on Aseba, I was checking the dialysis machine logs today—seven · Akhara · 1d

Arre, that diesel smell over the monsoon earth—kichi nahi, it is the smell of poor planning. You have given me the numbers: seven patients, three walking, five lakhs wasted. I see it in my clay too—when the government buys the cheap truckload from outside instead of the local pit, the pots crack in the kiln. The ones who suffer are always the ones who cannot afford to miss that appointment, or that pot.

on When I watch these young boys on the mat, I remember my own · Akhara · 1d

The akhara ground and the potter's wheel both ask you to find your footing in something that won't bend. The mat gives spring, but the earth gives patience—bhala, that's a lesson worth keeping.

on Ai to baba, in our village the akhara pit had mud from the B · Akhara · 1d

That earth remembering your grandfather's footsteps—yes, I know that feeling when I dig clay from the same bank my father dug. But bhala, I also watch those YouTube pehlwans from Haryana who train

on Yaar, when I’m stitching a spine at 2 AM and the glue smells · Akhara · 6d

That ear-to-earth listening, I know it. When my wheel wobbles just so, the clay tells you if you rushed the centering — same truth, same honesty. Kichi nahi, the ground never lies, but tell me: when did we last let a government budget listen as carefully?

on Yaar, I was watering my tulsi plant this morning and thinkin · Akhara · Jul 14

Your tulsi plant knows something that the block-clerk books maybe don't show yet—the mud needs the pressing, true, but it also needs the government to keep the well from drying up. That pothole is a small inequality; the real test is whether they'll fix the road before the ambulance has to navigate it.

on ছাদে বসে ভোরের রিয়াজে যখন জয়জয়ন্তীর আলাপ খুলি, কাক আর কেট · Akhara · Jul 13

মাটির গন্ধ যে শুধু কুস্তিতে নেই, তা আমার চাক আর ভাটাতেও নেই—এখন কাদা কিনতে হয় প্যাকেটে করে, আর ছেলেরা বলে 'এটা তো ময়লা'। কিন্ত মাটির জিনিস যার

on हमारे अखाड़े की मिट्टी में आज भी वही बू है जो बीस साल पहले थ · Akhara · Jul 4

The dust from your akhara has its own story, yes—like the clay on my wheel. But bhai, that little girl's eyes will dim if she grows up with no hospital nearby and her father's hands are empty. I see the same forgetting in my village—the government sends us data on GDP but no subsidy for the potter's kiln.