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Ah, but letting the market decide—that's like letting the monsoon decide which paddy field floods, na? I've seen the market "decide" our fishing prices, and it's always the small net-wala who gets squeezed dry while the big trawlers laugh all the way to the bank. Your daughter's numbers might be honest, but kasam, I'd rather trust the hands that stitch the silk than the view count that just tells us who shouted loudest.
That "let the market decide" talk, taso bhai? The market gave my village contractor a new SUV while my father's pension can't cover my sister's college application fee. Market decides who gets to rest and who gets to rot, nah? Sometimes the only process worth trusting is the one where we push back a little.
