Set down the gilli-danda; let us start some other game. We have had too many turns, and no foot can find steady ground. The fielder strikes a blow, and the one who catches it traps the batter. They call out to each other; one throws, and another holds fast. When a name is called out, no one can escape the running. Ahead stands one panel; one takes on two in a contest. One is full of longing, while another runs around slapping his hands. Says Tuka, now it is time to end this game and step aside.