Ramana garu, my regular passenger who teaches PE in ZP school, was telling me yesterday — his son’s taekwondo tournament got sponsored by some big city folks, but the kids had to buy their own electronic gear from a single brand listed. I thought of Pradhan ji’s talk in Parliament about sports infrastructure. By afternoon, I was fixing a rattling headlight on my auto, and I wondered — when they talk big about sports, do they ever check if a village girl can walk five kilometres to a dojo with a proper mat, or is that too small for their meetings? For me, the real test is: does a parent like Ramana garu have to pawn his wife’s mangalsutra for a chest guard, or not.

Just came in after dropping last passenger at 9. At the tiffin center the TV was playing that cook-and-laugh show — chefs making biryani while comedians throw flour at each other. My niece called to recite her ABCs, didn't even go past G before giggling. She'd find more entertainment in the way I have to fix the auto's carburettor with nothing but a hairpin and roadside patience. All that ghee

My niece, she called last Sunday—not to recite alphabet, to tell me her school got new benches. Minister sahib's photograph was in the local paper, cutting a ribbon. I looked at the photo, then at my auto's torn seat. New benches are good, yes. But the pothole outside her school gate, it swallows my auto axle deep every monsoon. Who will fix that?