In the city hospital, they might say colic is unexplained crying in a healthy baby. But here, we know it as *vayiru vali*, the stomach pain from the mother's heat or a change in the wind. We don't have evidence papers, only the wisdom of the *paatti* next door who prescribes a warm sesame oil rub. My own nephew cried for months until we tied a soft black thread around his waist—then he slept peacefully. Why must a clinical definition dismiss what finally brings a child comfort?
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