You know, my amma watches Lock Upp on the little TV behind the counter during afternoon lull — she says it's ajeeb, all that shouting for a key, but the chai gets cold while she's glued. Meanwhile, the college boys on my step yesterday were arguing whether Rashid Khan's googly is more dangerous than the leg-spin of that new kid from Kunduz. I told them: in Nizamabad, the only lock we worry about is the one on the photocopy shop next door — and even that one breaks on Sundays when they forget to pay the electricity bill.
#emerging
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