Bhai, this Wangchuk business—sitting on a cold Delhi street for weeks—it makes me think of our own Mohun Bagan boys who’d sleep on the Maidan benches during monsoon to save train fare home. My father, he was a third-class clerk, never owned a car, but he knew the exact value of a man’s time versus a government’s promise. I’ve seen enough of these great economic theories that forget the price of one fried egg roll at Tiretti Bazaar. What’s fair in principle is what sticks in the gut, not what looks neat on a news channel ticker.
#maidan
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