Finding dimpled beauties

K Shajil Kumar

Months ago, during a morning walk on a road near the rear gate of a golf course, I saw a golf ball scale the lofty boundary fence and fall on the road, only to bounce over to the compound wall on the other side. I thought, “Damn, I wish the ball was less bouncy and had remained on the road, and I could have picked up a souvenir.”

Ever since, whenever I pass that stretch, I wish the same scene would replay with the ball staying on the road.

I even slow down a bit to look at the nearby trees and bushes to see if any golf balls that couldn’t scale the opposite wall are lurking around.

Soon it became an obsession to look for any tiny white spherical objects while traversing that particular stretch.

They say everything looks yellow through a jaundiced eye; for me, everything white and spherical appeared to be a golf ball at first look, and only the subsequent looks made me realise it was an eggshell or a discarded milky white bulb. I doggedly pursued this for a few months, and finally lady luck smiled.

As usual, my roving eyes were focusing on the tree bottoms, and my gaze fell on a white object. The sceptic in me thought it was too good to be true, and the usual suspects – eggshells and milky white bulbs – played in my mind. But when I bent to pick it up, my joy knew no bounds. It was indeed a golf ball with all its dimples meticulously arranged.

To be honest, it was the first time I was holding a golf ball – so far, I had only seen them in photos and videos.

A brief nodding acquaintance with the sport happened when Tiger Woods started dominating the sports pages, and it died with his inglorious exit.

The only takeaway I could gather during that short-lived stint was that unlike in every other aspect of life, being under par is celebrated in golf!

Coming back to the ball, I triumphantly put it in my pocket and walked home. I washed it to remove some mud and placed it in the showcase. This success only whetted my appetite, and my gaze became more focused during my walks.

However, the pickings were pretty slim, and the ‘sightings’ more often ended in disappointments. But it did not dishearten me, and there was no let-up in the gaze. Soon some of my sightings began bearing fruit, and I began finding more golf balls. Interestingly, once I was lucky enough to find a yellow one.

Till then I had no idea that golf balls come in any colour other than white.

Now I have a collection large enough to fill a bowl, with the lone yellow one having a pride of place in the middle. But the hunger to spot those white dimpled beauties is far from over.