A couple of weeks ago I invested in a tennis racket and since then I’ve been playing non-stop. I’d been wanting to play tennis for about sixteen years. That sounds like a long time, doesn’t it?

In 1995 (writing that makes me feel ancient), my family had just left Afghanistan. There were rumours that the Taliban is soon to take over Kabul. My father, who had previously worked at India’s national radio, applied for the same position again. Lucky for us, he got accepted and the station known as ‘All India Radio’ paid for our entire family’s flight expenses.

At AIR (short for All India Radio), my father was given the duties of translating and announcing current affairs in Pashto–one ofAfghanistan’s national languages–which would be broadcast in Afghanistan, among other countries.

The job also provided for our housing. Known as AIR hostel, this piece of land downtown Delhi housed the most diverse inhabitants in the entire country. There were families from Thailand, China, Tibet, Afghanistan (us), Sri Lanka, Tanzania, Nigeria as well as from various states of India. Like my father, they all worked in the foreign languages department covering their respective native tongues.

There were Buddhist men with orange robes on and Tanzanian women wearing traditional African clothes walking around the hostel. Now that I think about it, I used to live in such an awesome place! In the middle of the hostel, a brother and a sister used to play tennis everyday. They were professional players. I know because when I went to their apartment, I saw more trophies than I could count.

I used to watch the two play, they’d play right in front of our main door. Sometimes, when one of them wasn’t around, the other would play with the wall. Watching them, I used to wish I could also play tennis.

The closest I go to that was joining the national stadium’s basketball team. My father always encouraged us to play sports. He paid the annual fee for the stadium. It was Rs. 1500 or $30.

I never missed a day. We would start by making two rounds of the nearby soccer field. Then, we’d make a huge circle and do various stretches. Thereafter, we’d do different exercises with the basketball–running to the end of the basketball court, touching the crease and then running back, running whilst dribbling from side to side, running whilst passing the ball back and forth with another member, doing two and a halves (running whilst dribbling the ball, stopping, taking one step, a second and then jumping up and shooting into the net). All of this was just a ‘warm up.’

Then came time for the real deal. Members were divided based on gender and age. I was in the younger team but despite my modest height, I was one of the better players. After playing a few matches, I’d walk back home. During monsoons, I didn’t mind the rain too much as long as I got to play a good game or two. Upon arriving home, my mother would have my favorite hot milk with a tablespoon of sugar and bread ready.

To this day, I call basketball my first love. I was even appointed as the captain of my school team. We participated in inter-school matches but never managed to win a single match. None of the team members had ever been played basketball, let alone having being trained in it. But winning didn’t matter ’cause I got to skip classes and play basketball. There was no way I was going to say no to that!

I got to play basketball quite a bit in my growing-up years. But tennis, never.

Cut to a decade and a half later, as luck would have it, the building I moved into after moving to British Columbia happens to have its own tennis court. My lifelong dream has been realized. I play with my younger brother, Elias. Elias and I have planned on buying a basketball so we can start playing that too.

Life is good 😉

Do I love sports more or gadgets? Sports…gadgets…sports…gadgets…do I have pick one? :S