you could play aggressively against the opponent and still enjoy it.
Changing my clothes to shorts, a comfortable t-shirt, tying my hair in a bun, and my laces tight enough so that while dancing to hit the shots… hitting… while trying to hit shots, my shoe would not find its way to hit the shot on someone else's face.
I was good enough to hit smashes, backhand, forehand, reach places where the shuttle landed, and hit them before they hit the ground.
I enjoyed it while, on the other hand, there was a person sitting and grumbling because some idiot friend of his dragged him to join or accompany him to his practice session against his will. He was sitting on the nearby bench while shaking his leg and arms folded and mumbling something.
While sulking and grumbling, his eyes found their way to the very next girl who was dripping in sweat, breathless, dancing, and jumping to hit the shots. His eyes were fixed on her, not moving an inch, and his gaze went back and forth between her and her techniques to hit the shuttle. The girl was me.
Both my hands were in the air with a proud victory grin on my face. It was my 3rd consecutive win, so why not celebrate with the expressions only? I was good at giving expressions.
Starting with my 4th match, I hydrated myself while wiping my sweat off and pushing strands off my face that clung onto it. I placed myself on the right corner of the court, just an inch away from the service line, and there went the shuttle. On the other hand, this man's grumbling now stopped for around 15 minutes, and in the meantime, he was standing behind the pole of the net, to my right, and to his luck, my opponent hit the shot to the end of the right side of the pole. To hit the shot, I came running from either side, my racket sweeping in the air, hand stretched out completely with legs stretched enough to hit the shot, and my eyes followed the shuttle when it interrupted my vision.
To my surprise, someone was standing there. It was too late to realize, I was ready to hit the person right on his face but fortunately, it did not hit the person… but the pole instead.
"Woahhh… I miss it…" I said with a tone of disappointment and concern for the person.
"I am sorry… I hope I do not hit you."
"I am absolutely fine… thanks to your reflexes… I am standing here completely fine and in one piece, but it broke your racket."
"Aagh, never mind, the list of broken badminton goes…"
"Oh, makes me feel bad…"
"It's okay… it was my favourite one." I mumble under my breath.
We both exchange soft smiles.
"You are a cheater…" Ankit shouts.
"No, you are a cheater…" Maitrey snapped.
"It is not a rule…"
"It is… if only you pay attention in the badminton classes…"
"Mind your tongue and tone… I definitely know the rules and you are the one who is wrong…"
"Ohh… says the one who plays aggressively and even does the cheating?"
It was a lot to handle.
"STOP THAT!" the deep voice echoed while making both of them quiet while seeking the attention of the whole crowd.
"I am sorry, you may continue doing your work." He apologized while burning holes in both the persons who were fighting as if their lives depended on it.
"Care to explain what happened?" Anaira and Dhiren both spoke at the same time while sharing glances.
One of the friends took the initiative.
"While serving, the racket must not hit the shuttle higher than the waist… is not a fault… right!"
"IT IS A DAMN FAULT. WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT?" Ankit said, raising his voice.
"It is not a fault…" Dhiren said, while his face was completely relaxed and arms folded in front of his chest.
In this chaos, one was listening and expressing disappointment on her face. These kids…
"It is a fault…" Four words… just four words… were enough to catch their attention. It definitely offended the opponent party and the one who was in favour jumped like he won the war.
"It's not a fault…" Anaira said... gently.
"It IS a fault…" One's voice was extremely calm while the other one was completely furious… like how could you stand against him.
"You and Ankit definitely need to learn the basic rules…" Dhiren and Maitrey teamed up against them proudly.
"And to your surprise, says the one who is absolutely wrong ACTUALLY…" Me and Ankit teamed up to defend ourselves and for about 10 minutes the chaos was created, when finally in conclusion, they decided that they would take the help of the Internet.
Top most faults of badminton to avoid doing them:
• While serving, the server should always serve lower from the waist.
The first point was enough to make their faces pale.
"Fault? Or should learn the rules first? Or cheater? Who should learn the rules first? We or these two dummies." Ankit sarcastically commented.
"Basic rules guys, you should have known basic rules before playing." I said, and the favour team laughed loudly.
Silence was interrupted and a wave of embarrassment came up against the team as an offer came up.
"A match, it will cost."
"What?"
"Dev must be wondering how to bribe me… not to tell anyone about this incident… And for bribe I will take one match."
"Between who?" said Dhiren while giving him a side eye for calling him by his nickname.
"Anaira and Dev…" Maitrey excitedly said.
It was sudden and before I could realize, the argument dissolved into laughter and friendly teasing. I felt a strange warmth crawl up my spine. Perhaps it was the sweat, or perhaps it was the realization that not every aspect of my college life was suffocating. For a moment, I was not just a student racing against deadlines, I was a girl with a racket in hand, friends by my side, and a spark of life in my eyes. Dhiren smirked as he looked over.
"Ready to lose, champ?"
"In your dreams," I shot back, though my voice had more of a grin than a bite.
And just like that, a challenge was born. A match, a moment, and maybe… just maybe… a new story waiting to unfold.