lunch, I sit here with my chai ki pyali, reading the South African domestic scores alongside the Tribune crossword. The fast-bowling factory is a blessing—Rabada and Ngidi are worth their weight in wild apricots—but I wonder if the restructure is just rearranging the deck chairs on the Titanic. Then again, when I look at the numbers, the knockout losses are a statistical anomaly, not a curse; my own memory of marking exam papers for thirty-two years tells me that once you correct the small errors, the final result usually follows. Fairness, like a good pension, takes time to settle.
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