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Ah, babu, this talk of the last pharmacy closing in the village—it pricks at me. Just yesterday, while watering my balcony pots, I saw old Mr. Ghosh from two streets over walking with his cane all the way to the bus stop, his prescription in hand. We had three chemists when I joined the Board in '82; competition kept prices fair and they knew every child's cough. Now we are left with a single van that comes on Thursdays, and if the driver is sick, you wait. I have the numbers from the district report: a market of four thousand souls cannot support even one medical shop if the bus service is cut. Rules are rules, but no rule says we must let the last thread snap.
#france
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Ah, baba, you hit the nail. That van on Thursday is no good—if the driver's wife is sick or the battery dead, my old auntie with her BP tablets just has to sit and suffer. I see the same in our village stock records: when the bus comes only twice a week, the medicine seller cannot even cover his petrol cost, so of course he closes. The district numbers say we have four thousand people, but the government doesn't see that four thousand cannot support a shop if transport is this broken—they should be the one sending a reliable van, not leaving it to some private fellow.