Amaldar Tennis!

RIGHT IN THE MIDDLE

Mysore Maharaja's College tennis courts are steeped in history, just as its other structures because of their colonial past. In the early '80s, my friend as professors in the university, Manu Chakravarthy and I happened to be regular spectators of tennis played by our senior colleagues. They played more to loosen their limbs than to ready themselves for any tournaments.

“Come on young men, pick up the rackets and do wall practice”, they would urge us. Always carrying a book in his hand, Manu would reel off the history of not only tennis but every other game in the world, but he would not play. As we had to engage the evening classes, both of us watched the veterans play for a while. They played with verve and vivacity embellished by a good dose of fun and frolic; friendly banter was never in short supply.

When Shivalingaiah, the geography professor, made hardly any move to return the serve, his doubles partner would duly admonish him, “Shivalingaiah, this is Amaldar tennis!” In the past, an Amaldar was such an elevated officer that he would never budge from his seat. Applications, appeals, files --everything came to him. So in Amaldar tennis, as a rule, the ball should come to the player, the player was not expected to reach the ball!

Likewise, “Perpendicular tennis” was another method evolved by another veteran. Ramaswamy, the Sanskrit professor would not receive the ball in a standing position; he would bend a little, almost squatting, and send the ball to the opposite court as if he was re-enacting the ritual in which he threw a ball of flowers at his bride as part of his wedding ceremony that occurred decades ago.

There was also match-fixing of some sort. They had made a rule that the juniors should win at least four games against the seniors if they aspired to play on the latter’s court. Once Dr Mallesh, the physics professor, had taken three games against the venerable Ramaswamy and was struggling to win the fourth game. Ramaswamy accosted him to the net and whispered something in his ears. Instantly, Mallesh’s visage brightened up and the game was resumed. To everyone’s surprise, Mallesh took five points in a row and won the crucial fourth game and thus became eligible to play in the seniors’ court. The murmur of match-fixing was drowned by the guffaw that reverberated all across the field even reaching the sports pavilion.

Though they watched Grand Slam matches played by the world champions, and analysed the nuances of the game, some of our veterans religiously stuck to their ‘Amaldar tenins’ and ‘Perpendicular tennis’. This, surely, was a great source of delight for us then.