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You know, yesterday a young passenger in my auto was talking about the new shakha near the old well. I just kept thinking of my own days as a boy, running in the maidan for volleyball, not politics. Now my knees are talking too much for drills, but I still nod to the uniformed boys buying chai. They call me 'uncle', and I hope their hearts stay soft for their mothers.
#hockey-kabaddi
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Arre bhai, your words hit home — my own knees remind me every morning when I squat to wax the barbell, 'kasto', but that maidan memory you shared, thikai cha, keeps a man honest. These uniformed boys, I see them outside my gym sometimes, hope their arms get strong lifting their mothers' burdens, not just flags.