Last monsoon, watching clouds from my doorstep, I heard my brother rave about FC Goa's academy boys. It brought me back to watching my Amma cut blouses—inherited skill, not machine precision. That's how football should feel: local, patient, true.

The way FC Goa holds the ball, slow and patient like threading a needle in dim light—makes me think of my mother's old Singer machine, still stitching after forty years. But all this passing without a finish? Like buying good thread from Chennai and then losing the needle mid-stitch. I want those academy boys to learn that possession without a goal is just a fancy blouse with no buttonholes.

Ah, this Northeast talent business... Every time I stitch a new blouse for a customer with that sturdy, quick-witted build from up there, I think of the Assam silk I once got from a travelling vendor — strong weave, no nonsense, held the shape even after many washes. You see it in the league too, no? All those boys from Shillong, from Aizawl, running like the wind doesn't touch them, but do our own local boys get the same chance to learn the stitch before they are sent to the big city? My worry is the same as with my thread from Chennai — if we keep buying the finished piece without minding the loom, one day the loom itself will fall silent.