This is my first ever officially published story...

Rebound

“You lazy cow! How dare you decide to relax when you should be on your feet? Get up before I kick the living daylights out of you!” He screamed like a wounded animal. All I heard was the distant sound of an engine charging towards me. It was later that I realized this engine was a figment of my vivid imagination. At that moment though, I knew my end had arrived and I was just minutes away from a sure death.

Jagat Sa’ab had taken it upon himself to separate my soul from my physical form. He was a ruthless machine with no emotions, and I was his prime target in the two months long ordeal: a Basketball coaching camp straight from hell.

My joy at being selected for the nationals disintegrated on coming to this place. More than a sports camp, it was like a Nazi concentration camp and Jagat Sa’ab was our jailor. He didn’t seem to have any humour, feelings or apathy for fellow human beings – no heart at all. What he did have was a long list of successful teams he had trained over several years. To compliment that, he had a long sullen face, void of any pleasantness and a constant stern expression that communicated his only interest – making our lives miserable. About his family, none of us were interested in knowing about it as there really was no need and hence, a mass decision was taken silently to refrain from being overly curious about his domestic life. Personally, I had my own angry young teenage emotions to cope with. That kept me quite busy and hence, I paid no attention to this old man coaching a bunch of young girls. He was clearly past his prime and couldn’t really do much harm – or so I thought!

It had been a tough year for me; overachieving parents’ unrealistic expectations for their firstborn had burdened my already slouching shoulders out of shape. Though, it was fun at times fancying myself as the Greek God, Atlas who carried the entire world on his back, being chided constantly for being too complacent and for starting a hardcore rock band wasn’t really a joyful experience. So, basically, I had bad grades, a bad attitude, a loud band, and hideous clothes on an eighty five kilograms frame and an arrogance which was a cause of concern for everyone around me. Basketball was the only comforting factor in my life and Jagat Sa’ab had come as the Devil incarnate to destroy my happiness.

The team members addressed each other with our respective sporting nicknames. Mine was ‘Maddy’ and I loved it. From day one itself, our rigorous training schedule and workout and conditioning regime had started. We were woken up at the ungodly hour of 4:30a.m. and made to run six kilometers, followed by stretching and warming up exercises for two games, back to back, eighty minutes without the timeouts. This was followed by another four kilometers of running and winding down exercises and an exhausting weights session in the gym for an hour; and this was only the morning session. In the afternoon session we had to work out the game plans and strategies while the evening session was a retake of the morning session. By the end of the day, we were all supposed to be too exhausted to even think; but thanks to my skills at playing truant and finding convenient shortcuts through the woods while running, I only did half the required working out. I was convienced that I was smart. It took exactly three sessions for the coach to understand my tactics and what followed was pure hell for me.

This made me the object of his undivided attention. When I ran, he ran with me to make sure I did not do anything fishy; when at strategies, he made me sit next to him so I wouldn’t secretly doze off; during the practice matches and exercise routines, he stayed close by to remain assured that I wasn’t shamming in anyway. Whenever I tried to make an excuse, he dismissed me calling me a lazy cow and never allowed me to rest. Finally, when he heard the others calling me ‘Maddy’, he had a hearty laughand nicknamed me ‘Mad Cow’ and that name stuck. Hatred is a mild emotion as compared to what I felt for him then!

I made up my mind one chilly evening that I could not endure this kind of ill – treatment at the hands of a retired Army Subhedar Major who was adamant on making this camp absolutely insufferable for me. The decision had been taken; I packed my bags and Rogue and Ice, my closest confidantes in that outrageous place kept the others away from the dormitory while I sneaked out. It was dark when I jumped over the fence to freedom, on the road that would take me home and, into Jagat Sa’ab’s hands. My blood froze in my veins on seeing him and he gave me a long cold stare. I prayed to the almighty that he wouldn’t understand the purpose of my brae nocturnal escapade; but even God wasn’t on my side that night.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” he said. My acting skills surfaced at once and with a pseudo astonished and a slightly hurt look on my face, I asked him, “What are you talking about? I was hungry so I was just going to get myself a snack.” Yes, it was lame, but that was the best I could do in that split second. He gave me a long hard look that told me what I had always suspected. I was dumb! “A snack, really? Well, I am not here to judge you, but at eighty five kgs, don’t you think you should avoid ‘snacking’ at odd hours?” he asked. “Listen, I wouldn’t give up the only thing that makes my life worth living, but I guess you are different. So, go ahead, I will not stop you from getting a ‘snack’ for yourself, but remember that opportunity doesn’t come knocking at your door every time. Besides, you weren’t good enough anyways!” saying that, he left just as discretely as he had come.

“How rude,” I thought, “how dare he say that I am not good enough? Oh! I’ll show him.” and I jumped right back into the dreary devil’s land. Rogue and Ice stared at me as if they’d seen a ghost, but, no one asked any questions and let me unpack in peace.

In the morning, the coach didn’t even look at me; it was as if the previous night had happened in my imagination. How could he say such a nasty thing and act so indifferent, I kept wondering the whole time. Then, while running, I suddenly noticed that the constant hovering presence around me was nowhere in sight today. So, I took my old detours and shortcuts and headed into the woods. I must’ve done about half a kilometer when I heard a voice behind me, “Back to your old tricks eh Mad Cow? Well from now on, you won’t quit, I will not let you quit! Come on! Get back on the track.” Jagat Sa’ab was back in action and it spelt trouble for me. So, I got back on the turf and lumbered towards the six kilometer mark with the coach on my tail.

I was not the fastest runner, or the best player on the team. Ice always completed the lap about a minute ahead of me and Rogue scores at least ten points over mine, but I was quite content at being where I was and too laid back to try improving my performance. That day, after the gym, Jagat Sa’ab spoke to all of us. He congratulated all those who had been doing well and expressed hope for improvement in the others. He did not mention me at all until the end when he said, “Mad Cow’s fat cells appear to have grown into her head because she seems to think that we will give her a chance to play in the tournaments.” I was shocked at this offensive statement. “I bet she cannot even complete a twelve kilometer cross-country, leave alone playing in consecutive games during the matches.” I could feel all the eyes turn towards me. I had to defend my honour somehow, but twelve kilometers was far too much. “What the heck,” I thought and yelled out aloud, “You think I cannot run a measly twelve kilometers? I don’t run because I choose not to, not because I can’t. I am going to prove you wrong. You just watch me!” I said defiantly. He just shrugged his shoulders and dismissed the merry gathering.

I was at my wit’s end all day. Twelve kilometers, how in the world did I get into such mess? I decided to go to meet Jagat Sa’ab and try and manipulate him to give me some time to complete this task. As I neared his quarter, I saw him sitting in his garden, relaxing with the newspaper. He put it down on seeing me and gave me a knowing smile. My frown was stuck on my face. I started, “About the challenge…” Before I could finish, he said, “I give you two weeks. Let’s see what you can do by then.” I didn’t even thank him and raced back.

For three days after that, I tried to increase my stamina, my endurance and my pace by running continuously, doing weights and endless sit-ups. Nothing seemed to work. I was more tired than I ever was and still, there had been no significant improvement. At the end of the fourth day, I was all ready to give up when he visited me at the dormitory. He took me for a walk and asked me if I was ready to quit. I ate my pride and replied affirmatively. “You won’t quit, I will not let you quit,” he said and told me henceforth, he would personally supervise my progress to make sure that I prove him wrong. I couldn’t understand his motives as to why was he helping me against himself; nevertheless, I decided to give it another shot, this time, his way.

The first thing that he did was to make me stand straight without slouching. Then he pushed me to walk straight and not my usual duck walk. Next, he made me jog with a deliberate breathing pattern which coincided with my stride. What followed was a smooth running movement which did not exhaust me much. I never knew this was possible. Jagat Sa’ab had come as an angel in disguise and I was thanking my stars that he decided to take charge. But, twelve kilometers was still a long way to go. My trainer ran with me for every mile so I never stopped. He said, “The only way to achieve perfection is repetition.” I was surprised at the amount of determination I was showing. This man had motivated me to dare and pushed me to the limit to do what I thought was impossible.

The day before the run, I was in good shape and ready to take on the challenge when my instructor came asked me to take a trial run on the tracks. I went and ran straight for ten kilometers; but during the final lap, I started getting a stomach cramp. I collapsed on the field. I knew it had to be a stroke and there was just no way I’d walk out of this field alive, and then I heard Jagat Sa’ab bellowing at me, “You lazy cow, I thought you had improved. Get up now and get running!”

I was upset at his insensitivity but still, I crawled and dragged myself onto my feet. The last kilometer was the fastest I had done so far. I gave it everything I had in me and completed it beating Ice’s time. I lay down on the grass, completely burnt out, feeling content at my performance, at the same time getting more and more angry at my coach for almost killing me and leaving without as much as congratulating me on my effort. I thought we had an understanding now. Maybe I was wrong. I had to tell him what a horrible man he was, so, I decided to walk to his quarters and give him a piece of my mind. My lines were all rehearsed in my head and I knew just what to say to him. Then he came out of his house, suppressing a delighted smile. His eyes were beaming. Mine were enraged. He said, “Why are you here, Mad Cow? You should be working on that final lap of yours. It was much slower than I had anticipated.” And then I heard myself say with fortitude, “It will be Jagat Sa’ab, I promise you it will be.” “It better be,” he said, “You won’t quit, I will not let you quit!”