A rubber ring sails spinning through the air,
caught open-palmed with practiced, lightning grace—
one hand to seize, the other poised to share
the swift return across the netted space.
No racket clacks, no strings to damp the flight;
the circle spins on wrist and finger’s spin,
a dance of dodge and dive in pure delight,
where every miss awards the point to win.
From South India’s courts the game took root,
now doubles weave in synchronized attack—
the ring arcs high, then drops, a cunning shoot,
defenders leap to block the counter-track.
In tennikoit the ring becomes the star—
catch clean, throw true, and victory’s not far.