The excitement was beginning to settle in. I could feel it as I scrolled through the endless stream of messages buzzing in my WhatsApp. I messaged Dhara and Kajal:
"So, what's the plan for the Jaipur trip? When are we leaving? Are tickets booked yet?"
Dhara immediately replied, "Boss, we were just talking about it! Wait, let me add you to the group."
Seconds later, I was added to the group titled "Jaipur Tournament Squad". Messages were flying back and forth, mostly the boys arguing over train timings and routes.
"We should take the one that leaves at 5 PM." "No bro, that one's too late, take the 3:45 one." "Have y'all even asked the Sports Secretary?"
And then... Kajal stormed into the chat.
"YOU GUYS ARE DUMB. JUST ASK THE SPORTS SECRETARY TO BOOK THE TICKETS. DON'T MAKE THIS A WAR ZONE."
The chat went silent for five seconds. Then one of the boys sent a thumbs up emoji. I stifled a laugh.
The next morning, we all met on the court for practice. It was just me, Kajal, and Dhara on one side. The rest of the courts were filled with boys diving, smashing, and sweating buckets. Boys from mechanical, civil, electrical—everywhere. The badminton boys team looked razor-sharp with their footwork. The TT (table tennis) boys were furiously spinning their serves at the tables on the other end.
I didn't know any of them personally, except Dhara. Kajal tossed me a racquet. "Let's teach you the real game now."
They walked me through the basics again—my grip, my footwork, where to aim, and the match format.
"Every match will have three sets," Kajal said, tying her messy bun tighter. "Two singles, one doubles. Whoever wins two out of three wins the match."
"We'll probably be playing doubles together," Dhara said, stretching her arm. "And boss, we need you to take at least one singles match seriously. We're counting on you."
"Alright, alright. I'll give it my all," I said with a little smirk.
I practiced for hours. My arm ached. My legs felt like noodles. The air was heavy with sweat, shuttlecock feathers, and adrenaline. I was just about to take a break when my phone rang.
Shourya.
I picked up, panting. "Hello?"
"Where are you? The class is empty without your nonsense."
I laughed. "I'm on the badminton court. Training."
"Coming!"
Before I could stop him, he was there. He grabbed a racquet, jumped into the court, and within five smashes had the boys chuckling at his awkward moves.
"You're killing it," I teased.
He grinned, missed one more shot spectacularly, waved goodbye, and exited the court with his trademark flair.
In the evening, the sports faculty arrived. All of us — boys and girls from badminton and table tennis — gathered around in a circle, exhausted but charged.
"The Jaipur tournament is being hosted by a reputed private college," the faculty announced. "Your travel and stay are sponsored. Tickets will be shared in your group tonight."
There were cheers and high-fives all around. This was happening. I glanced at Kajal and Dhara, and we all shared a quiet, proud nod.
On the way back to the hostel, we couldn't stop giggling.
"What are you wearing for the matches?" Dhara asked.
"Umm... I'll figure something. Got some extra, if you two need anything," I said casually.
"Boss, you're too sweet," they said, nudging my arms.
That night, during dinner, my phone rang. It was Kajal.
"Boss, send 200 rupees on the QR in the group."
"Wait, what for?"
"Just see the group."
I opened WhatsApp. It was a storm of messages — memes, banter, ticket discussions, and lots of QR codes.
"Dang, they're fighting again," I murmured.
I paid. Ten minutes later, PDFs started popping up — tickets for the boys' badminton team (six players), table tennis boys (four players), and us three girls. All on the same train but... different PDFs. I chuckled.
Later that night, I curled up in Meher's room with a bag of chips. We watched our comfort series and laughed at the dumbest jokes. The excitement was bubbling. I could already imagine the thrill of the matches, the chaos of train rides, and the unforgettable memories waiting in Jaipur.
The next morning, Meher, Shourya, and I went out for some last-minute shopping. Meher picked out a couple of comfy track pants and tees, while I bought a new pair of Yonex shoes to play in. We wandered around the mall, got distracted in a soft toy shop, posed for silly selfies, and tried on sunglasses we knew we wouldn't buy.
We ended up at Burger King. As expected, the great food debate began.
"I want fries and a wrap." "No! I want a full meal."
Before it turned into a war, Shourya chimed in with the cheapest three-meal combo. We laughed, agreed, and dug into our burgers, fries, and cold drinks. The perfect pre-trip fuel.
While munching on a fry, my phone rang. Mom.
"Beta, do you need any money for the trip?"
"Can you send me 3000? Just to be safe."
"Done! Check your phone."
I smiled wide. "Love you, maa. You're the best."
Back in the hostel, things escalated quickly. It was already 4 PM, and the train was at 5 PM.
Kajal: "Boss! We will be late. Please pack your bag and give your leave!"
I sprinted to the hostel warden, phone in hand, putting my mom on call to confirm I was leaving for the tournament. Then I ran up to my room.
As soon as I reached, a wave of pain hit me. I dashed to the washroom.
"Seriously? Periods? Now?" I groaned.
I grabbed a pack of pads, tossed the whole packet into my trolley, changed quickly, grabbed my laptop, and zipped everything up.
Outside, my friends were hugging me goodbye, and Shourya was already waiting with my trolley. I handed it to him and gave him a grateful smile.
My phone was exploding with calls — unknown numbers, but I knew it was my juniors.
At 4:35 PM, I reached the college gate where everyone was standing, stressed.
"Chill, chill. We'll reach. Trust me," I said, trying to calm them down.
We crammed ourselves into three autos, our bags balancing dangerously. The ride was chaotic but thrilling. Everyone had that competitive nervous energy.
We reached the station just in time. One tall, thin boy almost ran onto the wrong train.
"NOT THAT ONE! Opposite platform!" I yelled.
We all boarded the S3 coach and found our respective seats. The girls sat together, just ahead of the boys. The TT boys team was mixed in with the badminton boys team, and despite all the chaos, we made it.
The train whistled and began to move. We all sat back with a sigh of relief.
The tournament had already begun — just not on the court yet.