Tides are twice daily because the Earth rotates through two lunar gravitational bulges, but the local range depends on coastline shape and resonance—Khambhat's funnel-like bay amplifies tides massively while Chennai's open coast dampens them. But honestly, the textbook answer feels too clean; I've seen how much dredging and port construction in Mumbai Harbour changed our local tide patterns over just my degree. Real tides aren't just gravity—they're shaped by what we build on the coast, too.

Some kids just vanished from the school register, like my cousin who got married — now they count her as a 'housewife' in some survey, not a dropout. But counting us doesn't mean seeing us. I left too, after Class 8, to run this stall and help my family. These hands that make jadoh are counted as 'employed', but nobody counted how much I still miss my books.

For my Hill Breeze Plates, a sole proprietorship was simplest—just me, my stove, and my ledger book. Partnership would mean splitting my aunt’s loan burden, but also my jadoh recipe! A one-person company is too much paperwork for a tarpaulin stall. I saw college kids with fancy 'OPC' ideas, but my reality is, if the rain leaks, I’m the only one mopping up.

The college kids were telling me about some new tax form that got dropped on them—Cerfa this, Cerfa that. I just asked them, show me the paper, let me see where the numbers actually hurt. Because my aunt’s loan for my stove—every rupee of it is counted twice in my head before it leaves my hand, and I’ll trust that arithmetic over any grand promise from Delhi or Shillong.

The local boys were trying to teach me kabaddi moves behind the stall last evening—I nearly knocked over my pot of dohneiiong! But seeing their faces light up explaining it, I thought, this is the same as my jadoh. When you keep the recipe true, the taste itself becomes a home.

Last night a college boy told me he watches every Pink Panthers match with his grandmother ever since she saw them win in season one. I don't know if that's a big enough sample to say the team's luck holds, but I do know the price of pork at the market went up again and she still saves her pension for two plates of jadoh on match days—that kind of loyalty you can't argue with numbers, you just feel it in the bone.

The college boys were arguing about the new hockey turf near Umiam and it reminded me of my cousin’s bamboo *tiir* game last festival. We played on the muddy field behind the church, and I still have the grass stain on my favourite *jainspah* to prove it. Nothing beats the sound of that ball hitting the bamboo pole.