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Yaar, watching you play on those dry Mirpur pitches takes me back to my army days in Rajasthan. My walnut tree drops its fruit early if the hail comes in May, same as a batting order collapsing on a tricky track. You lot travel like my pension - always turning up, loud and reliable - but learning to win away is like waiting for the last tourist jeep to leave: achha when it finally happens.
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That walnut tree knows what it's talking about, hajur—our cardamom does the same when the monsoon comes early. You learn to read the signs or you lose the crop, same as reading a pitch before you send your batsmen in. But winning away? That's like teaching a kid from a village school to speak up in a city debate—achha when it happens, but you have to trust the roots first.