“Tennis is a tough game,” Jigneshbhai said, wiping the sweat on his brow as he settled on his chair to have coffee the other day.
Unlike our sojourn with badminton, the one with tennis never took off. Swami and I took our seats and ordered a cold coffee for a change. We couldn’t agree more with Jigneshbhai.
“The serve is the toughest part,” Swami remarked. “However hard I try; the ball doesn’t cross the net. And if it does, it goes somewhere else. And if it falls correctly, it goes so slowly that the opponent whips it away. And then I have to run across court to fetch it. Ufff!” Swami was exasperated. I got tired with just the memory of running across the court.
After a few sips of cold coffee and a few bites of muffin, we found ourselves back to normal. But Swami still hovered around his serve that never took off.
“Let’s stick to badminton. It’s easier than tennis,” Swami concluded, after many arguments against tennis, especially because his serve didn’t quite make it to the other side.
“Why give up so soon? Let’s give it one more try for a couple of hours next weekend,” Jigneshbhai suggested. It didn’t go down too well with Swami and me.
“No point till we get the service right,” Swami reiterated. “Without the service, you can’t stay in the match. Forget about playing it. And winning it is a pipedream,” he said.
That outburst caught Jigneshbhai’s attention. His face had a sudden expression of intrigue. I wasn’t sure why.
“Nicely put,” he said, and added, “True in life too.”
That left Swami and I stumped, so to speak. I scratched my head to figure out what Jigneshbhai just said.
“I wonder why it’s called service, though. It doesn’t look like the server is serving anyone” Jigneshbhai said while I was lost in my thoughts. “More like punishing, both the ball and the opponent,” Jigneshbhai wondered aloud with a grin on his face.
“But what was that about being true in life, by the way? What did you say?” Swami interjected with a frown on his forehead, realising that he had missed something important, perhaps.
“Service is the toughest part in life, like in tennis,” Jigneshbhai replied. “Isn’t it?”
“Hmm.. Service?” Swami asked.
“Yeah. Being of service isn’t easy,” Jigneshbhai said. “And as you said, without the right service, you can’t stay in the match, forget winning.”
Which match, what service? Swami and I pondered over what Jigneshbhai had said. Why does he speak so much in puzzles? I still haven’t figured that out even after twenty years.
It was true, I reckoned after a while when I gave it some thought. Swami’s thoughts seemed on the same lines. Service was tough, but it was also necessary to play a part in anything.
“Maybe they call it service because it is the start of any point,” Jigneshbhai wondered aloud again.
“Without service, there’s no point?” he asked rhetorically. English wasn’t his strength in school but this time around he was playing with words.
There was too much wordplay for me and Swami to handle. This was all getting too metaphorical for the two of us. Deciphering when Jigneshbhai was talking about tennis, and when about something else was getting difficult.
As if that wasn’t enough, the wealthy old man walked to our table. As it is, he speaks cryptic most of the time. I am not sure whether his cryptic talk is better than Jigneshbhai’s wordplay riddles. I would reckon it is even worse. Swami and I wondered what more he was going to add to this discussion and, in the process, to our confusion.
“If you have a good service, you will ace it, and pretty soon, you will be serving for the match,” he said. Jigneshbhai smiled enjoying the fun while we scratched our heads.
For Swami and me, this was one wordplay and metaphor too many. It was game, set and match, perhaps.
***