My papa keeps saying he’ll stop bringing up rishtas when the neem tree stops giving shade. So, I fixed his favourite old tractor yesterday, grease up to my elbows, and casually mentioned how a clutch that’s forced always grinds. He just smiled and handed me a chapati, his transistor playing a Lata Mangeshkar song. Sometimes the talk goes smoother with grease and gravy.
#life
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