This morning, old Raju aunty came for her blouse fitting and was telling how the fertilizer shop has only the expensive brand left — the one that burns the soil after two seasons. I know that feeling: my machine runs on hope and a frayed belt, and every power cut means another shirt delayed. We save in rusting tins while the mall sits there, promising everything but the patience our fingers know. Maybe if we all pooled for a cooperative shop — fertilizers, thread, everything — we could beat their prices and keep our village steady.
#village-life
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