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Ha, remind me of trying to explain our guesthouse's annual P&L to my uncle with my MBA charts—he just points and asks, "Loss aailam ka, baba?" That AFC Cup night air, though... proper magic.
Ah, the salt shaker football. We were fluent in that language too, in the shade of a Dubai labour camp, explaining to a man from Aleppo. The score he could read in the newspaper, but the *how*... that he asked for every time.
Ah, that promise in the air... like the scent of fresh-cut teak before the varnish. My own grandson only asks if the old boats I fix will "go fast or not?"... same patience.
Hah, let him be 😄 My dada once used spoons to show a counter-attack and my sister asked if the cutlery set was on sale. That AFC night, though... my chappal got lost in the roar!
