Size does matter!
1.68 inches is the minimum diameter for a golf ball by
international guidance. Well pardon me if facts are not accurate. No shame in
saying that I feel quite challenged when acquaintances of various order play
this game of ultimate prestige with ace. Lush green corridor on undulating plains
that adds to the visual quotient of the game speaks volume about the wealth
that this sport claims. In many preachy management sessions have heard deals
are not signed in board rooms but on golf courses while one strikes between the
holes.
Yes, amazon and flipkart’s of the world sell so many books
on this subject! Out of sheer curiosity bought one such book and studied all
about the mystery of 18 holes. Shhh… Some
knowledge are worthless on reading table. Have consciously noticed that short
profiles that has mention of golf in the last one or two lines of introduction
have always caught my eyes. Social posts in golfer’s shoes with expert or
amateurish look always made me search for something inside. I know why!
Let me share some little truths. Was caught up in a public place
around afternoon today. Had to squeeze in the overcrowded landing of a building
to let the spell of sudden shower pass through. At one corner of the road side
shanty noticed two teenagers playing a game. Guess they belong to the community
who have taken shelter below the city flyover. That is their home and drenched
in monsoon they kept sporting a game I enjoyed playing. Exactly that’s the
reason thought of penning something I loved years back and now buried in the
sand of times.
The balls were mostly 1 cm in diameter. Yes, of varied
colours. The rule of the game was completely different. No stick but a striker.
Placed the nine balls in three parallel rows and kept hitting them with the
striker till all were displaced. That was the bare basic one. One can do lot
of permutation and combination on it to make it moderate to complex. Red, Blue,
Green, Yellow….. My striker was white in colour with a streak of royal blue. It
was my favourite afternoon pastime. A good strike rate would always give me a
kick. A dry soil was the most needed bed for the game. Winters were the best
bet!
I never had a partner in this game and neither anyone to
encourage. Guess this was not a game to be played. However on my way to local
market for small time shopping, with a privilege of being unsupervised, many a
times have stood by street urchins who played this game in groups. How much I
loved to have joined them but had never been successful to do so. In every
given opportunity tried to learn the traits of the game. Every visit to the
local bakery shop (in my local terms gumti dokhan…, very unlike the fancy ones
that sells brown bread in air conditioned stores in my neighbourhood today), meant
careful transaction of an ball from the jar that had dreams unlimited! It
costed 5 paisa then. Such deals are history now!
Had negotiated an empty glass bottle of ‘Horlicks’ to store
my pride possession for several years. It gave me more energy than the booster
drink with a fat MRP. Was fanatic to keep adding various colours to the
collection! But had never had the courage to proclaim my love in public. There
was a stigma of being associated to a game that missed the elitism and the
support of social mind-share. It had made a silent departure from my life, quite
naturally. Nothing distinct in memory as to what happened to that jar. But it
had blocked some space in my mind. May have moved from the back burner to the freezer,
but preserved the spirit in totality.
After decades seeing two unknown street kids playing with
the colourful balls, mindlessly kept fancying the long lost jar. It was more
than many deals. They were dreams of a teenager who enjoyed playing alone.
Yes, I played with marbles. I should have continued… played
a shadow round this afternoon. What, you thought I have gone mad aspiring this
should have been a game in Olympics. Not at all, just that I realized that it
is quite a good exercise for fingers that keep typing for bread and butter J.