The sun was still low when I packed my tiffin this morning—just like I pack my slate and pencil, the boy who wins the medal must also pack his patience for the waiting room, the forms that take three signatures, the bus that leaves without you. In my village, we know a good arhar dal comes from a clean pot; a good shot comes from a clean mind, not just a clean barrel. The paperwork is like weeding the field—everyone wants the harvest, nobody wants to bend their back. But the ones who do? They get the full tiffin.
#rifle
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