“I challenge you to a badminton match,” my brother said to me one day. “You think you are the best player in the world or something, I am going to prove you wrong,” he stated.


“Sure thing,Varun,” I replied. “The Battle of Badminton, you are on! Get ready to lose, little brother.”

Two days later.........


“Let’s go, Varun!” I shout.


My brother walks toward me, dragging my grumbling cousin behind him.


“Finally, for a minute I thought you got abducted by aliens” I exclaim!


I turn to the door, ready to feel the sun on my face again. Before I can utter a single syllable, my brother pulls the badminton bats and birdie from my hands and rushes out the door. I race after him, shouting that I want to go first. I shove my feet into my flip-flops and rush out the gate that separates the house and the street. By the time I get there, it’s too late. My brother and cousin are already playing Badminton, without me. A wave of frustration and anger washes over me. I take a deep calming breath that quickly smothers my frustration and rage. I stand there for a few seconds and make my way to my usual spot. I climb the small mountain of rocks leaning against my grandparents’ house wall and plop downl. He probably thinks that playing first means he is going to win the Battle of Badminton. Can’t wait to see his face when I beat him.


Having nothing better to do, I kick at the rocks and send them tumbling down the pile and onto the narrow street. I look at the street. My eyes can barely make out the lines of the pretend court that I drew a couple days ago. I glance around the neighborhood, not looking at anything in particular, when Sandeep’s angry voice jolts me out of my thoughts. Right on time.


“Alright, what’s the problem?” I ask, even though I know exactly what the problem is.


“Varun is cheating. Again,” replies Sandeep.


“Am not,” argues my brother.


“Uh, yes you are. We agreed that we are going to play till fifteen points. Right now I think we’re more around a hundred points,” Sandeep shoots back. “You just won’t admit that I beat you,” he continues, clearly displeased.


I try to get a word in to break up the argument, but the two boys are unstoppable and are talking a mile a minute. I try again and again. Finally, I give up, declaring them hopeless. I think about getting my grandma to help and quickly erase the thought. There really was nothing she can do. I stare at them arguing, my eyes bouncing back and forth between them; it feels like I am watching a tennis match. As I listen, I want to take my brother’s side and defend him, but I can relate to what my older cousin is saying. Varun has a thing about losing. He hates it. My brother admitting that he lost is like a bull refusing to run at a red flag. At this point my brother is shouting and my eyes nervously travel up and down the road to see if anyone is listening. When they both pause to take breath, I jump in, seizing my chance. I try to reason with my brother. And fail.


After a few minutes of pleading and yelling, I convince them both to play for five points. Surprisingly, they listen. I remind Varun that Sandeep is the referee for the battle and tell him to be a good sport. Two points into the game, I start getting devious thoughts. I try to push them back, but before I can stop myself, I yell.


“Oh come on, is that all you’ve got,” I taunt.


The instant the words leave my tongue, I regret them. The twisted expression on my brother’s face is unmistakable. It is a mix of hatred, anger and annoyance. I ignore the look and enjoy the moment. My brother serves and the birdie flies, wobbles, and lands five feet from where he served.


“Come on Varun, put some energy into it. How old are you? Two?” I shout jovially to him.


This is amazing. After another two rounds, my cousin wins and I slide down the wall and walk over to Varun for the racquet. He looks like he is about to argue, but he hands me the racquet and heads toward the wall, mumbling angrily about distracting him, plots, and betrayal. I smile and take my position. With my brother’s challenge in mind, I begin the game. My cousin throws the c*** in the air and strikes it with his racquet. It zooms toward me and I move to the right to intercept it. I bring my racquet back and flick my wrist. The birdie and the bat make contact and the birdie bounces back, sailing in a perfect arch towards my cousin. The shot is high, but my cousin’s tall frame easily reaches up and he hits it back to me. We continue to play; I hit the birdie again and again with a satisfying thud. The power racing through my arms makes me feel invincible, and I am refreshed. My brother watches enviously from where he sits. I feel a pang of guilt, but I quickly recover. Soon, I completely forget about my brother’s challenge. After fifteen minutes of playing, I am worn out, but it feels good to get some exercise and my body is buzzing with energy. It’s as if electricity is flowing through my veins.


I take a few minutes to calm down my heartbeat. Afterwards, Sandeep and I are on a roll again. This time my body is more at ease, I move gracefully to hit the birdie. It’s almost like I am dancing. At first the hits are slow and arch smoothly. Then they change. The game becomes more intense. Now the shots are coming fast and straight. I dive and lurch, this way and that. My body twists to reach some of the shots. I put more force into my swings and they go shooting at my cousin. We play continuously for what feels like twenty minutes and I realize that we’ve been keeping the birdie in the air, without letting it drop. I quickly glance at Sandeep’s face and see him grinning. He was enjoying this, and so was I. After playing for a few more minutes, we call it off for the day. Varun and Sandeep had played longer than Sandeep and I did, but I didn’t mind. I feel great. I go back into the house, my back sweaty and beads of precipitation lining my face.


Of course, the first thing my brother does is tell on me. He stretches the truth to the point where I become the girl who hogged the bat and birdie. I was also unfair and was apparently yelling at him, and I was also very mean for not playing with him. He further complained that my cousin Sandeep didn’t play as well him as he did with me. That made me smile.


“See, she’s even smiling,” he said.


My grandma quickly catches up on what is going on and pretends to scold me and orders me to play well with my little brother. Little brother, if only she knew I thought. After she leaves, I turn to my cousin and my little brother and wait. My cousin looks at me confused. Then a look of dawning crosses his face and he clears his throat. In his most professional voice:


“Ladies and Gentlemen, the moment we are waiting for is finally here. The winner of the Battle of Badminton challenge is.....” he pauses.


“Well, who is it” I ask impatiently


“The winner of the Battle of Badminton champion is Mounika!!


“Yesss, woo-hoo!” I shout. “In your face Varun, who’s the better player now, huh?” I mock him.


He storms out the door, probably to find someone to complain to. I smile at the thought and follow him. Some things never change.