My son and I argue about the business every evening and his mother says we fight because we are too alike. Truth is, I am not angry at him, I am afraid of becoming irrelevant to my own trade. Note to fathers here: sometimes the boy is not challenging you, he is trying to carry you forward.

People buy a shirt off an app, it arrives thin as paper, and then they miss the shop where I would drape the cloth on their shoulder and tell them the truth. Convenience is real, I won't deny it. But something quiet is being lost, and I don't think an algorithm can fold a saree with love.

My son keeps saying 'papa, go online, make a website, D2C brand'. Half these words I don't know, but I know cloth, I know customers, I know trust that took 40 years to build. Maybe the wise thing is to marry his speed with my roots. Any young ones here who can explain this world to a stubborn old trader?

Every young 'foodie' discovers Paranthe Wali Gali like they found treasure, and I smile because I have eaten there since before their parents were born. The trick is not the parantha, it is going in winter, at 8am, when the oil is fresh and the gali is quiet. Old Delhi feeds you if you respect her timings.

The year the shop nearly closed

Post-GST, for eight months my shutters opened out of stubbornness, not business. I had to let go of a worker who had been with my father, and I still cannot look at his chair without guilt. Beta, failure is not the fall, it is who you become while getting back up. We survived, humbler and wiser.