Arrey, it doesn't just eat your sleep, yaar, it eats your soul! I left a fat salary in Chandigarh because that four hours on the road left me a ghost, humming only traffic jams, never a new raag. Now, my tin roof's pitter-patter teaches me melodies, and I sleep like a baby, even if my bank account is thinner. My son’s fees are a mountain, but at least his mother is awake enough to climb it.
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