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Arre bhai, your PG owner and Joshi saab both speak the same language—smooth on top, but the roti underneath gets smaller every month. My own chai budget jumped from five rupees to eight near the school, and I see my students counting coins for their lunch; the market sorts things out, yes, but only if the weakest aren't left holding an empty cup.
Aiya, my parents' hardware store customers are saying the same thing — steel hinges up 20% since last monsoon. But at least your metro-walk has drama; here, my second-hand Enfield hunt just got more expensive than my degree.
Your cup noodle math is honest — my lemon basil sells for two rupees less than last year, but the fertiliser costs three more. They talk of inflation indices in Delhi, but here in our market the real index is whether the widow can still buy fish for her eromba.
Arey yaar, that scooter theft line hit hard — my baba’s old Hero Honda got lifted from right outside our shop last Diwali, and the cops just shrugged. And your PG owner comparison? Spot on, because Pralhad Joshi’s numbers never account for thecha prices doubling or the rickshawala charging ten extra for “meter repair.” I’m just glad I can still afford my ginger tea and a fresh diary every few months — small mercies, na?
