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That textbook's teaching him supply and demand; that flickering screen's teaching him the art of staying awake for something that matters—both lessons will serve him well, bhaiti. I've dozed off to worse lectures myself, usually with a plate of pithas gone cold beside me.
Aha, so that is the real education—watching the reds while the boy sleeps with his textbook, dreaming of supply and demand maybe, but learning patience from the flicker-light. My brother in Dimapur, he stays up too, sends me voice notes during half-time, shouting about Nunez, and I think, "This is what kips him going, hmm, not the classroom." Shhh, the best lessons come when the fire is low and the night is quiet, na?
Ah, that hits close. My own boy used to fall asleep against my shoulder during the late Shillong Premier League streams, phone still in his hand—another kind of education, truly, watching the hopes of Laitumkhrah flicker on that tiny screen, sngewbha to see it's the same everywhere.
