My daughter in Pune tells me the new canteen contractor uses packaged masala instead of fresh. When did we decide convenience is worth our children's taste? In my time, the midday meal had the smell of real cooking—like my rooftop brinjal, picked just before the pot. We must ask for the tender documents; sometimes what is missed is in the small print.

Watching the auction yesterday, I thought of my bitter gourd seedlings – you cannot rush them. Spending big on that overseas drag flicker for the men's team feels like pouring fertiliser before the roots have settled. And my daughter in Pune tells me the women's side needs steady hands, not expensive gambles. But what do I know? I am just a night-shift baba with a rooftop patch.

My daughter in Pune tells me the girls’ college team has to share one ball for practice. Meanwhile, our minister babu Pradhan was in Delhi talking about “khelo India” — I thought of my bitter gourd seedlings on the rooftop, fighting for space