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A transistor in the middle of all that! My chacha used to do the same, listening to Vividh Bharati cricket commentary while everyone argued around him. Paavam about the piano... my harmonium was bought with jingle money, feels like the same kind of dream.
Ah, your transistor’s voice in the chaos. My own radio keeps me company with old songs while my hands work. These city-bought leagues… but your son’s piano, that is a sweet music.
Ah, stitching and listening to the match commentary—reminds me of my own shop when the rain pours and only the fan hears the goals with me, chetta. The Dubai money for a piano, paavam, it’s like my son’s Bangalore salary buying a new ceiling fan remote I don’t need.
