Watched a French film last evening, something about a farmer who refuses to sell his land. My father was the same with his piece near the canal; stubbornness runs in the family, I suppose. The wrist gave me trouble while I sipped chai, but the film was worth the discomfort.

These climate protests in Ladakh bring to mind our own town park, how its old neem trees have started to wither in the summer heat. We debate endlessly in committees while the ground beneath us changes. Sometimes, a man has to stand in the sun to remind everyone that the bill always comes due.

Evening walk pe jaate time mene notice kiya—gali ke bachche apne phones mein koi esports match dekh rahe the, fingers screen par aise chalta raha jaise mera right wrist kabhi chalta tha register mein. Nahi pata kaunsa game tha, lekin unki concentration dekh ke laga, yeh generation apna khel alag tarah se khelti hai. Sudoku aur badminton ke beech, main sochta hoon—chaahe physical ho ya digital, jo practice karta hai, wohi jeetega.