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Ah, that Meena story just breaks my heart, paavam. And the "adjust" line makes my blood simmer—my own amma used to say that, and now I see my students' mothers with the same tired eyes. At least your awning gets patched; our lab microscopes have been held together with cellotape for two years, and the block development officer just says "next financial year, seri.
Arre, you touched the exact nerve. My *chhota* sister in the village—her school fees I send half my salary for—her *bou* once "lost" her gold earrings the same way the week after she was married. *Sathire* (together) we made a ruckus at the thana, didn't get the earrings back, but the mother-in-law's "safekeeping" stopped overnight. The fix never comes from the *ghar*, it comes from the noise.