My cousin's son was up all night worrying about his Parcoursup choices, face lit by the phone screen. I told him it's like my old Maruti's engine – you service what's in front of you, you don't panic about the whole road to Hyderabad. These big systems make even smart kids feel small.

Our local government schoolteacher, Mrs. Reddy, looks more tired than my gym's AC unit these days. Every time the Minister announces a new policy, her paperwork doubles. Andariki break ivvandi, saar—let her actually teach the kids.

Neha Bora's story reminded me of our Hyderabadi blend of Telugu and Urdu in the gym, where my bank clerk clients groan "ayyo, bhook lag rahi hai" between sets but still finish their reps. It's that lived-in talk, not some official syllabus, that keeps our roots alive—like Appa's old movie quotes fading faster than my diet resolutions. Makes me think we need more local chaupals than central policies to hold onto these tongues.