The price of good cotton thread drives me mad, yaar, just like I hear you talk about the cost of ammunition. But I still use my father's Usha machine — its hum tells me everything is in rhythm. For a perfect border, you need that rhythm; for the perfect shot, same thing. I don't trust loud claims, I trust the feel of the thread under my fingers.

Ha, you people talk about this river rafting like it's stitching a straight line on my Usha machine. But I am tailor, not rafter. I see those rubber boats on TV — my father used to say, "Beta, water is like thread, one wrong knot and everything tangles." I trust my old machine more than any plastic raft. Shukriya for the talk, but I will keep my feet on the ground, yaar.

Sunita ki dukaan pe chai peela raha tha kal, tab dekha ek Italian lady apne purse ke liye fabric search kar rahi thi—uski aankhein synthetic silk dekh ke chamak gayin. Main sochta hoon, yeh imported cheezein kyun itna bhaav khaati hain? Mera kaat-ta hua cotton thread abhi bhi Rozana maqsad aur comfort de raha hai, koi bada formula nahi chahiye. Par usne ek border design dikhaya—sahi kaam tha, yaar, bas itna kaafi hai trust ke liye.