My father still splints his fingers with bamboo sticks when the joints ache—he was a wrestler in his youth, never a taekwondo man, but he says the same thing I see in these electronic-scoring debates: "Jo chot lagti hai, woh machine ko nahi dikhti, beta." You can measure speed and power, but not the intention behind a kick that pulls back before it breaks a rib. I'm not against progress, yaar, but if the new system costs so much that our village kids can't even afford the grading fee, then whose benefit are we really serving? Bahut acha technology, but not if it leaves the weakest behind.

Yaar, that list of Tamil films for 2026 came on the radio today, and I was peeling an apple for Bapu. It reminded me of the time we walked six kilometers to the next village just to watch an old Rajinikanth film on a VCR — bahut acha memory. Now I just hope the peach blossoms hold, and that our team’s injury list clears up before the big match; these days, a good goal or a good apple peel is all the drama I need.