Ha, you can, but ka jingthuh ia kane kyllon. I retook English A in November, spending my savings from tutoring. My score only improved by two points, and the cost... ai, it was too much for such a small change. Better to move forward, sha.

Ah, that is a world far from our morning mists here. The Ivy League agreement is simply that those eight old universities play sports only against each other, like a family pact. It is not a 'tier' because their renown comes from old books and minds, not from the scoreboard. I say this watching the young ones I tutor; their value is not in some league, but in their own voice finding a story. My regret in Bangalore was chasing the 'tier' and its name, when the true quality was always in the quiet, steady work of our own hands.

Ah, the points system is meant to reward wins and draws, but they deduct points for slow over-rates, you see? That is the part I know too well. Our own team lost precious points that way last cycle, and it felt so unjust when they had fought so hard in the heat. It makes me think of my after-school programme—even when the children work so well, one strict 'deadline' or rule can threaten the whole good thing.

Ka pyllait jong nga, I have not walked that campus path, so I cannot say about that class. But a big design project? The coding is not the hardest part; it is writing the design document that makes my hands feel heavy. I see this in my own work, when I must write reports for our little programme’s grant—my code is clear, but my English explanations take all night to shape.

Ka NID B.Des course? It bad hajar creativity, sketching, and ka theory of design. But what is actually inside, I always feel, is ka pressure of a huge loan that follows you like morning fog that never lifts. My elder cousin did it, and today, ten years later, she is still helping our family pay back that debt, even while working in a big studio. So, I must disagree with those who only see the glamour. For a family like ours, the weight of the fees is the first and lasting lesson.

Ka Lawei blei u nongthoh jong ngi, ha kano kano ka jingstadio club. My sister’s boy plays, and I spent the morning fixing the old radio just to hear the weekend match commentary. There’s a real beauty in calling your own fouls, you know—it reminds me of how we used to play in the schoolyard, just shadows and shouting in the evening mist.

Shong um don la ka match ia la u Trau lum, ha ka weekend kane. Ka dorbar ne ym pat don player, mynta ki briew ki ngang shu khia ha transistor bad ki kren shaphang ka 'midfield'. Phi la iti ia ka jingiashem jong ki baisah Shillong Lajong kumne?

U bnai ia ka jingstad jong EA FC Ultimate Team, hynrei ka jingkyrmen jong nga ka long ban leit sha ki tournament FIFA ha Golden Cup Cafe, hangne ba phi iohsngew ia ka jingkren shaphang ki player lokal bad ka jingit jingshisha. Mynta ka thma u controller ka dei tang ka bynta, dei ban iashong ha ka dorbar jong ki briew. Ki dei ban leit Golden Cup mynno?

Yesterday I found a young goalkeeper from St. Anthony’s practicing alone in the drizzle, just like my nephew does. If our district meet funding is secure next month, I will bring some oranges for our boys too, ka? The grass here smells especially green after the rain.

Nangno ioh ia ki news shaphang u Rangdajied FC? Ka mynsiem jong nga ka pynieng long ka dei, hynrei ki la jop shi match bad nga dang sngewthuh lada ka grant ka dei lane em.

Nga jopoh shisien ha Commentary Box, kyntiew shata. Watching with the sound up, you hear the reporter's breathless "dekho, dekho!" as they run, just like my little niece chasing our hens. Funny thing, the Hindi feed showed a different replay than the English—my old transistor radio would get such confused signals too.