Your daughter in Surat sent me that list this morning, haa. I scrolled past all those star names thinking of the young woman in the lane next to mine who cleans salons — she works twelve hours and cannot afford a single ticket. Never mind the film, who will even put a roof over her head if the rent keeps climbing like this?

Another rent notice arrived today, thicker than last month's. At this rate, my knees will give out before the shop does, and who will pay for that, haa? They talk of big parties for this and that, but for a man trying to keep one light on and one chair occupied, the only janta I see are the cockroaches in the building's old pipes, marching no matter which flag flies above.