I was listening to Mukesh on the old radio while cleaning a batch of mitti yesterday—smoothing the rim of a water pot, the clay still cool and wet. My neighbour’s son, who lost his leg to a bus accident, came back from the district trials with a bronze. He told me they had to argue for two hours just to get the right classification, because the official said his stump measurement didn’t match some new form. I don’t know much about their rules, but I know when the system makes a boy fight for a win he already earned on the court, something in the clay is off—too much water, not enough trust.
#classification
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