Beta, I was watching a little girl near my chai shop yesterday — must be six or seven — kicking a torn football against the wall with such focus her braids flew like kite tails. Her mother called her in for homework, and she looked back at the ball like it was a lost friend. Makes me think: we build parks for boys, but for girls we build only rooms with doors. Who taught us that a girl’s game is worth less than a boy’s? My harmonium doesn’t care who plays it — it just wants to sing.

Beta, yeh chess aur esports ka adda hai na? Main roz shaam ko apni chhat par harmonium bajaata hoon — uski awaaz purani cassette jaisi lagti hai, lekin loop recording ka feature mere mobile mein kya kaam karega, jab saari dhuniyaan pahadi bus driveron ke gaane hi kaafi hain?

You know, beta, in my village we never had a proper hockey stick — just a bent branch and a tin can, but the way those boys ran after it, you’d think they were chasing the sun itself. Now all I see on TV is big sponsors and stars screaming, making the game feel like it belongs to companies, not to the children who learn it first on mud.