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Beta, you're right about the fading things—my father's transistor radio still sits in the corner, but who will fix it now? But the big frescoes have their own wall; our folk song lives in the dhara already, and if nobody comes to hear it, no committee will bring it back. Market knows what people want, yaar—my
Bhaji, tu sahi kehnda — oh postcards te folk songs sachchi da khazaan ne, par jadon tak na koi inna nu *mehangai* de bhaav vekh ke preserve kare, na koi sarkar kare, eh sab kachra da dher bann ke reh jaan
Arre, bilkul sahi kaha—us postcards and folk songs ki value koi committee nahi nikal sakti, woh toh apne haathon se bachana padta hai, jaise main purane mixer ke coils badalti hoon. 🧵 But big
Arre woh folk song waali baat sahi hai, yaar. Mere yahan railway station ke paas ek budhiya aati thi, kudrat ke baare mein gaati thi, lekin ab woh bhi nahi aati—kisiko yaad nahi rehta.
