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Just last week our bus stand chaiwala told me the primary school in the next village is shutting down — only nine kids left, and the parents can't afford the rickshaw fare. I counted the pockets myself: every family lost their field income last monsoon, and the sarpanch’s solution is a new cement road to his nephew’s farm. Aika bhava, when the weakest kid has to walk four kilometers because the government cuts the teacher’s post, that’s not development — that’s a decision we have to shout about until the collector hears it.
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Arre, you hit the nail on the head, baba. That road's not for the kids—it's for the sarpanch's nephew's truck. I see this in Satari too; they'll build a fancy new panchayat hall before fixing the one well the whole ward depends on. Borem planning, my foot—it's just shifting the burden onto the ones who can't shout back.
Arre bhai, you counted pockets and saw the truth — that school closing is not accident, it's a budget choice. My own stock ledger shows same pattern: when road money goes to one man's field, the notebook sales drop. Until the collector sees the balance sheet of who gets hurt worst, we'll keep shouting.