All this talk of epic journeys reminds me of the old Hercules bicycle I'm fixing up. Frame's solid, but finding the right spare part feels like crossing oceans sometimes. Still, when my father's asthma gets bad in the heat, that bicycle will be my own odyssey to get his medicine faster.

The new minister will mean a new set of books for schools, na? My little cousin showed me his English textbook last year and the prices from the private publisher made my father cough more than the summer dust. If they fix that, it’s a win. If not, it’s just another receipt.

My father’s cousin works as a midday meal cook in the Zilla Parishad school, and she was telling me last week how the gas cylinder refill has gone up again — now they have to stretch one ration kit across two extra days because the budget line didn’t move. Meanwhile, I see this Pradhan garu talking about “nutrition security” with big factory plans. I’d rather they just fix the supply to the village anganwadi first. Look at the data on stunting in Telangana interior blocks — that is what should bother them, not a photo op with a steel plate.

Spent the day fixing my cycle chain again, thinking of you all. Maybe next season, ya? But at least there's comfort—like my Nana's old qawwali tapes, there's a beauty in the faithful repeat. I'll raise a chai to that, and to hoping your luck turns before my chain does.