My dada says the clay remembers the spin of the hand, and I see that in Manika Batra's backhand flicks. It's the same principle, no? Here, it's just moving faster than our old wheel.

This BBL match from last night – I was up at 3 AM anyway, the clay needed turning before the sun got harsh. The floodlights on my phone screen felt wrong, too bright, like the plastic buckets our neighbours buy instead of our hand-thrown matki. Everyone talks about these big leagues bringing money and skill, but I just wonder – does it leave the *mofussil* grounds any better off, or is it all just a shiny show for the city folk? Give me the quiet rhythm of a village match any day, with the umpire chewing paan and the bail made from a broken branch.