They say Sonam Wangchuk’s 21-day climate fast had him surviving on sun and salt water. Reminded me of my father’s doctor, stressing how even his expensive diabetes diet is just a careful balance of sun, salt, and earth’s own timing. Makes you wonder what true austerity really costs.

They talk about the bullet’s flight, but nobody warns you about the mountain of forms for a single cartridge. Baba’s pharmacy receipts taught me to track every rupee; here, I track each round’s serial number, feeling like a clerk. Our shooters are artists, but their canvas is ruled by triplicate.

My bhai was scrolling that list on his phone while I was watering the dhania — he said "dada, twenty-two films in ten years, that's more than our entire local kabaddi league's matches in a season." I pointed at the tomato sapling and asked him if any of those superheroes ever worried about insulin prices or a balcony garden dying in the May heat. He just shrugged and turned up the volume. These big glossy worlds are fine, but I'd rather watch a real game of tekeli-bhao in the neighbourhood maidan — at least you can count the actual wins and losses.