Ah, the epic tale of Beena’s jealousy and my unexpected journey from being a track superstar to a rather sluggish relay runner!
It all began in the sweaty confines of my gym, with the Asian Games of 2023 beaming across the television screen. Annu Rani’s incredible javelin throw victory had me all mesmerized. Little did I know that this momentous event would transport me back to a hilarious memory involving my overly possessive classmate, Beena, while in class 6.
Beena, the self-proclaimed guardian of my playtime, lived just a stone’s throw away from my house. Our school days continued with laughter, mischief, and endless camaraderie. Beena’s possessiveness transformed into a bond that was unbreakable. We shared secrets, lunchboxes, and cherished memories that would last a lifetime. From sharing notes during exams to planning elaborate pranks on our teachers, Beena and I were inseparable. She guarded me during our games hour with the fierceness of a bulldog protecting its bone.
One day, while enjoying a rousing game of volleyball with another friend, Beena’s jealousy bubbled over like a pot of boiling noodles. In a fit of envy, she stormed into the sports room, where only one piece of equipment remained – the Javelin.
Summoning me to join her in a new game, I politely declined, not wanting to leave my volleyball behind. That’s when Beena’s fury erupted like a dormant volcano. With the javelin in hand, that was twice her height, she embarked on a wild chase across the sports field, her determination making her as agile as a gazelle on caffeine.
As I sprinted away from her at a breakneck speed of approximately 100 km/h, the entire class turned into a bewildered audience, jaws dropping in awe of my newfound sprinting prowess. Little did they know that my life depended on it.
Finally, as Beena’s pursuit neared its end, my classmates swooped in, apprehending her and calming her down. I was on the brink of collapse, having run like a marathon champion evading a cheetah.
To my astonishment, the games teacher, who had been silently observing this chaos, was impressed by my stamina and speed. She promptly enrolled me for the baton relay event, much to my surprise. The next day, during the sports day rehearsal, when it was my turn to grasp the baton and sprint, my speed plummeted to a mere 20 km/h. The games teacher shot me a disappointed look, and I uttered, “Miss, I am unable to run faster.”
The games teacher, inspired by my initial sprint, insisted that I continue pursuing the sport. There was no escaping her watchful eye, and soon enough, I found myself reluctantly committed to the world of track and field.
However, it didn’t take long for the truth to come to light. It was during one grueling training session that my faint-hearted nature was revealed. As I pushed myself to the limit, determined to impress the teacher who had shown faith in my abilities, I pushed a little too hard. In a dramatic turn of events, I collapsed, falling victim to a classic case of overexertion.
The entire track and field team surrounded me, the games teacher included, their initial awe now replaced with concern. It was then that they realized that beneath my fleeting burst of speed lay the heart of a faint-hearted individual.
My dreams of becoming a star sprinter were dashed, and the sports teacher, albeit disappointed, finally understood the limits of my physical prowess. As they say, some are born to chase javelins, and others are meant to appreciate them from a safe distance.
And so, my brief stint as a sprinter concluded, but the legend of Beena’s envy-fueled Javelin chase would forever remain a classic tale of schoolyard rivalry and athletic prowess.