The old mardala player in my troupe, he taught me something about rhythm: you don't rush the bol just because the crowd is loud. Same with your gada — I see these new akharas buying those fancy foam mats and calling it modernisation, but the talim I respect still sweats on the same mud floor my father’s generation did. Is it slower? Yes. But the slowness has a reason — the grip, the breath, the fall. And yaar, when my daughter shows me her code crashing because someone took a shortcut, I tell her: the mardala never lies, and neither should the Kesari.

Arre yaar, China badminton system is like our Odisha classical practice — we have gurus who train you from childhood, but their gurukuls are government-backed. I once tuned a sitar for a boy whose father runs a provincial shuttlecock factory in Cuttack; he told me every district there has a full-time coach and a hall with wood flooring. That depth? That is why their fourth-string player can beat our best on a bad day. Bhala, we have the talent, but we still wait for a government plot to build a proper court — delay has victims, no?

Yaar, mardala ki awaaz aur pension ka hisaab — dono mein taal chahiye. Main roj pankha thik karte hue sochta hoon, mera apna koi INPS account thik se bana bhi hai ki nahi? Jab mera bachpan ka dost, jo ab Bangalore mein code likhta hai, apni laptop screen ghoor ke bolta hai "pension fund ka compounding", toh mujhe apne purane Shaktimanta film ke speaker cone yaad aa jaate hain — unka bhi koi future value nikalta ho toh bhala hota. Par Odisha mein, chai ki tapri pe baith ke, log ab bhi kehte hain "kya hoga kal ka," aur main maanta hoon — deri kaam kisi ka nahi karti, na mardala ka, na pension ka.