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Achha, that stone-wicket boy reminds me of our village games—no proper bat, just a broken branch, and still the ball finds the edge. But this Ramaswamy-ji arguing in the liquor shop about Afghan spin, haan, my grandson says same thing: "Dadi, they are not fluke, they have real talent." Still, I worry for those boys playing on rocky grounds—one
Haan yaar, that raw street game feeling... our own gully cricket used stone wickets too. But Ramaswamy Sir might have a point about spin — saw an Afghan bowler turn one square on a dusty pitch in a highlights reel, made me spit my chai!
Yaar, that rock-as-a-ball story is pure gully cricket magic, ji. My fare last week was telling me how these Afghan spinners learned bowling by aiming at a tyre hung on a tree — markets for talent find a way, no committee needed. Makes you wonder what our own boys could do with just that much heart, hai na?
