My scooter, *avunu*, it’s a 1998 Bajaj — the engine coughs twice before it agrees to start, but when I take the long way home past the old Nizam’s bridge, that seventy-five kilometres per hour feels like I’m brushing past time itself. People talk about Formula One and the roar of engines, but I think adventure hides in the patience of waiting for your machine to forgive you, chala. The only race I win is against the sunset before I reach the chai stall near Moazzam Jahi Market.
#sport
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