My life as a tennis racquet

tennis

tennis (Photo credit: Marc Di Luzio)

I  happen to be a Racquet,I am bruised and battered by my owner,yet I cannot complain.I have no voice.My owner is a famous player.He treats me as he sees fit.The other day he was playing in a grand slam tennis tournament.Things were not working out for him,he kept making the wrong shots,at this point I knew my days are numbered.I knew he is not going to admit,he is having a bad day.

We all are guilty of pinning our mistakes on others.This day all the blame,came my way.My owner was doing everything right,I was the one making all the mistakes.

After a lot of unpleasant words  with the umpire,all the anger was directed towards me.He took me and started battering me.It came to a point when I was no longer fit to be played with.I was thrown a few times on the ground and then all was quiet.I no longer looked like the handsome racquet  I was,but an ugly twisted piece of crap.I landed in the dump with others who had the similar fate.No one remembers what a dutiful servant I had been.

A Wilson brand tennis racquet with a Roger Fed...

A Wilson brand tennis racquet with a Roger Federer theme and name on it. Racquet has a 4 1/2 inch grip. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

6 thoughts on “My life as a tennis racquet

  1. Pingback: My life as a tennis racquet | Sabethville

    • Thank you Robert.
      I have realized recently,maybe I should write things keeping in view the inanimate
      objects as well.After all they give us enormous pleasure,whereas we take what we can
      from them and mercilessly toss them when we decide,we don’t need them any more.
      Yes,Robert it does have many layers.Thanks for pointing it out.
      Ranu

      • Greetings,

        I once read a book by about Morita and Naikan psychotherapies. They were, I believe, created by a Japanese man, and were intended to help those who sought more mindfulness in their lives and more effective action.

        Part of the therapy was to awaken people to everyday material objects in their immediate surroundings such a pillowcase, dishes, one’s clothes. It recommended activities such as not just throwing one’s bed clothes in the corner when you get up. Rather, it advocated an almost tea-ceremony-like mindfulness of treating the clothes like they were a loved one, and thus carefully folding and placing them in a special place.

        This is one thing your post leads me to think on…that is, treating each other with care, kindness, compassion.

        When I read what you wrote (“It came to a point when I was no longer fit to be played with.I was thrown a few times on the ground and then all was quiet.I no longer looked like the handsome racquet I was,but an ugly twisted piece of crap.”), I didn’t think of a tennis racquet, but a person. I felt a lump in my throat. Do you know what I mean.

        All good wishes,

        robert

      • I do understand what you mean.I am glad you wrote about Morita’s book.When I write about an inanimate object,I know
        I won’t have to be concerned that this may lead to complications for me.I knew exactly what I wanted to say.I held back
        because then a lot of controversy will come out of it.
        Ranu

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