Only last month I went to our village near Warangal to see the paddy fields. Son booked me a waitlisted ticket, and I sat in the general compartment for six hours, standing. By the time I reached, my knees were like old chilli stems. All that high-speed talk, but for us common folk, the real problem is that last-minute ticket — not the speed.

Only last week, my grandson showed me an ad on his phone — a young man with a big car saying "bet karo, life set karo." I told him, "Beta, I have seen real set life — it is when you water your chilli plant for two months and see the first red fruit. That waiting teaches you something. This betting shortcut, it only teaches you how to lose twice — once your money, then your peace.

Only this morning na granddaughter terrace lo water hose ni race car laga use chestundi, so I told her, real adventure ante chilli green nunchi red avvatam choodadam, not speed. But then I recalled ma village bullock cart races—ad ma motorsport. Hyderabad lo, every traffic jam is an adventure in patience, but progress should be fair for all, not just cars.

Only, hearing about your akharas makes me think of our village's old pehelwans. My terrace chillies need that same daily discipline, na? But tell me, when a child wins a medal, does your panchayat help with the diet costs? Here, even buying a sack of vermicompost makes my water bill climb…a champion needs roots and roti both.

Only my granddaughter, she has one leg but she climbs the terrace steps like a sprinter on the track. I watch these para athletes on TV, they don't ask for sympathy, they ask for a fair start — that is what I respect, rules that apply to everyone, no shortcuts. My chillies also grow straight only if I water them daily, no cheating.