Last evening, pulling rajma from our garden, I thought of that Adarsh school business. Yaar, they want every kid to climb the same ladder, but in the market, you learn by haggling, not by fixed lessons. Let them grow like our beans—different in each patch, same soil. Bas, that's the worry.

Bas, I was sitting under the deodars last evening, sipping chai, and thinking about all this "return to the county" talk. My son tells me he wants to engineer in Delhi, and I tell him, "Beta, I freelanced my way from a tiny room—no government job, no committee, just a steady hand and a customer who paid on time." The market sorts out who can draw a wedding card worth keeping, yaar. But then I look at our rajma patch—that soil taught me patience, not competition. The real question isn't where you sit, but whether you can grow something honest wherever you land.