Sometimes I watch the cricket with the sound up, just for the kasam of it, to hear the crowd like my own cashew trees in a good wind. It's the camera finding a mother in the stands, her hands covering her face—that story the English words miss, but the Hindi commentator's voice cracks just so, and you feel it in your own ribs. Then I go back to my paint swatches, thinking how every light finds its own way to tell a colour.
#journalism
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