Masks.

Sometimes all you see is the glittering surface. The cracks are very intricately concealed. Each flaw, each imperfection is sealed with beauty. Everything that isn't perfect is hidden. Every little detail is taken care of. It's like make up, you can conceal all your wrinkles, the lines on your face and pigmentation, but what lies beneath all that is what YOU really are. 

Everyone wears a mask. 
Multiple, maybe. 
But none? Not possible.

However, in due course of time, there will be one person who from beneath hundreds of layers of perfection will dig out a human being. 
An imperfect, flawed, clumsy, forgetful, but a very beautiful human being, nonetheless. That person will accept you for who you are, without judging and they will be there. To hear you out. To let you cry. To listen to what you want to say. To make you feel...secure. 

And, when you find that person who can see right through all your fake masks and love you for who you are, you know you have achieved all there is to achieve.

The fine line between giving up and hanging in there.

Her ankle had never been under so much pain. This was a new kind of pain. She doesn't know how to describe it. Whatever the odds may be, she was determined to fight till the end. Her skin glistened with sweat, her blue Nike tshirt was as wet as it could get, her hair were neatly tied up in a ponytail and she wore a matching blue Adidas cap. Her physical state was in ruins. However, she was strong mentally, hopes were soaring high, the will to play was at a new level, and she was at peace. She gave it everything she could, but it was not enough. She was upset. But she swallowed her fears. She conquered them. She was raised to do so. She lost, but this wasn't failure. She was raised to be a strong-headed, strong willed and courageous girl. She was raised to win, even if it meant tackling defeat in the way. 

Idiots.

Idiots.
Idiots, they call us
Idiots for being us
Idiots for laughing away our problems, dancing away the pain

Idiots for singing out our sorrows
Not caring about the stress that follows
For falling asleep staring at the stars
Gazing into each other's eyes for hours

Idiots for the words we say
And the emotions we feel
Our quirky ways
And our methods to heal

Oh, Idiots they call  us
They create such a fuss
"Idiots", they say
"Laughing away their problems, dancing away the pain
Kissing away their miseries,
Dancing in the rain."

They laugh, they criticize
Never do they say anything nice
They hate, they ridicule
They never embrace, they condemn
But what the don't understand is that the joke is on them.

I don't want to feel confidence. I want to feel rage-all consuming rage

It was a bright sunny evening, two friends-the best of friends- and one of the friend's brother and cousin decided to step onto a tennis court. They wanted something fun to do in the evenings and tennis seemed perfect to their parents. Their parents decided to enroll all four of them in a tennis academy, the best in the city, that is. They picked up their junior rackets which their fathers had brought from Canada, Head Radical Junior, and entered the court. With two very understanding and helpful coaches they began playing. Both the coaches were very patient with the four of them, they explained every little detail that was required for a second grader to hit a tennis ball. They did not only make the kids hit balls, but they also made them do all kinds of stretches and fun-games, as they put it it, after all, they didn't want to push the kids. It was a tedious job for 3 of them..but one little girl decided this was what she wanted to continue doing for the rest of her life. No, she didn't aspire to be a professional, she just wanted to be able to play tennis till she was very old. She wanted to be able to experience the thrill of hitting a ball perfectly till she breathed her last.

This was 6 years ago.

It's still the same today. That little girl is now a teenager, and a budding tennis player. She still loves tennis. Loves it even more, probably more than anything she loves now. It's her passion. After all, she has sacrificed hang outs with friends, parties, late night-outs, movies just so that she gets a chance she loves to do the most- play tennis. The bestfriend, and the cousin decided to stop playing because they figured they didn't like it anymore, and studies took a toll. The brother decided his heart was in football, and came to a conclusion that he had wasted all this time playing tennis, when what he actually wanted to do was play football. The little girl stayed determined, determined to play each and every day. In the process, she injured her elbow, her ankle, her knees. Her ankle injury was so severe that her physio almost warned her to be careful otherwise she wouldn't be able to...well, play anymore. She hated herself for loving the game so much that it was affecting her physically, and emotionally.
She hadn't always been this serious about tennis. Some days, she just went to the academy just for the heck of it. There were times when she absolutely hated tennis, but hate requires passion, and there has been deep, undying passion, always. She hated tennis because there was a time, September 2011 that no matter how hard she trained, so matter how much she put in, her game wouldn't get any better. It would just get worse, as a matter of fact. So, she gave up. She gave up putting her soul. She gave up playing whole heartedly. She went to the academy, everyday, but just because she HAD to, not because she wanted to. It was very hard on her. And then came October'11. After a lot of mental counseling, ways to control anxiety, new techniques, new tactics..she started playing well again. The emotions she felt inside her could not be put into words. It was beautiful to fall in love with tennis all over again. She went on a winning streak, getting a Silver medal at the CBSE zonal meet, and a bronze at the National meet in Maharashtra. It gave her a new high. Winning a match didn't make her proud of herself, it just gave her a lot of motivation, it drove her to achieve more. Her parents have always been supportive of all her interest-be it art, tennis, or photography-but they have never let their children (she and her brother) be arrogant, or cocky. They have always taught them it is not necessary to be successful in life, but to be a good person. You could lose and be a good at heart, and that would be important. She knows that her mother wouldn't love her less if she smacked her racket after losing a point...but her mother wouldn't be proud to know that she did. It wouldn't be fair on her mother,really. After her coaches, it is her parents who are her inspiration. Even after achieving so much in their lives, they still believe in simple living and high thinking, and they have taught their children the same. It is important to soar high, but also to keep your feet firmly fixed on the ground. Words to live by.

She has never liked summers. Essentially, because it is very hot, and she loves the cold.
But the summer of 2012 has been different. She has woken up early each and every day of her summer break to train. To train her heart out, to take out all her frustration by playing well. It meant no late nights, not many hang outs, a lot of tan, so much sweat. A little blood, a lot of water, even more Gatorade.A little less of BBM and Facebook, and a little more of fitness. But, she didn't mind.
Who would mind not being able to have fun when they could do what the loved doing the most? Not her, most definitely.
And, undoubtedly, the Summer of 2012 has been the best, so far.