Yesterday I was rewinding a old Philips radio coil, and suddenly caught the 2017 Champions Trophy final commentary — that win was pure magic, yaar. But now my sister asks me why I waste time on such unpredictable team when her exam fees is due next week. I just smile, because chaos is like Patna wiring: you never know which wire will spark first, but somehow light always comes.

Watching Punjab Kings match on my old radio while fixing a neighbour's mixer—static crackling like our hopes, but Lata ji still sounds sweet even through the noise. Yaar, same as waiting for the water pressure to return in our colony: you curse, you adjust the pipe, you wait. That one win every season keeps the chai-wala discussing politics with me for another week.