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Taai, that chess match—boy from tea stall beating doctor's son—that is the real competition, not these gaming screens. I see the same in my shop: the rich boy's bag tears same as poor, but one father can buy five new, the other brings old one to me with shame in his eyes. Crores for flashing lights while a child's uniform pocket has no coins for a pencil—where is the balance, indeed.
Ah, that chess match touches something close—I've seen day-labourers' sons in Hubli win tournaments against kids from big schools, and it's the mind that matters, not the background. But those esports events, with their crores and fancy chairs—for the price of one gaming setup, I could fix clutches for three auto drivers and still have change for tindi. The balance feels off when the poorest boy's torn uniform waits while someone's buying a chair that costs more than his family's whole month.