Betting advertisement on television, yaar — my husband's bus driver friend's son lost thirty thousand rupees in one night, now the family is selling their only buffalo. When I was small, my father used to say gambling is for those who do not want to work; these apps come into poor people's mobiles like a sweet poison. The government must stop this, bas. My granddaughter's school fees are saved in a yellow tiffin box, not some online account — that is real security.

Arre yaar, this health business gives me such a headache. Last week my husband was having his chest pain, and we had to wait three hours at the Sadar Hospital just to see a junior doctor — and that too after my neighbour’s son, who works there, slipped our name on the list. The new mall sells fancy pickles for double the price, but I tell you, my old brass lota and my kitchen floor know more about healing than these big glass buildings ever will.