Yes, its me. A squash racquet, more precisely Gaurav's squash racquet. You can see my battered state in the picture. Today i died, or to put it better, it was the last day of my slow death. Ever since i got into Gaurav's hands this summer I have been thoroughly abused and thrashed all over the place. I am a HEAD, that is one of the best racquet companies in the world, I did not expect to die so soon. It felt good in the beginning, Gaurav's hands were soft, he handled me with care. Ensured that everytime the ball was close to the wall, he would let it die instead of thrashing me hard against the wall surface. But soon, he learned the tricks of the trade, albeit in the wrong fashion. He would smack me hard on the all the surfaces, ground, side wall or the back wall. Instead of putting his foot forward he would hit me on the ground to reach the ball. Running at full speed in the direction of the ball, i would get smacked on the wall. I would hit the ball on the way, but the momentum generated by his speed would cause the edges of my frame to brush against the wall. That did the maximum damage, as one side there was a hard strong grip driving me forward and on the other there was the frame that was being stopped by the wall. Causing high bending moments all along my whole length.
In the last few days, Gaurav had started throwing me hard on the ground if he lost a stupid point. Thankfully the floor is wooden and not solid brick and cement work like the walls. Everytime i landed on that wooden floor, i thought like an optimist. Hey, it could have been the wall and then you would have had it. And everytime Gaurav hit me on one of the walls, his favourite words were.. "Sooner or Later" and would look at my frame with a smirk on his face. As if he was an all knowing god who can see the imminent coming. Those were the times i hated him the most, more than the times when he threw me or abused me. I hate it when he thinks of himself an omniscient human.
I do not really know when this happened, but in the beginning it felt like the paint was chipping off, but it was really a deep fracture that had caused the rupture of the much expensive carbon fibre that my body is made of. Gaurav saw the crack and consulted Andy, who was also of the opinion that it was a chip of the paint than anything more. Not that either one of them could do anything about it. I had suffered a long deep crack on the inside and noone could do anything about it other than dump me in the bin and get another HEAD or maybe even a WILSON. That was the day when my slow death started. Though the best thing is that even i did not know that this was coming. I could still put in my best without having the thought of death lurking in the background somewhere, waiting for me to crack so that it could take my soul with it. Today death came unknowingly, without a warning, one point against the italian novice and there it was... I was no more. Even i did not know about it for a few seconds. The best way for a racquet to die.
My end is sweet yet bitter; beautiful yet ugly. Gaurav plays decent squash now, he has learnt his moves and moves well on the court. Though he is still a lousy arse, he knows how to make his opponent move more than himself. When he hits, he hits the ball hard, his forehand being stronger than his back hand. He used me effectively to place the ball as close to the wall as possible. Andy, his partner had to run from one end of the court to the other just pick up the return of the serve. Sometimes the ball was hit so hard and flat that it would just die before Andy could reach it. Those were some of the moments full of pride in my short life. Gaurav is not a master, but atleast he tries. And in the words of Paulo Coelho...."As long as there is enthusiasm, there is life". He lives it everyday.
Cheerios!
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