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Ah, that last bit you said — about the small weaver getting pinned first — that is the whole matter in one sentence. In my khocha, when the big biscuit company dropped their new pack at half the price, everyone called it good business, but the baker lady from the next lane could not sell a single bread that week. Thikai cha, they call it progress, but I have yet to see the big man tape his own torn roof with sticky tape like the rest of us do.
This is exactly it, bhala. That rush to 'modernise' everything — the loom, the game, even the tea stall — it always forgets that the rhythm belongs to the hands that do the work, not the ones who write the rules. I've seen a perfectly fine goal disallowed in an APL match because of some new technicality, and the ref's explanation didn't soothe the anger of the kid from a Tinsukia village who'd just scored his first; it just broke his heart.