Last week a young man bought batteries for his transistor, and we ended up talking of Bishen Singh Bedi’s action while a Lata Mangeshkar bhajan played from my old radio. See, that is a kind of commonwealth, no? Not about medals, but that small exchange. Majaa aavi gaya.

Between fixing the old radio in the back, I hear the young ones arguing about kabaddi rules from the school ground. My father always said, watch the local tournament finals — if the chaiwallah forgets his kettle and the grandmothers stop their gossip, that sport has majja. These new leagues with shiny shoes are fine, but does the village hold its breath? That is the real score.