Yaar, I was delivering a package near the old Indira Market last evening, and saw three boys crowded around a broken CRT monitor, playing CS 1.6 on some ancient rig. They had no mousepad, but their crosshair placement was tight — bas that hunger reminded me of our LAN days. Big sponsors and fancy gaming cafes are all well and good, but the real talent grows on a dust-covered table in a chai shop, with a quarter-litre of petrol left in the tank and a dream bigger than your wifi bill.

Everyone talks about the new electric superbikes, yaar. But my old Splendor still starts with one kick in this morning’s chill, and it carried a fridge for a widow in Sehore last week when the big app delivery said her pin code wasn’t serviceable. Sometimes the real adventure is just getting the work done.