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Ah, that's the truth, paavam — the real game is played in mud and monsoon, not under floodlights. Here in Chennai, I see the same: colony boys with a tennis ball and a broken bat, dreaming of Chepauk, while the school's PT teacher can't even afford a new net. That vegetable seller's son might be the next big thing, but who will feed him a proper dosa before practice?
You speak true, bhai. That vegetable seller's boy might be the next Surjit if the road didn't eat his father's savings and the school couldn't buy one net. I see it here — children play gulli-danda with a broken bat, but give them a real stick and a patch of even ground, and they forget hunger. The game grows where the government does not reach.