The other day we visited our daughter’s college for her orientation programme. What had promised to be a mundane affair turned out to be quite something else.

After the presentation on the college and the meeting with Professors and tea, we were ushered into a huge hall which was lined with chairs in a rough circle. We were then told that we would be playing some games to get to know each other better. Everything in me protested at the two words ‘playing games’. Whoa! Hold on a minute! What do you mean ‘playing games’! We never signed up for that! Playing games is for kids, right? My daughter is now grown up and starting college! Isn’t that why we are here for godssake! And I am a menopausal woman with knee pains now. Who’s bright idea was this anyways? I groaned inwardly and looked around desperately for an escape exit but it seems that all doors were sealed and that we were good and properly trapped.

The program co-ordinator began to explain the rules of the game and I had a feeling of starting out on one of those roller coaster rides where you do not know what will happen or how you will react. I began to wonder whether there wasn’t some law to protect innocent citizens into being coerced into doing funny things and generally making fools of themselves. Seems there wasn’t or else we were all dumb sheep meekly submitting ourselves to the tyranny of the ‘games’.

The first game was a version of ‘pass the parcel’ the old birthday party game, except that here the parcel was a bright red balloon which was filled with helium so we had no option but to hold it tight when it came our way and then pass it on. I am the kind of person who does not relish public attention, to put it mildly, so I was quite sure that if the buck (the balloon) stopped with me and all eyes turned to me, I would react like a deer struck still by the headlights of a car. I wouldn’t know what to say or do. The balloon did it’s merry rounds though and stopped at all the right places (if it didn’t stop with me the place was right) and we watched others squirming as the centre of attraction, a nervous middle aged woman, a garrulous teenager, a shy boy and thanked God it wasn’t us.

This game over I breathed a sigh of relief, now we could all wend our ways home sweet home. But, no, my dear, there was more to come. More games, more rules, more directions.
Funnily enough, by now, I had given up my misgivings and got into the groove of things so to say. ‘If you can’t win ‘em join ‘em’ became my philosophy of the moment. I began to appreciate how inhibitions were being shed, how playfulness and cheer was being brought about, and how a sense of camaraderie was being created in us as a group. When it came my turn at the mike I spoke without stuttering or breaking out into a sweat and managed to say all the right things. And whaddya know, I actually won a prize at the end of it!

Now I’m thinking maybe there is something to this ‘playing games’ business after all.

http://neeras.sulekha.com/blog/post/2008/08/playing-games.htm