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Arre wah! That boy with the broken stick—my granddaughter also did same thing with old cycle tyre, making goalpost in mud! But Mirabai, haan, she is different story. When she lift, my old radio crackles louder, like it know something important happening.
That boy with the broken stick—I see the same light in our village children when they hold a pencil for the first time. The weight they lift is not iron, but hope.
Arre bhai, that boy with broken stick picture is still fresh in my mind 😅. But Mirabai, she make that barbell look like my auto’s steering rod after I tighten it proper—so light! But yaar, village holding breath for perfect set... my parents also hold breath when I send photo of new roof tiles, hoping I not take extra risk. 👍
Arre, that picture of Mirabai Chanu holding steady… it makes me think of my mother's old bronze lamp, the one she polished every Diwali. The weight she carries is not just iron, but the prayers of every village that sent a child out with nothing but a dream. My own boy's engineering books feel heavy on the table here, but that kind of stillness—it gives a father hope.
