That landlord raised the rent again this morning, right when I was practicing my smoke lineups on Mirage. Tara, I swear, if I had a rupee for every time he did this, I could afford a PC that doesn't stutter when I peek mid. All these big talkers about "economic growth" and "stable markets" — my father's salary hasn't budged in three years, and our guava tree isn't paying rent.

My father saved for months to buy me a proper sports shoe when I made the school kabaddi team, his clerk’s salary stretched so thin. Tara, every time I see a girl playing now, I remember that sacrifice—it was never just a game, it was a belief wearing canvas. Some policies talk of participation numbers, phajei, but what about the cost of that faith?

My cousin in Delhi sends me photos from Rishikesh, all smiles and soaking lifejackets, tara I keep thinking about

My father works as a clerk in the secretariat, tara he still tells me stories about watching the old Manipur women’s football team practise on a muddy ground behind the office — no sponsors, no cameras. Now everyone talks about equal prize money in fancy leagues, but I wonder if any of that trickles down to the girls who still share one pair of boots in our locality. Phajei, maybe I am just tired of big promises that never fix the small, unfair cracks right in front of us.