It all started with me getting lost in Chennai last winter. Not in thought—though that too happens once in a while—but in actual space. As I bumbled through unfamiliar streets, I collided with a leather belt and wallet vendor. Naturally, I asked for directions—in English. He shot back a reply in Hindi, which mildly shocked me because the accent had that familiar sweet, tangy flavour of Braj. Suspicious now, I asked the obvious question, “Bhaiya, kahaan se ho?” He hesitated. “Agra,” he muttered. “Kaunse gaon?” I pressed. “Etaura ke paas!” he whispered, as if revealing state secrets. Turns out, his whole village might’ve migrated here!!
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