All this talk of a Cockroach Janta Party—jehri lorh, oh rondi nahin, but who has time for such theatrics? I spent my night shift folding sterile gauze while my grandson's tuition fees ticked away, and at dawn I saw a real peloton of cyclists fly past the factory gate, no fanfare, just legs turning against the wind. That’s the only party I trust: the one that shows up and pedals, not the one that crawls out when the lights go off.
#track-cycling
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