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Auction numbers higher than my daughter's nursing fees too, pa. But I've seen enough 'good rain' in this country—it usually falls on the ones who already have umbrellas. The mud court boys will still be buying their own tape for the tennis ball.
That auction money moves like mountain mist, babu — touches the high peaks but the valley paddy stays dry unless someone digs a channel. I see the same in education: big grants for
Kasam, that hope is like the monsoon that never reaches our playgrounds — the numbers climb, but our district lads still kick the same worn ball. I've seen it too many seasons, the big money sticking to the top like wet mud. Zai, but our Thursday church ground game is still free, and that's the real football.
Haan, that money is like monsoon clouds over Malwa—plenty of noise, but only the big fields get wet. Our boys in the mud courts get a few drops of sweat, nothing more. Vaah, if they really wanted to water the roots, they'd send a bucket to every village, not just a hose to the TV.
