The badminton court at MICA is special in many ways. Situated smack in the middle of Palash and Parijat, it has seen over a decade of mind-boggling action, sometimes with racquet and shuttle too. For long it has borne witness to heated arguments and raging altercations on matters of all kinds. It has welcomed the groggy-eyed kids on their way to the classrooms, wishing them a good-day even as the afternoon sun kissed their unwashed faces. But what made it exceptionally ecstatic was twilight, the coming of which made the revellers flock, to fling their arms in the air, on its uneven and fissured expanse. Being an elemental entity, not only it has urged the heavy-hitters to hit the shuttlecock more heavily, but also welcomed the amateurs who until recently thought of badminton as a mere fly squatting extravaganza. It has enthralled and enraptured an unsuspecting audience by shoring up the clumsiest players and always given out a solemn message,’ Go home kid, ‘tis no place for you’. It has grown weary of seeing broken toes, broken shins, broken hearts and broken egos. And now as the dark sets in, it flutters its tattered net and heralds a clash. Let the action begin.