Pitfall Writing
How a Tennis Game Introduced Me to a Familiar Yet Unknown Feeling
Playing through anxiety
“You look fabulous in the outfit,” was a classmate’s remark after I took off the abaya to immerse myself in an intense tennis session.
University was different from what most people had claimed it would be.
You are always under the scrutiny of others. Students chilling around cafeterias, chatting outside the physics lab, waiting in line to collect their assessments and wanting to get their dream job after graduation will stare at you endlessly.
It is a challenging place for someone who loves to keep to themselves.
I could never understand the hopes and dreams of people I came across in class, the girls’ playing area, the cafeteria, the student’s corner or the dean’s office. It seemed they were waiting for their chance to pass a snide remark and see through the veil. A friend once commented that the veil adds to the curiosity, “You just want to know what is in the burqa,” he explained.
I did enjoy school, college or university. It was just that adjusting to the norms was always hard.
People are always waiting for a chance to prove themselves right. One act and they are ready to label you:
- She is jealous.
- She is a nerd.
- She is moody.
- She is just nice.
- She doesn’t like you.
- She is doing it for scores.
- She does it for attention.
There might be a reason behind the need to label a person. But it was never as clear as the day.
The first month at university was tough because you are adjusting to the hectic normal.
In my city, college is a time to become independent in an unconventional way. You are enrolled at a government college because it is the best way to ensure good marks in the board exam, but you don’t study there. There are coaching institutions where you pay monthly to be educated by professors who have been in the field for over a decade.
Whether you pass or fail is your responsibility because the institutions do not pamper you endlessly like in schools.
My first few months at university were very similar to college. I attended classes, played on the tennis court at times, and went back home to do assignments and rest to begin the next day with new assignments and deadlines.
Quite a few of my friends back from coaching were enrolled in the same university. One of them, whom I had prepared with for the entry exam, stated that the hectic routine of the Civil Engineering department makes it impossible to earn good grades.
The rumours around campus were that the department has the strictest marking criteria, and hardly 20 per cent of students pass the first year. As if the environmental adjustments weren’t challenging, I had to maintain my CGPA above 3.7 in case I opted for a Change of Department (CoD).
With so much to juggle, I paid no attention to maintaining cordial relationships with my batchmates. So I don’t blame them when they see me as a Miss Goody two shoes who is always plotting her next act to impress the teacher.
Though I had never asked much from them in return, everybody seemed to have an unmet and unuttered expectation of the other.
The guys we partnered with for the final year project had assumed that we would look after everything for them. Their only duty was joining our group for us to meet the minimum number count. It was too late when we discovered that 4, instead of 6, members would have been enough.
Still, if it hadn’t been for my interactions with male batchmates, most of the unuttered university ‘understood’ would have been a mystery to me.
- Share your assignments with others to earn good deed points.
- Going to the teacher’s office means you are after marks alone.
- Keep your opinions to yourself, for you are a female and naturally not street-smart.
So, the unexpected compliment from her made me uncomfortable.
We had an online clash a few weeks ago where she misunderstood something I posted as a jealous take on what she had said during class.
Therefore, my confusion about the compliment was only natural, as most of them understood that a woman wearing an abaya possessed no fashion sense.
To keep my racing heart rate under control, I mentally took a note to never invite them again, even if they were free after class.
The next time I felt a sudden rush of emotions, I did just that.
It was after the most tiring class, just before our off time. I didn’t feel like taking a local bus to head home, so I decided to wait for the university ride. It was about to leave in an hour.
On the way to the tennis court, I saw the girl’s group chatting around the corridor. I quickened my pace to change course and use the main road instead of the alley to reach the place.
The uncomfortable churning of the stomach was making my dizziness worse. These occurrences were not as common before university. It was not severe enough to visit a doctor but not subtle enough to go about my day.
I saw the manager sitting behind her desk as I entered the building. She seemed curious to see me alone. I handed my belongings in exchange for the pass to enter the playing area. As expected, it was empty.
Luckily, this time, a good racket and a ball were lying on the floor.
I tossed the ball on the floor for some time before hitting it high to bounce off the walls. After a few shots, there was a certain momentum, and I could feel my body relaxing.
As if fate had decided for me to feel the feeling, the manager entered the court and asked me to wind up as the bus was about to leave in 15 minutes. Before leaving, she suggested that I enter myself, along with my teammates, into the Girls Tennis Competition. I knew it was never going to happen.
Though the feeling was not as intense as I first felt it leaving class, It was strong enough to pull me into a revelation. “I don’t like being the centre of attention. The teacher only asked me to answer the question. It wasn’t a big deal,” I dialogue in my head.
Seeing me immersed in thoughts, she handed me a pamphlet which contained the details of the coming matches. I folded it and kept it in the corner pocket.
To avoid further discussion, I hastened towards the parking lot, where my bus was parked.
