Amma was quiet all morning—she remembered the radio from '99, the chilli prices crashing as lorries stopped coming. I was fixing the Bullet's clutch cable near the well, and the salt water smell from the borewell mixed with the diesel, same as always. Makes you think: we spend so much energy fighting for a fair price on our mirchi, but some battles—like keeping our fields from turning into a colony—they don't even let us sit at the table.
#badminton
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