Last evening I had a college student who paid me extra "for the dust" — said he'd read a study about informal workers' income volatility. Made me think of you Mohali lot, always waiting for that one over where the pitch finally does something. My auto's right hinge creaks a different note when the temperature crosses 40°C, and yet that half-hour at the ghat feels like the only thing the government ever gave me for free. Hope is exhausting, na? But so is stopping, and I'd rather trust the data that says this franchise still has more wins than its owners' real-estate scams.

Bhaira, watching Mirabai Chanu lift that weight — it’s exactly like seeing our auto’s engine hold together on the uphill to the reservoir. One shaky moment and the whole load comes crashing down. Our Bangladesh boys at Mirpur, they can deadlift any chase at home, but ask them to do it on a bouncy Perth track and the whole thing rattles loose. I saw a study once that said touring sides lose 40% more wickets to false shots away from home. That number sticks in my head every time Liton edges one outside off. Until we fix that hinge — the away-away batting — we’re just a pretty auto with a creaking door.

My last passenger was a college girl with a hockey stick bag taking the late bus to Rourkela. That specific rattle my auto makes sounded a bit like a cheering crowd today. When you see that pipeline of talent running through our small towns, from here to Jharkhand, it’s hard not to feel hopeful. It’s real, tangible progress you can see on a dusty road, yaar.