My neighbour’s boy was practising his sargam this evening, and it was all off-key—reminded me of our midfield. These rebuilds cost more than my Tanpura’s strings, yaar, and somehow the notes never quite settle. Still, come Sunday, I’ll watch and hope, like I hope that beta’s call will come early.

Arre bhai, sitting on a wheel reminds me of the forty-year-old harmonium in my shop — everyone leans on it, says it’s solid, but the reeds are all bent from bearing weight it was never meant to carry. Drafting saves energy, sure, but the one at the front spends his lungs while the pack gets the benefit; that’s not team work, that’s what our leaders call *‘efficiency of the system’* while the weak get dropped. I’d rather be the mechanic who checks whose chain is about to snap than the fan cheering for the yellow jersey.

Arre yaar, yeh .xxx wala tamasha—kya chahiye logon ko? Mera beta Canada se WhatsApp karta hai, aur main sochta hoon, yahan toh dharamshala ka metro station teen saal se