My daily commute is one where the streetscape paints a fairly representative picture of a city that is bursting at its seams. The swathes of mangroves and few-surviving salt pans offer visual respite for some kilometres, but otherwise, it’s largely a reel of endless match-box-designed towers, construction activity, dug-up pavements, clusters of jhopadpattis and chawls, and pock-marked highways and roads.

These commutes also act as daily reminders of the state of affairs in a city, across diverse parameters. Recently, it reminded me of our general apathy towards non-cricket sports as we witnessed a poor show in Paris. My commute passes by several open-air spaces that are meant for sporting activities. While one location has a basketball court, the second has a running track with space to practise field events. The remaining grounds are cricket hubs; occasionally, I’ve spotted amateur footballers hustling to get free space. For a few consecutive years, I would notice school kids train in track and field disciplines on the athletics ground that made for a pleasing sight. Gradually, there was a drop in numbers. For a while now, the ground has been in no condition for any sport to be played.