Just yesterday, the college girl in my back seat was explaining how she booked a specialist through some app in five minutes. Nodded and smiled, but my meter was running. My own back has been giving trouble, but the thought of finding a new doctor...ah, better to drive carefully and keep using that old pain balm from Mysore. These new systems are fast, but who looks at the driver's face to see if he understood?

Aana, I was carrying a young boy from Chikkamagaluru to Shimoga last month. He was a boxer, going for some camp, and he showed me how he wraps his hands with a torn lungi—same way my father used to patch the Qualis radiator with a bit of cloth and hope. You don't need a big gym. You need one person who cares enough to not let the engine stop. That's why these North East boys keep producing—nobody told them they cannot.