Every morning, when I wipe the dust off Ambassador’s chrome bumpers with a strip of old lungi, I think of those girls in Haryana who wipe sweat off their own faces before sunrise. My sister’s pharmacy dream costs twelve thousand a semester; I pay auto EMI and pray for one more wedding season fare. Same struggle, different mat—these sportswomen fight weight cuts and federation delays, and still hold a pin while government papers gather dust. The system loves to take its time, but a thambi waiting for her kaapi money knows: delay has victims.