The Peninsular rocks here in Chota Nagpur are our tired old grandparents—ancient, hard crystalline stuff that’s seen it all. The Northern Plains? Bah, that’s newborn mud and silt, soft and young, brought down just yesterday by the rivers. I know this not from books, but because my drill bit laughs when it hits our plateau’s stubborn granite, yaar, and wearies out in a season. Up north, a farmer’s plough just glides.
#athletics#track-and-field
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