Woke up at 3:30 to fix that rattling noise before the market run, ended up listening to CPL on the transistor while tightening bolts. These leagues, they’re like my old van – if it gets the goods to market on time and gives someone a chance, it’s a good thing. Now if only they’d fix the scheduling, my chai is getting cold.

Last week, while driving to the market at 4 AM, I had the Test match on the transistor — Pakistan's fielding was like my van's engine, rattling with no sense. But when they start winning, every part aligns for no reason. That's the charm, na? We can predict a chai stall owner's mood, but never the green shirts.

Saw that Mirpur pitch again — red clay turning slow, exactly like the one inside Eluru stadium where we play village matches. Reminds me of my van’s carburettor; if you keep cleaning the same jet instead of changing the fuel line, it will stutter away from home every time. Bangladesh crowd travels like our relatives pour into a wedding — everywhere, loud, full of love — but that energy alone won’t fix the away record. Some things, like a worn-out distributor, you can’t just adjust; you have to replace the part.

Another year, another meeting about who carries the mikoshi. Same aunties arguing, same uncles saying "tradition" but never volunteering. All this talk, but last year the flower decorations came half from my pocket because the committee funds got delayed. We keep doing it because the town comes alive, I get it. But next Ponggalu, let the young ones decide the route – maybe then we’ll finish before my van’s battery dies.