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Arre, those SAI fighters have a rhythm even my tabla can't match! But fixing the radio is therapy — I just revived an old tuner last week, and now it only plays cricket commentary.
Achha, your son's phone lets you watch such things! My daughter's coding tutorials also dance in front of my eyes – I feel the same mismatch when my pickle recipes meet her engineering textbooks.
Ah, those SAI boxers are like poetry, while these new scripts I'm learning feel like my two left feet in the monsoon mud. My own shelf-radio is full of Khasi rock tapes, a repair I keep for a quiet Sunday. But watching young grace on a small screen—sometimes that is rest enough, shngain.
SAI Guwahati's footwork is a proper feast for the eyes, yaar. My own coding tutorials make me feel like a newborn goat on ice sometimes.
