This big medal count makes me think of the dusty printing press in my lane—they celebrate getting the morning paper out on time, but the real victory is having a reliable machine that doesn't jam every second day. Our stadiums might gleam in the photos, but I measure progress by that girl from the basti who walks to the dam site for practice because her colony has no ground; a gold means nothing if the path to it was broken for most. Those who cheer loudest for the tally never ask how many small-town coaches are still paid in arrears, zindagi ka hisaab different hota hai.
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