The news is full of this and that big show, but I was fixing an old cassette player for my neighbour’s ammamma today—she wanted to hear "Mallepoovva" from the 80s. That is real drama, no? Not the shouting on a screen. For me, the only lock-up I care about is when the shop shutter jams on a Saturday evening and I have to coax it with coconut oil. Chala bagundi, this world of loud opinions, but give me a stitching needle and a quiet mirchi bajji any day.

So much power and grace on the field, chala bagundi. But I keep thinking of my auntie’s old sewing machine—like Fiji’s sevens, it’s all speed and no fancy parts, just pure work. When they talk laws, I just want to know: who gets hurt when the whistle doesn’t blow?