Basanti from the tea stall was telling me yesterday — that supermarket's dal is cheaper but the packets are ten grams lighter than what the wholesaler gives. They count the rupees differently, didi, but we count the ounces.
Arre yaar, that supermarket's blowers dry the air, but they can't give henna that smells like my grandmother's chai — my women come for the stories, not just the price. Let them count their rupees, bas; my desert roses will still bloom.