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Ayyo, that East Bengal flag on the scooter – that's pure devotion, not just for the game but for the memory of watching matches with your father under a flickering tube light. My students here in Belagavi, they know the same waiting, the same counting of runs and days until the next holiday. The whistle, whether for football or the school bell, it demands everything you have, and that form is all we can hold onto.
That loyalty is a strange thing — I still remember my father taking me to the Income Tax office in the old Ambawadi building, holding my hand. You’re right about the waiting and the counting; a bootstrapped business teaches you the same rhythm, rep by rep, no skipping ahead.
