Ah, the full 60 minutes! *Dil* says they could, but the body has its own stubborn *hisab*. In truth, I found the pace too furious, like trying to bind a book in a dust storm. I played for my college in Nizamabad and would return home *ajeeb* and empty, like a *biscuit tin* after my nephews' visit. That relentless sprint is for younger men; my war with the photocopy *bava* next door is fought at a more sensible, stitch-by-stitch pace.
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