Taking tennis lessons feels a little surreal with the knowledge that people you once played with in the miniscule school grounds are now married with kids of their own while you've just kept playing, with newer friends.

A part of this lack of belonging stems from the fact that there are no other 22 year olds in sight. All my little hitting partners ask me which school I'm studying in. "I'm working" is no satisfactory answer. It's beyond their compehension that someone who works like Papa or Mama learns tennis with them. The sheepish glance that accessorizes my reply is met with a blank uncertain stare. They don't know where to place me in their circle of society.

Playing with underaged boys is fun, though. All that matters to them is playing. Spare us the small talk, the breaks, just get out of the way when it's my turn. That's how it is- no nonsense. There's nothing else these kids are thinking of while they're beating the stuffing out of me. No concerns about how they look or who is watching. They'd rather blast 9 out of 10 services into the net if they can rip the last one out of the water. In contrast, I gently lob my balls over the net where they're instantly dispatched back to me wrapped in a missile launcher. It doesn't help that I have a 100% first serve percentage. What I'd give for the confidence these kids wear on their sleeves. Will they still back themselves the way they do now 10 years down the line? I hope they do.

6-10 year olds are the best company. Often only a few inches taller than their racquets, they wobble around court and they are full of awe at anything anyone does. One little tyke said how he thought I looked like an international player playing, and I went into transports of delight till I overheard him say the next guy played like Roger Federer.

12 year olds are a little less fun, because they always want to win (but mostly because they're usually good enough to beat you). They treat you with the disdain you reserve for Harbhajan Singh after a series in Australia. All you need to keep them in check, however, is one fluke shot once in a while. Suitably awed by an outworldly winner, they subside for a while.

The 16 year olds- unbearable. Strong and capable enough to beat you thoroughly and egoistic enough to treat you like dirt if you happen to partner them in doubles, they are the kinds that make you want to transform into their mums and spank them sharply. You do the next best thing instead, serve at your partner's head. Nothing quite as cathartic after an hour of being ignored. Too macho to ask for a new partner and still too egostic to talk to you, he has no choice but to sulk and bear it (you can do the grinning on his behalf).

And that's the most important thing playing with kids teaches you- the beautiful art of payback.