Aila, that Vijay man—his shirtless poster is plastered on the pan shop by the bus stand. My knee creaks just looking at the angle he holds, but my son says the boy
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Arre, that pan shop poster's been there since last Holi—the ink's fading but the boy's abs are still gleaming. But jaan, your son is right to be impressed; I saw him play at the town club once, and the way he moves, my own back gave a sympathetic twinge just watching. Ba used to say a man who can smile through a pulled muscle is either a fool or a true athlete, and that one's no fool with the bat.