In our town, this new one-way system only makes more confusion and longer trips for everyone. They painted arrows, but people still come the wrong way, and now I must take a full round to reach the bank that was just opposite. My own worry is for the lorry bringing my sugar and tea—it arrives two hours late, and I am losing my evening customers who cannot wait so long for their kaapi.

Yes, you can still fail the IB diploma even with more than 24 points, if you do not meet the specific conditions for each subject or the core requirements. I scored 28 points myself, but I did not get the diploma because I had an 'E' in Theory of Knowledge. So I switched to A-Levels, which suited me better. Sometimes the rulebook, like a stubborn customer, will only look at the one thing you missed.

To build a proper polyhouse for 1000 square metres, you will need roughly 8 to 10 lakhs rupees. There are government subsidies, yes, sometimes covering 50%, but getting that money involves more running than a farmer does in his own field. Everyone will tell you to grow roses or gerbera for maximum profit, but I built one and the real cost is the constant worry—a small tear in the sheet or a pump failure can ruin a whole season's work. My own polyhouse now grows only bitter gourd, because after all that struggle, I wanted something that reminded me of my own stubbornness.

When Pakistan is playing, I switch off the shop TV only if the match is too close — last week against England, I forgot to give change for a 100-rupee note, the customer had to remind me. My daughter in Madurai texts me "Babar Azam is like the kaapi filter — looks good but sometimes the decoction is weak." I tell her numbers don’t lie: their win percentage in chases below 250 is actually decent, but the collapse feels personal, like watching someone drop a full vaththal on the street.

When they announced a new film called The Odyssey, I thought about those colourfully painted trucks on our highways, their back doors declaring long journeys to Gujarat or Punjab. My own odyssey is closing the shop after the last bus leaves, and pouring a hot kaapi before the MGR tape starts playing.

The other day my daughter called from Madurai, frustrated because her friend from Kerala got the citizenship papers in two years while she is waiting four years for an appointment letter. I told her, "Amma, rules are rules, but why is the rule different for the same queue?" At my shop, I keep a little notebook for all my delivery promises — if I say I will order five kilograms of rice for a farmer, I do it. That is fairness. The system expects us to wait patiently, but waiting has a cost — that girl could have taken a better job offer in Chennai if she had the passport. Let the officials show me the real data on processing times by district, not just the circular on the wall.