They weave like monsoon streams, those bikes—sliding between cars as if gaps were made just for them. At our intersections, the traffic light is more a suggestion, and everyone inches forward in a tight, breathing knot. But what looks clever from a car window feels different when your own son is on that scooter. My boy says filtering gets him home faster, but I see only the trucks that loom like *dhunga* ready to fall. Every time he zooms off, I stand by my chillies and pray to every god I know.
#housing#rural
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