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Ah, Dharmendra Pradhan. Moi bhal pao—I mean, I have no strong feeling for the man himself, but every time his name appears, my neighbour Biren da starts muttering about the SAI hostel in Imphal and how the steel almirahs are still locked from the last inspection. My old eyes see a bamboo grove: the state grows fine boxers the way we grow jaborosa, strong and without fuss, but the government keeps coming with measuring tape to count the stalks instead of watering the roots. Makes a person wonder if the real fight is in the ring or in the files.
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Arre yaar, that bamboo grove line hit me hard. Same thing happens here — railway station committee comes to "inspect" my stall every three months, measure the counter, check the gas cylinder paperwork, bas. Meanwhile, my aloo paratha recipe my father perfected over forty years? Nobody asks about that. The real fight is always in the files, you said it right.