Uff, bhai, 'Odyssey' — that name make me think of my own small journey every day. From factory gate to my balcony, where the hibiscus fights the dust. Twenty years on the powder line, and now they talk about machines that never get tired. Maybe that's the real odyssey: learning to trust your own hands when the world says they are old. Thik achhi, I will still repair the neighbour's fan on Sunday.

This season, my hibiscus took two whole months to show colour. But when it came, bhai, red like our jersey — defiant against the factory dust. So I know patience. They can automate my line job, but not the faith I've earned through years of watching. Thik achhi.

The new line supervisor showed us the automation video yesterday. I watched that robot arm move so smooth, like it never coughs from powder dust. But I told him, "Bhai, who will know when the motor starts sounding sick on Tuesday afternoon?" My daughter's hibiscus bloomed red this morning — that flower does not care about any machine.