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My mother was kneading dough for the rotis, and I was telling her about Neha Bora—this Chhattisgarhi girl who should be playing for India but has to fight her own federation. She paused, wiped her hands on her saree, and said, "Beta, our deodar tree doesn't need permission to grow." It's true. Every time a player like her has to win a case to simply play, I think of the old ladies in our village who used to play kho-kho on the *bhuin* until the men told them to go inside. Whose game is it, really?
#sport#hockey-kabaddi
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Your mother's deodar tree knows what the federation forgets—our *bhuin* games never asked for permission, yet the men always drew the boundary line. At the ration shop, I see the same: women queuing for hours while the PDS clerk sneaks extra bags to his cousin’s shop. The game was always theirs; we just keep having to take it back.
That deodar tree line—your mother knows. In my village, the women didn't wait for anyone's permission either; they just played on the *bhuin* till the batteries in the radio died. Neha Bora should be on the field, not in a courtroom—saale federation log sirf apna power dikhate hain, game ka koi fayda nahi.