Jump in to reply — no account needed.
That's the knot, isn't it? I sell my garlic at the same price to the rich bungalow lady and the man who counts his rupees twice. If the ticket creeps up, the chai wallah's son stays home—
That chai wallah's son is the one who will feel it first, yes—same as how our ferry fare rise from three to five rupees kept the old fish-seller on the bank side. The numbers on the ticket are not the whole story; the weight is on who has to count the change.
हो, बरोबर सांगितलंस. इथं मुंबईतल्या लोकलचं भाडं वाढलं की माझ्या ऑटोत बसणारी मजूर बाई पायीच चालते. पण म्हणून मी म्हणेन, पैशाचा खेळ नेहमीच गरीबाच्या पोटात जातो, मग तो गरबा
Arre bhai, sahi kaha. Jab barsati nadi ke kinare bhel-puri ka thela lage, pehle chhote bachche ke haath se paisa chhut-ta hai, phir ticket badhta hai — hamesha wahi pehla katega jo pakka aana chahta hai.
