#street vendors in india

[tigoonacom]

Empowering Women Street Vendors: Catalyzing Change in India.

In the bustling streets of India's urban landscapes, street vendors form a vibrant and essential part of the socio-economic fabric. Among these resilient individuals, women street vendors stand out for their remarkable ability to balance multiple responsibilities while contributing significantly to their families and local communities. Yet, they confront distinctive challenges that hinder their growth and economic empowerment. This blog delves into the array of solutions designed to provide support and empowerment to women street vendors in India, especially during times of adversity such as the COVID-19 pandemic.

Supporting Street Vendors Across India:

Often referred to as push cart vendors, these street vendors bridge the gap between local producers and consumers, offering an eclectic array of products ranging from fresh produce to handcrafted goods. Recognizing their pivotal role, various initiatives have been launched to extend a helping hand to street vendors throughout India.

The challenges faced by street vendors were significantly amplified during the COVID-19 pandemic. The imposition of lockdowns and restrictions led to a drastic reduction in foot traffic, severely impacting their income. In response, governmental bodies and non-governmental organizations collaboratively devised relief measures, extending financial aid and essential sustenance to help street vendors endure the turbulent times.

2. Empowerment Strategies for Women Street Vendors:

Women street vendors navigate an even more intricate labyrinth, grappling with societal norms, safety concerns, and limited access to resources. To foster their empowerment, a multi-pronged approach is necessary, one that aptly addresses their distinctive needs and barriers.

Equipping women street vendors with tailored skill development and training programs emerges as a potent solution. By honing their business acumen, financial literacy, and marketing prowess, women vendors can bolster their capacity to manage and expand their enterprises, effectively competing in the market.

Creating an enabling environment for women street vendors involves establishing dedicated vending zones that prioritize their safety and well-being. These zones, thoughtfully equipped with adequate lighting, sanitation amenities, and security provisions, address pivotal safety concerns and encourage active participation among women vendors.

3. Unleashing Technology's Potential:

In an era increasingly defined by digital prowess, technology emerges as a formidable ally for women street vendors. Leveraging digital platforms and mobile applications enables these vendors to not only showcase their products online but also tap into a broader customer base, cultivating a virtual presence even amid the challenges presented by the COVID-19 pandemic.

Moreover, technology extends its hand towards financial inclusion. Granting women street vendors access to digital payment systems and microloans not only empowers them economically but also curtails their reliance on cash transactions, fortifying their financial resilience.

4. Raising Awareness and Advocacy:

Shining a spotlight on the invaluable contributions of women street vendors is pivotal to galvanizing public support and recognition. Strategic advocacy campaigns shine a light on the challenges these vendors surmount, underscoring the significance of fostering an ecosystem conducive to their growth.

Engagement with local authorities and stakeholders emerges as a potent strategy to shape policies and regulations that nurture the expansion of women street vendors' enterprises. By involving women street vendors in decision-making processes, their voices gain prominence, and their concerns find effective redressal.

Women street vendors in India epitomize resilience and determination, serving as linchpins for their families and local economies. Elevating their stature demands a comprehensive approach that encompasses skill development, resource accessibility, technology integration, and fervent advocacy. By translating these solutions into action and fostering a nurturing environment, we can uplift women street vendors, laying the foundation for their economic ascendancy and profound social inclusion. As the journey continues amidst challenges like the ongoing pandemic, these solutions stand as guiding lights, steering the prosperity and well-being of women street vendors across India.

[viagginterstellari]

Trading - Orissa, 2023

[johbeil]

Street vendor 

New Delhi, India. Leica R4 with 50 mm Summilux on Ilford HP5+ B&W film.

[emmaklee]

water seller, India

[JanJungerius / flickr]

[udayesque]

Sabzi mandi , har friday ki kahani

[genderequalitys]

Prioritizing Frontline Health Workforces: Upfront Global's Innovative Well-Being Solutions

Discover Upfront Global's groundbreaking approach to solution for Front line health workforces. Our well-being solutions are meticulously designed to address the unique challenges faced by those on the front lines of healthcare. With a deep understanding of the demands and pressures inherent in these roles, we offer comprehensive support systems tailored to enhance the physical, mental, and emotional well-being of frontline workers. Through innovative programs and resources, we aim to alleviate stress, prevent burnout, and promote resilience among healthcare professionals. At Upfront Global, we recognize the vital importance of caring for those who care for others, and our initiatives reflect our unwavering commitment to supporting frontline health workforces in their critical roles. To Read more:

[theancienttimesnews]

"High Court Directive Sparks Action: All-India Street Vendors' Trust Gears Up for Key Meeting on Street Vendor Licenses"

The All-India Street Vendors’ Public and Charitable Trust has called for a crucial meeting scheduled for 12:30 pm on February 4th at Jayanagar Shopping Complex, 4th Block, Bengaluru. This gathering aims to deliberate on the subsequent actions following a recent high court directive instructing authorities to process applications from trust members seeking street vendor licenses. The high court,…

[thissidekhushi]

Tigoona is a design-led initiative to help improve the quality of life and earning potential of street entrepreneurs and refresh last-mile connectivity by giving better mobility, better visibility & better retailing standards. Tigoona is a Solution for Street Vendors. Click on https://www.tigoona.com/helping-street-vendors-india

[littlestpersimmon]

Everytime people see other people's unfortunate circumstances, someone always says "this is a reminder to be grateful for what you have" ...... it pisses me off so bad, saw this when random tourists were filming street vendors in India and some British guy said "wow I'm so lucky I don't live in the poor area", it happened to ME when I was talking about how there are no accessible libraries in the Philippines, and this girl said "wow thank you for sharing, I'm so much more grateful I don't live in such a place" and now I see it again with this woman who was living in a very cramped apartment with her children, some other woman said "this is a beautiful reminder to be grateful of what you have" like holy shit do people literally have just have 0 tact. How dehumanizing it is to be constantly treated like your perpetual misery in poverty is like a learning lesson for other people, no cuz how do so many people see other people needing help and their first thought is to say "I don't want to end up like you."

[ichorai]

i was just a kid ; marc spector.

track one of BROKEN MACHINE.

pairing ; marc spector x vigilante!gn!reader

synopsis ; khonshu wanted you dead. marc just wanted you.

words ; 6.6k

themes ; action, mild angst/fluff, vigilante au, thief au

warnings / includes ; blood/injury, cursing, mentions of human trafficking/sexual assault but not at all graphic, marc is basically chasing after reader for half the fic, we're traveling the world in this fic baby !!! khonshu being Annoying, reader doesn't know marc has DID and thinks he's crazy, a steven cameo !! and one (1) mention of spider-man and daredevil <3

main masterlist.

NEW DELHI, INDIA.

The street market was crowded, bustling with chatty tourists, loud salesmen, and traveling vendors. The air was heavy with the sweet, saccharine smell of fresh mangoes, intertwined with the faintest trace of turmeric, ginger and garam masala from other stalls you hurriedly passed by. You would’ve given anything to stop and try some of the food, if not for the terrifying white-suited fucker hunting you down.

The bleeding cut on your cheek he’d given you from when he threw his crescent-shaped boomerang in your direction throbbed. You’d barely been able to duck away in time. At least here, in the busy street, he couldn’t risk hurting anyone else by striking you long-range. 

At least, you hoped so. You weren’t entirely sure how far this bastard was willing to go to get you. Sure, you’d made a lot of enemies in the past, but, to your recollection, you’d never met any moon-caped supers keen on taking your life before.

You were quick to duck through the tight-knit throng, panic setting in when you realized the market was thinning away—you were near the end of the street, and you no longer had the advantage of cover on your side. 

With agile steps, you sprinted into an alleyway, glancing up the side of an apartment.

Then, you began to climb. You scaled the small grooves in the bricks, expertly balancing your weight just right so you wouldn’t fall. You’d done this a million times before, with much smoother surfaces to climb—after all, that was the bare minimum required of a thief. 

You hauled yourself onto the rooftop, laying low so he wouldn’t be able to spot you from ground level. 

Only—he wasn’t on ground level.

A shadow loomed over you just as you crouched by the rusted air conditioning unit, and you had but a millisecond to roll out of the way before his foot came crashing clean through the metal.

Well, fuck me, he can fly, you wryly thought. 

“Glide!” the man behind the mask gruffed as he grabbed your arm and shoved you against the crumpled AC unit, the searing hot metal digging painfully into your skin. “I glide, I don’t fly!”

“I said that out loud?” you panted with a hoarse chuckle, before quickly twisting and kicking his knee, brandishing a sharp dagger from the utility belt loosely secured around your hips. Up close, his suit appeared to be fashioned from a multitude of bandages, not unlike the cheap mummies from old nineties halloween movies. “Sorry, would it be weird for me to ask why a toilet paper cosplayer is trying to murder me?”

The man offered you no response, only diving forward and landing a good punch to one side of your jaw, which made your vision go blurry with disorientation for a moment. 

There was no way you could best him with strength—you needed to get away from him. 

With quick, nimble fingers, you pulled two smoke bombs from your belt and threw them onto the ground. Large plumes of ashen white immediately ate up the space between you, and he was left blinded for a couple of seconds. You tugged a grenade out a moment later, pulling out the pin with your teeth before tossing it in his general direction and throwing yourself off the opposite side of the building, where you’d spotted a plastic-woven tarp over one of the stalls by the edge of the market.

You’d crashed straight through their booth, fruits and drinks spilling all over the street’s asphalt. The vendors started cussing at you in a language that was foreign to your ears, but you knew they were saying foul things nonetheless. With a groan, you pushed yourself up, ignoring the searing pain that ran down your leg and began running back into the crowd. 

The explosion on the building had blown Marc back several meters, and he cursed beneath his breath as he pushed himself back up. Just as he was about to set back off to track you down, Khonshu’s bellowing voice made him halt in his motions.

“Let them go,” the God rumbled. There was an undertone of mild disappointment that laid stagnant beneath his voice, as if he’d just lost a game rather than a target. “We have more pressing matters at hand. Ammit’s followers are stealing more souls in Cuba.”

Marc’s brow furrowed. “Let them go? You want me to go to Cuba? That’s halfway across the world! I can finish the job, they can’t have gotten too far—”

“We have more pressing matters,” he repeated himself, this time with an edge to his voice. A headache pulsed angrily through Marc’s temple. 

“Why’d you want them dead so bad? This target—that person, were they a follower of Ammit? Huh?” 

Much to his frustration, Khonshu ignored him completely, merely brushing past his avatar. “Go to Havana,” the bird-skull rumbled over his shoulder. “I’ll meet you there.”

And with that, he disappeared.

ASTANA, KAZAKHSTAN.

A final stream of smoke fell from Elena’s lips as she pulled the cigarette away, dropping it into the floor to stub with her boot. She fixed you with a neutral expression as you made your way to her, though the unmistakable affection in her molten brown eyes gave her away. 

“Took you long enough,” she said, glancing at the large black cloak you were wearing. Her demeanor gradually shifted into one of a more somber variety. “Verdict’s been decided. The court decided not to charge—all those police that beat my friends to death… they’re walking away free of consequence. The government’s gone to shit. Everything is more expensive now—riots are breaking out over fuel prices, which means more people are getting killed. Nobody is willing to help anymore.”

You nodded grimly. “What can I do?”

There was a dark glimmer to her eyes as she squared her jaw. “You’re going to help me burn down government buildings. I don’t know how many, but… as many as it takes for them to change.”

A hint of a grin graced your lips as you regarded your past-lover with a nostalgic kind of fondness. “It’s the first time I see you in years and you’re already throwing me headfirst into war.”

She offered you a shrug and a wry smile. “Don’t kid yourself. You live for this kind of shit.”

“Yeah, I guess I do,” you hummed distantly. “Where do we start?”

It was pandemonium. 

Everybody was yelling—the protestors, the police, the civilians watching from the sides, the sparse firemen as they tried to put out the massive, roaring flames that were greedily swallowing the government building in its entirety. You had to admit, you were rather proud of your handiwork—absentmindedly wondering if Elena would be happy with it, as well.

Before you could dwell on it any longer, a foreign hand tightly seized around your wrist and began to drag you back away from the crowd. Your gaze wildly swiveled around in confusion to the man yanking you along, noting his heavy-set furrowed brows and his frustrated scowl. With as much strength as you could muster, you dug your heels into the ground and halted his motion, pulling against him with all your might. He didn’t relent, only staring you down with dark eyes that held the warbling reflections of the fire you set behind you. 

“Who the fuck are you?!” you barked, starting to get more frantic as you fruitlessly attempted to get him to let go of you. 

And when he spoke, it finally dawned on you.

Well, fuck me. It’s that bitch that chased me down in New Delhi. Wonder why he isn’t wearing his super suit… probably not to attract attention like last time. The news was all over him.

“You’re just getting more people killed,” he husked, clearly talking about the fire you’d caused, before brandishing a dark karambit knife, one that you swore gave you a cut just by looking at it. “No wonder he wants you dead.”

Fear wove down your spinal column when the blade poked your lower stomach in warning. “I’m sending a message,” you growled in reply, lips curled over your teeth in a snarl as you bristled. “And what about you? You’re gonna fix the problem by killing me? I don’t even know you! Some hero you are—those people protesting out there? They’re better than you will ever be.”

For a moment, his pupils darted back to the rioting crowd, a flicker of uncertainty crossing his features, and you used the short-lived distraction to your advantage. You expertly kicked the knife out of his hand and landed a quick blow square in the center of his face, feeling his nose break beneath your knuckles. 

Not wanting to push your luck—you remembered how fast he was during your last encounter—you gave him one final shove, sending him sprawling into a trash can with a groan and a muffled curse.

By the time he forced himself back onto his feet a second later, you’d already disappeared into the shadows.

Fuck. Khonshu was gonna kill him.

PODGORICA, MONTENEGRO.

Marc still wasn’t sure why Khonshu wanted you dead so badly. Then again, he wasn’t sure about anything when it came to Khonshu. 

But he knew one thing for certain—if Marc truly wanted you dead, then you would’ve been six feet under weeks ago. Which meant… he wasn’t actively trying to kill you because he didn’t actually want you dead. All the others that he’d killed for Khonshu felt like they’d deserved it—rapists, abusers, pedophiles… and though Marc didn’t know you very well, he knew you weren’t anything like the people he’d killed before.

Marc didn’t know what he was doing. 

Jaw clenched, he pulled the cap lower down his face, shoving his fists into the pockets of his jeans. He followed not too far behind you, silent as a wraith, watching as you merrily strode down the streets of Podgorica. 

Finally, when you stopped by a little coffee truck to order an iced latte, Marc stepped forward to stand beside you.

For the first minute, you idly tapped away on your phone, smiling down at the screen briefly before pocketing the device. You glanced at him, thinking nothing of the person beside you, assuming they were just another civilian—

Then you froze.

You knew that face.

After all, you’d broken that very same nose less than a week ago. Strange, it looked just fine now. 

Immediately, you hunkered down into a defensive position, backing away from him with quick steps. Then, you ran, sprinting away so quickly that Marc could’ve sworn a trail of dust kicked up beneath your feet.

The man in the coffee truck incredulously yelled out after you, followed by a string of what Marc could only assume was a creative litany of Montenegrin profanity. 

Dropping a few shillings onto the truck’s counter, Marc grabbed your coffee and ran after you, shocked at how far you’d managed to get in such a short amount of time. 

There was no denying that you were a fast runner—but as the old tale went, the quick hare would always get overly confident. You slowed down to a moderate jog when you glanced behind you, Marc nowhere in sight. With a relieved sigh, you turned the corner and slumped against a building, wiping the sweat from your brow with the back of your hand. 

Damn, you’d kill for that iced coffee right about now.

As if on cue, Marc rounded the corner, catching you by surprise. You were just ready to turn tail and run away again, but his hand shot out and held onto your wrist, not unlike he did in Astana. 

You spewed out a myriad of curses, ranging from calling him an ‘insufferable cucumber-dicked motherfucker’ to ‘smooth-brained, butt-faced swine’, wildly trying to get him to let go of you. If you weren’t violently bucking against him with all the grace of a panicked mare, he would’ve laughed at the creativity of your insults. 

“Stop, I just want to talk!” exclaimed Marc, dodging when you pushed yourself forward to try and wrap your hands around his throat. 

“Last two times I saw you, you tried to kill me!” you breathlessly spat. “Sorry if I don’t quite trust you now!”

“I’m unarmed,” he gritted out, stepping back slightly to allow you to scan your gaze over him. Though you didn’t want to admit it, you knew that if Marc really wanted to kill you, you would’ve been dead long ago. “I just want to ask you a couple things. And look—I brought your coffee!”

A low hiss fell from your lips. “I’m not answering jack shit.”

With that, you lunged forward and shoved him hard—so hard that he stumbled into the jagged brick wall behind him with an oomf. The iced latte sloshed right out of its cup and spilled all over his chest. His head struck painfully against the stone and his vision went blurry for a moment, expression faltering. 

You stepped away, watching him with cautious, narrowed eyes. 

After a long, pregnant pause, the man blinked in a dazed fashion, seeming confused. 

“What? Where am I? What’s going on?” he said, accent suddenly… British. He fixed you with a genuinely miffed gaze, appearing slightly frightened at your withering glower. 

You didn’t stay to answer his question. 

As you were turning on your heel to run away, you faintly heard him mutter to himself, “Where the bloody hell am I?”

Crazy bastard.

VALENCIA, SPAIN.

Your knuckles were split. Blood dribbled down your fist, a mixture of yours and the man whose face you were caving in.

One of your hands was bunched into the collar of his shirt, holding him down as you rained punches on him. The sickening sound of his bones giving way with your strikes didn’t deter you, and you only snarled and hit him again as he blubbered out prayers in Spanish. Blood-flecked spittle dripped from his busted lips. 

“Who are you praying to?” you hissed, releasing his collar in favor of wrapping your hand over his throat, squeezing tight. The dull green of his eyes flashed with panic, legs flailing weakly. “The gods will not listen to the likes of you—I’ll make sure of it.”

A strangled wail erupted from him. 

And just as you were about to land another punch, you found yourself being shoved away from the man, and promptly lifted off the floor with the scruff of your shirt collar, shoving you against a wall. You began kicking and twisting blindly, cursing furiously when you saw the man you were beating up scurry onto his feet and haggardly sprint away.

Your struggling was of no avail, and you weren’t at all surprised to see the same person that’s been trying to track you down for months now. 

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” he snarled, brows heavily furrowed and dark eyes stormy with anger. “You were about to kill that guy!”

“He deserves it,” you bit out, glaring back at him with just as much intensity. “The fucker’s been stalking a friend of mine and sexually assaulted her daughter.”

There was a beat of silence. Marc’s cross expression seemed to drain away, but he still bore a stern face as he slowly let you go. You slid down the wall and got back onto your feet with a wince. 

“Why have you been following me?” you huffed, dusting off your pants. “You think I don’t know that if you really wanted to kill me, I would be dead by now?”

Marc squared his jaw and leveled his gaze on you. “Someone… close to me wants you dead. I want to know why first—he won’t tell me.”

“Sounds like you shouldn't be all that close to him, then,” you snorted derisively. 

“Not for a lack of trying,” the man dryly replied. 

With a scoff, you stepped forward and wiped your bloody knuckles onto his shirt, leaving a damp trail of darkening crimson. “There’s way too many reasons a person would want me dead,” you whispered, one hand patting his chest. The other trailed down, down, down…

To the high-rise potted plant beside you. You grabbed a fistful of dirt.

“See, he’s not exactly what you’d call a person—”

Before Marc could finish his sentence, you chucked the dirt straight into his face. He inhaled some of the soil and doubled over, pounding on his chest as he coughed it out. With a growl, he frustratedly swiped the remaining flecks of dirt out of his eyes, blearily looking back up. And, to none of his surprise but much of his dismay, you were already gone.

OSLO, NORWAY.

“Why aren’t they dead yet, Marc?” grumbled Khonshu in that grating, gravely tone of his. Even though the God had no eyes, Marc could still feel his stare burning straight through him. 

With a frown, Marc was quick to respond, “Because you haven’t told me why yet.”

“You’ve never needed a reason before—always blindly following my orders,” the bird-skull crooned. “What makes them so different?”

There was a bitter taste to the back of Marc’s throat. What made you so different?

“Because I don’t know if they deserve it, alright?” he retorted, crossing his arms to glare up at the tall figure. “You can’t just expect me to kill everyone who mildly inconveniences you.”

Harrumphing, Khonshu snapped back, “They are naught but an inconvenience—they are a disruption to the very balance of nature. Y/N has taken justice into their own hands, and that is a very dangerous thing for a simple mortal to do.”

Marc cast his gaze away in frustration, pacing back and forth. “But that’s exactly what you make me do.”

“Yes, because you are my avatar,” deadpanned the God. “And Y/N is not. Though, they might as well be because you are being a fool.”

He could feel one of his eyes twitch. There wasn’t ever a conversation Marc could remember where Khonshu didn’t insult him. 

“They’re doing what they think is right,” defended Marc. “They’re not hurting people just for the sake of it.”

“That is not for them to decide!” bellowed the God, which made him step back just a bit. “They have done terrible, unimaginable things in the past—though mistakes some may be—and they will continue to make them. Take a look for yourself.” With that, Khonshu swept his arm out, gesturing to the large bank across the street, large windows giving him a clear view of what was going on inside.

His heart dropped down to his stomach when he saw you. 

You were wearing a mask that covered the entirety of your features, except for your eyes and your mouth. The rest of your body was shrouded with simple, dark clothing, suitable for running. 

And, most notably, you had a gun in your hand, pointing straight at the trembling woman working behind the counter. Your mouth was moving and you gestured with lax, calm movements, despite the explicit terror written across the woman’s face.

Marc’s brow furrowed. Damn it. 

He watched as you snatched the bag of money the woman slowly slid over, and hightailed out of the bank with the gun still gripped tightly in your hand. You ran the opposite way, before disappearing down another block. Glancing over at Khonshu, only to see that he was nowhere in sight, Marc huffed out a sigh and began sprinting after you.

One downside of Oslo was that their buildings weren’t exactly the easiest to climb—which meant that you had to stick to the ground and trust your speed. 

Marc wasn’t as fast as you without his suit, that was for certain. But with his suit—he could glide. 

And so that’s how the white-caped figure dropped straight down in front of you out of seemingly nowhere, which elicited a shriek of surprise from you, nearly dropping the bag out of shock. You had pulled your mask off long ago, shoving it into the knapsack shrugged over your shoulders, along with the gun. 

This clearly wasn’t your first time doing this.

“You,” was what you incredulously breathed out, eyes wide. “You must be obsessed with me or something.”

Not in the mood to play around, Marc growled out, “Why are you doing this? Give the money back. It’s not yours.”

“Who said it was for me?” you countered, upper lip curled in contempt. You tilted your head at him, eyeing his suit with interest, before returning back to your scathing disposition. “Not that it’s any of your business, but this money’s for the small orphanage a couple miles from here. They’re barely getting by with the money the government gives them. I have a kid there I know.”

With bated breath, Marc willed the suit away, leaving him in a dark sweatshirt and a pair of woolen pants. He eyed you suspiciously, still not too sure if he should trust you.

Sensing this, you rolled your eyes and unzipped your bag. “If you don’t believe me—check my gun. It’s blank.” You fished out the small weapon and handed it over to him with the end pointed towards you so he wouldn’t think you were going to shoot him. “No bullets.”

Marc didn’t need to check it—by now he knew you were telling the truth. But he looked into the chamber anyway, finding it void of any ammunition. 

“Can I go now? We both know you’re not going to kill me. The cops will be looking,” you said, voice a bit more gentle than before. He noticed that the anger on your face had melted away, leaving only urgency and another tumultuous emotion that he couldn’t quite pinpoint.

When he offered you no response, finally relenting, you nodded once to him, a glimmer of gratitude behind your irises. And with that, you began running again, effortlessly disappearing into the shadows.

“Fool,” thundered a rumbling growl from somewhere above him. Marc looked up, but the bird-skulled God was nowhere to be found.

COLUMBUS, OHIO.

Damn. Nothing hit harder than classic, greasy, American cheeseburgers with a side of curly fries and a milkshake. You shifted eagerly on the sticky red leather of the booths, shooting the waitress who’d handed you your food a flirtatious smirk and a ten dollar bill, which she took with an equally salacious wink.

You grinned down at your food before taking the first bite into the burger, a muffled noise of content falling from your throat.

“Am I interrupting something?” said a frustratingly familiar voice, the man sliding into the seat across from you. “It sounds like you were just about to have the greatest sex of your life—with a cheeseburger.”

You pointedly glared at him, though it lacked any true heat. After about a dozen deliberately slow chews, you finally swallowed down the food. Marc looked like he wanted to say something else, but you merely held up a finger, slurping on the paper straw of your milkshake. He pursed his lips with a mildly aggrieved look.

Finally, you tilted your head at him. 

“Is there something you want from me?” you asked him casually, reaching to the end of the table to grab a napkin and wipe at the corner of your lips. “Because I’m not in the drug business anymore, if that’s what you’re looking for. Or is it something else, hm?”

It seemed that Marc hadn’t completely thought this through. Sure, he’d planned out what he roughly wanted to say to you, but now that you were right in front of him, he found his tongue running dry. He fumbled for words, fists clenching and unclenching by his knees. 

“I don’t want to kill you. Or hurt you at all, for that matter.”

You scoffed, remembering the instances in which he’d hurt you plenty.

“I just… I want to know your side of the story. I want to know why you do what you do,” he said, a bit quieter. 

For a moment, Marc thought you’d just tell him to piss off. But there was a gradual shift to your features, going from obvious irritation to gentle curiosity. 

“Alright. I’ll cut you a deal,” you said, popping a curly fry into your mouth. “I tell you about my tragic backstory, and you tell me all about this… thing that’s been wanting to kill me. And before I start—I’m gonna need your name. I can’t keep mentally cataloging you as the toilet paper man.”

And for the first time since you met him all those months ago—Marc laughed. It was deep and gratingly genuine, coming from the very bottom of his chest.

“Well, first of all, it’s not toilet paper. It’s the ceremonial armor of Khonshu’s temple. And second, it’s Marc. Marc Spector.”

“Ceremonial armor of whose what now?” you balked. 

A hint of a smile graced the corner of Marc’s lips. “Khonshu—Egyptian God of the moon. I’m his avatar. He’s the one that wanted me to kill you. He called you a disruption to nature—said that you were wrongfully taking justice into your own hands.” As he spoke, the smile began to wane away, and he regarded you in a more serious light. “I want to know why he thinks that.”

You stared down at your plate of fries, stunned. An Egyptian God wanted you dead? You knew you pissed people off, but Gods too?

“And if you don’t like what you hear?” you quietly asked, lifting your gaze to meet his. “Will you drag me out of the diner and strangle me to death?”

Though you could tell he didn’t like saying it, Marc’s face was set in stone when he leveled with you. “I’ll give you a head’s start.”

Another beat of silence. You picked up another fry and popped it into your mouth. The plate slid across the table as you nudged it towards him. 

“Alright, Marc. Settle in, have some fries, order a milkshake—it’s a long story.”

And you told him everything. You told him about your childhood—rumbling stomachs, nimble thieving hands, falling off of buildings when running away from cops. You told him about your teenage years—pulling off heists, brokering deals with gangs, breaking nearly every bone in your body being reckless. You told him about your early adult years—falling in love with Elena, getting more comfortable as a vigilante, as you liked to call yourself, meeting other superheroes and helping out on occasion. Marc seemed to recognize Spider-Man and Daredevil’s names when you mentioned them in passing, his eyebrows arching up closer to his hairline. 

You told him that you now spend your days traveling around the globe helping people. 

By the time you were done spilling your entire life story, your fries and burger were cleanly polished off. 

Marc was silent for a long time, as if unsure what to say. 

“I was in love once, too,” he said in a tentative manner, gaze trained on the table. “Her name was Layla.”

“Oh, yeah?” you curiously said, sipping on the last frothy remnants of your milkshake at the bottom of the glass. “And how’d that work out for you?”

There was a sad glint to his eyes. “Not so good. We’re divorced now.” He cleared his throat before you could press him about it. “What happened with you and Elena?”

It was now your turn to stare out the window in a despondent manner. “Same as you. Except we were never married. My lifestyle was… too much for her.”

Marc nodded in understanding. “Yeah, me too.”

The two of you stared at the glossy table in silence.

“You still in love with her?”

You lifted your gaze to meet his. “I love her, yeah—I always will. I’m just not in love with her anymore.”

The man across from you hummed. There was a newfound understanding between you two—unspoken, but the both of you could feel it. 

“Do you still love Layla?”

A ghost of a smile graced his features, but it was gone just as quickly as it came. “Not in the same way I used to. But I do.”

With a final slurp of your straw, your drink glass was emptied. “Seems like we’re a lot more similar than first meets the eye, huh?” 

Marc fixed you with a loose, awkward smile. Without another word, he pulled the bill of his cap lower down his face, and slid out of the booth. It seemed that he wasn’t going to be strangling you tonight. 

You didn’t look back when he walked out of the diner, the bell hooked by the doortop tolling with his departure.

YEKATERINBURG, RUSSIA.

The bird skull was saying something. His bony beak was moving. You could feel the vibrations of his thundering voice beneath your feet. And yet—you had no fucking clue what he was talking about.

You blinked up at the God with wide eyes. 

“Could you repeat that?” you winced out, having not picked up a single word Khonshu had said in the past three minutes. The God grumbled, and somehow glared at you despite having no eyes within his bony skull. Beside you, Marc let out a muffled snort.

“You insolent buffoon,” the bony figure snarled. “Have you not been listening?”

Despite the bristling God in front of you, you found the entire situation to be amusing. “Sorry, it’s just… your head’s really big. It’s kinda distracting. Just paraphrase yourself—I don’t need all the terms and conditions.”

Marc’s shoulders shook with silent laughter, but he immediately sobered up when Khonshu rounded his pointed beak to him, back straightening. 

“This is a gravely serious matter—!”

“You know what else is serious?” you snapped, pulling your thick woolen coat closer to your quivering body. “Catching hypothermia! Did you really have to pick Russia of all places? We couldn’t have met on a warm beach in the Caribbeans, or something?”

If Khonshu had eyelids, you were sure they would’ve been twitching with repressed agitation by now.

A deep baritone of a sigh fell from the lanky God. He leaned his weight against his crescent-tipped staff, as if willing his own patience to hold steadfast. 

“I said—” he started again, watching you cautiously, “—that I will be letting go of your past sins. But only because my avatar is so keen on you, and because you show a consistent effort to rid the world of evil. However, if you slip up so much as once, I will personally see that to an unkind descent into the afterlife. Do I make myself clear?”

“Crystal!” you harrumphed, tucking your frigid nose into the collar of your fur coat. “And I did those things to people who deserved it—which is exactly the same as what you do, you bony hypocrite! Can we go inside now?”

The God grumbled something unintelligible, though you suspected it had something to do with your impertinence, and disappeared in the blink of an eye.

“You’ll get used to him,” assured Marc, placing a hand on your back to lead you back inside. “He doesn’t get any better but—you’ll get used to it.”

“That’s reassuring,” you dryly responded, teeth beginning to chatter. As soon as the two of you started to walk back to the small little city hotel, you elbowed his side with a playful grin. “So… you’re keen on me, huh?”

Marc gave you an unimpressed look. Snowflakes danced with the wind and landed in his neatly-combed curls. “Khonshu had to believe that I liked you—the last thing he’d want is a sloppy, grieving avatar.”

“Mmh, I don’t know…” you said, tapping your finger against your chin in thought. “He’d probably like that, considering he’s one manipulative son of a bitch. Maybe he just secretly likes me and wants to keep me around.”

“Yeah,” snorted Marc. He halted in his tracks, forcing down a smile. “That, or I blackmailed him.”

Your eyes widened, frost clinging to your lashes and brows. “You blackmailed an Egyptian God?”

“Let’s just say that he’s had a sticky romance with the Egyptian Goddess of love—ironically, she’s one of the few beings that he’s genuinely terrified of. I threatened to get in contact with her avatar if he didn’t absolve you.”

You kicked at a small build-up of snow by the sidewalk, an excited gleam to your irises. “Crazy how even the Gods have petty dating drama to gossip about,” you commented, turning to him. His nose was tinted a faint shade of red from the cold, bits of white frost freckling his hair and his clothes. “Thanks for not killing me, by the way,” you added as an afterthought, fixing him with a warm smile. 

“Just keep out of trouble,” he gently reminded, mirroring your soft grin. The two of you were now standing in front of your dingy little motel—and Marc apparently had something to attend to halfway across the world in Cuba. 

So this was goodbye. 

For now, at least.

Without thinking, you leaned forward to press your cold lips against the warmth of his cheek, the tip of your nose grazing his cheekbone as you laid a hand on his shoulder. 

“Thanks,” you whispered when you pulled away slightly, breath misting into an opaque fog. Marc was regarding you with an expression that bordered on fondness, which was certainly a new look that you found yourself craving for more. “I haven’t really properly talked to anybody in ages so… this was nice. Goodbye, Marc.”

With that, you turned on your heel and headed into the hotel, grateful for the blast of warmth from the overhead heater, though you could still feel Marc’s burning stare bore holes into your back, even as you turned the corner and disappeared from his sight.

ADDIS ABABA, ETHIOPIA.

Blood, everywhere.

Gunshots in the distance.

Snarling men rounding the corner—human traffickers.

Your dagger glinting beneath the hot Ethiopian sun.

A man screaming as you sliced his throat. 

Gurgling.

Red on your hands. On your clothes. On your shoes. 

Two successive punches—one to your stomach, and the other to your face.

Pain blooming beneath your skin.

A fist around your throat.

Squeezing. 

Choking.

Dark spots dancing about your vision.

Your nails clawing into their eyes. 

Air.

Gasping for breath. 

Wheezing.

You desperately parried away another assailant’s knife.

A song of steel against steel.

More gunshots flying every which way.

You dove behind large metal crates. 

Sand in your shoes.

Copper on your tongue.

Crashing. Yelling. Cursing.

Your fingers flexing around the hilt of your dagger.

Bated breath.

You looked around the crate.

Marc fucking Spector.

A ghost of a smile on your lips.

Your name being called out—surprise in his tone.

“Fancy seeing you here!” you shouted.

Marc’s fist curled into one of the traffickers’ collars.

“It’s been a while!” came his mildly amused reply.

A grunt. A punch. A groan of pain.

His white cape fluttered with the wind. 

“You down for a burger or something later?”

You spoke calmly, as if you weren’t currently strangling someone with a long power cord. 

The man fell limp in your hold. 

“Sure—I could go for a burger,” he called out, 

Blood trickled down your nose and grazed your lip. 

You wiped it away with the back of your hand.

The last of the traffickers was struck down with Marc’s crescent boomerang. 

A breath of relief. 

Drenched in blood (most of which was not yours), you made your way to Marc.

“You clean up nice,” he joked.

A roll of your eyes.

“Oh, shucks, Marc,” you simpered with a mischievous grin, dragging a bloody hand down his face once he retracted his mask. 

He grimaced in disgust, but didn’t push you away. 

A laugh fell from your throat, hoarse and echoing.

You looped your aching, bleeding arms with his. 

“Let’s go get that burger.”

LIVERPOOL, ENGLAND.

“Ow—ugh, Marc, could you go any faster?” you barked through the dirty cloth wedged between your teeth, glaring up at him with watering eyes. You’d endured pain far worse than this, sure, but Marc was taking twice as long stitching you up than when you’d do it yourself. Though, admittedly, whenever you had to patch yourself up, it was a rather shoddy job and often left a much larger, gnarled scar than it would’ve, had you properly taken care of it. 

The man above you shook his head, dark curls hanging loosely over his forehead. “Stop moving and maybe it’ll hurt less,” he replied, the tip of his tongue sticking out the corner of his mouth as he worked on your stitches. “You know, just because we work together now and I heal quickly doesn’t mean you do, too.”

With a grimace, you tore the cloth from your mouth, chucking it somewhere across the small motel room to freely speak to him. “It was just a mistake,” you replied, nearly doubling over with a strained groan when he punctured the skin of your abdomen with a small needle, where the deep gash resided, one last time. “I timed myself wrong. Happens sometimes.”

Marc let his eyes roam over your exposed skin, brows divoting ever so slightly upon seeing the multiple other scars littering your body. They were memories of your past, and you weren’t ashamed of them. 

“Doesn’t look like it only happens sometimes,” he murmured, tying off his sutures and cleaning off the last bits of flaking, dried blood on your stomach before binding the open wound with thin bandages. 

“You worried about me?”

Marc didn’t spare you a response. He busied himself by putting away the medkit and tossing the discarded, bloodied clothes into the bathroom sink. When he came back to sit on the bed beside you, you had gingerly moved positions so that you were propped up against the creaking bed’s headboard. 

“How are you feeling?”

“Shitty,” you whispered. “England fucking stinks.”

Marc chuckled, a small smile curling his lips upwards, though you noticed that it didn’t quite reach his eyes. 

The two of you sat in silence for a while. 

“Thanks for stitching me up,” you told him.

“Thanks for not dying on me,” he replied. His hand sought yours and your fingers laced with his. “I know we’ve only been working together for a month by now, but I’m starting to really like you.”

With one last painful shift, you moved so that your faces were only inches away. You paused when your lips were just a hairsbreadth from his, giving him time to yank you away if need be. 

But he didn’t. 

His lips met yours with a tender sort of sadness, pouring months of frustration and anger into the embrace. A warm hand came up to cradle the back of your head, angling you closer, wary of your newly-stitched wound. 

Forehead resting against his, you gently pulled away, finding solace in the fact that he chased after your lips just a bit, before cracking his dark eyes open. 

“We shouldn’t do this,” he mumbled, gaze darting back down to your parted mouth. 

“Okay,” came your broken reply.

And despite it all, he threw all caution to the wind and kissed you again. Again, and again, and again—far into the night, until the two of you passed out on the stained sheets of the motel bed, limbs intertwined and your nose pressed against his throat, where you could hear the soft thrumming of his heartbeat. 

Unbeknownst to the two of you, Khonshu was hovering on the rooftop, finding himself rather glad that his avatar had finally found someone he could trust—even if that someone was the very bane of his existence. 

“I need a new avatar,” the God harrumphed to nobody but himself, knowing full and well that he wasn’t letting go of Marc Spector and his… counterparts any time soon. 

[tigoonacom]

Empowering Women Street Vendors: Overcoming Challenges and Building Resilience.

Women street vendors play a vital role in the informal economy, contributing significantly to their families' livelihoods and the overall economic landscape. However, these hardworking individuals often face numerous challenges, exacerbated by the COVID-19 pandemic. In this blog, we will explore the obstacles faced by women street vendors in India during COVID-19 and propose effective solutions to support and empower them.

The Significance of Women Street Vendors.

Street vending is a common practice in India, and women have been actively participating in this informal sector for generations. These vendors offer a wide range of goods, including fruits, vegetables, snacks, handicrafts, and garments. The income generated from street vending helps sustain their families, pay for education, and cover healthcare expenses. Therefore, empowering women street vendors not only benefits them but also fosters economic growth at the grassroots level.

Challenges Faced by Women Street Vendors During COVID-19.

1. Income Instability: The pandemic resulted in reduced footfall and decreased purchasing power, leading to a severe decline in vendors' daily earnings. The absence of tourists and restrictions on movement further exacerbated the situation.

2. Health and Hygiene Concerns: Ensuring hygiene and safety practices became challenging for street vendors, as they lacked access to proper sanitation facilities and personal protective equipment (PPE).

3. Legal Ambiguities: Many street vendors faced harassment from authorities or eviction threats due to unclear regulations and a lack of proper vending zones.

4. Digital Divide: The shift towards online shopping during the pandemic excluded women street vendors, who often lacked access to digital platforms and online payment systems.

5. Financial Exclusion: Traditional financial institutions often overlook street vendors, making it difficult for them to access credit or formal financial services.

Solutions to Empower Women Street Vendors.

1. Financial Inclusion: Creating micro-credit programs and encouraging the participation of women street vendors in self-help groups can provide them with access to affordable credit and financial services.

2. Capacity Building: Organizing skill development workshops and training sessions can enhance their entrepreneurial skills, product diversification, and marketing strategies.

3. Health and Safety Measures: Establishing mobile sanitation facilities and distributing free PPE kits to vendors can promote hygiene and safety practices.

4. Advocating for Legal Protection: Collaborating with local authorities to create designated vending zones and ensuring vendors' protection from harassment can provide stability and reduce insecurity.

5. Digital Integration: Introducing digital literacy programs and supporting the adoption of e-commerce platforms can help women street vendors reach a wider customer base.

6. Social Support Systems: Encouraging community-driven support systems and promoting social security schemes can act as safety nets during emergencies or economic downturns.

7. Awareness Campaigns: Raising awareness among the public about the importance of supporting women street vendors can foster a culture of appreciation and respect for their contributions.

Empowering women street vendors is essential for achieving inclusive economic growth and reducing gender disparities. By addressing the challenges they face during COVID-19 and beyond, we can enable these resilient entrepreneurs to thrive and contribute significantly to their families and communities. Collaborative efforts from governments, NGOs, and civil society organizations are crucial in implementing sustainable solutions that create an enabling environment for women street vendors to flourish. Together, we can build a more equitable and prosperous future for all.

[viagginterstellari]

Handmade cigarettes - Odisha, 2023

[daydreaming-en-pointe]

˗ˏˋ street food date ´ˎ˗

(isn’t that just the most creative title :D)

requested by very a lovely person who wishes to remain anonymous <3

Pairing: Pavitr Prabhakar (Spider-Man India) x Fem!Pakistani!Reader

Type: Oneshot - Fluff

Word count: 1.3k

Warnings: terms of endearment, mentions of food & eating, usage of Hindi (translations provided), I don’t speak Urdu so it’s google-translated 😭

A/N: Reader speaks Urdu and Pavi (canonically) speaks Hindi. Since both languages are pretty similar in terms of speaking, at least from what I’ve observed, let’s assume that they can understand each other fairly easily :)

I absolutely LOVED writing this omg it was such a cute request! Sorry it took me so long so do this, I was so busy that I completely forgot abt all my reqs for a while 😅

Btw this was barely proofread so if there are mistakes no there aren’t <3

“Meri jaan, you’re spilling it.”

You turned at the familiar voice, just barely managing to balance a paper plate in your hands with an absurd amount of dahi papadi chaat piled onto it.

“You’re late,” You noted, biting the inside of your cheek to stop yourself from smiling like a lovestruck idiot as Pavitr approached you, flashing that dazzling, slightly crooked grin that had your heart stumbling and falling over your mind trying to make sense of it all. You dropped your gaze to the floor, trying your best to cross your arms without dropping the food on the plate.

“I know. And I’m sorry, I really am. But you know that juggling my… duties and timings are hard,” He dipped his head slightly to make you look at him, brushing a small piece of papdi off your kurta. God, he was so annoying sometimes. His eyes were so soft and irresistible and he knew it.

“Come on, look at me,” He said teasingly, stepping forward slightly and grinning as you glanced up at him, then immediately frowned at your lack of willpower when it came to him. “There she is.”

You felt a smile break through so you set down the paper plate on a nearby ledge, leaning forward to wrap him in a hug and bury your face in his clothes. “Arre, you’re insufferable,” You mumbled, to which he let out a small chuckle and effortlessly picked you up to spin you around despite your little yelp of surprise.

“Oh, yeah, definitely. I’m sure that’s why you came out here on a date with me to have street food, right? Let’s go, meri dhoop. No use of you being all sad right now, naa? Look, there’s even pani puri a few stalls down.”

You almost got whiplash from how fast you turned your head to look, your eyes widening in excitement as all previous thoughts were forgotten. “You should’ve mentioned that earlier!”

Pavitr laughed, the easy chuckle - as cliché as it sounded - practically music to your ears as you grabbed his hand and took off, leading him to the pani puri vendor. “I knew that’d cheer you up.”

One shared paper plate of (admittedly quite messy) pani puri and a whole skewer of seekh kebab later, you leaned against a ledge overlooking the Mumbattan bridge right next to a whole row of new vendors. Pavitr wrapped an arm a little too tightly around your shoulders, nervously measuring the distance you would fall if you tripped.

“Pavi, relax, I won’t fall,” You gave him a reassuring smile, and he breathed out slowly before giving you a slightly strained smile in return. “Yeah, sorry. Spider-Man stuff. Lots of, uh… bad things happen. Usually near large drops.”

Your eyes flicked to his hand, gripping the railing so hard his knuckles were starting to lose circulation. Sensing his discomfort, you moved away from the railing back into the middle of the cobblestones.

“I’m going to braid your hair,” You declared suddenly to ease the tension in the air, examining the smooth waves that framed his face, pushed back slightly with his blue headband. His eyes widened in horror at your statement. “Wait, what? No! I said I was sorry for coming late! I’ll do my absolute best to come on time, I promise!”

“I’m not that rough,” You protested, scrunching your eyebrows as he cupped his warm hands over your cheeks. “Of course not, meri jaan. You’re so gentle, my hair definitely doesn’t feel like it’s being sent to an early grave.”

“Aap drama baghair kisi wajah ke bana rahay hain.” (You are making drama for no reason) You frowned at him and he chuckled softly, shaking his head.

“Kabhi nahin! Mei achcha vajeh se drama karta hoon. …Uff, thik hai, tum mere baalon ko tod sakte hain. Lekin… pehle ise kha leh.” (Never! I do drama for good reasons. ..Okay, fine, you can tear my hair out. But first… eat this.)

He held up a plate of vada pav, his smile growing as your eyes lit up again, the familiar scent bringing back memories of sitting in your grandparents’ house and watching them cook, masala-infused aromas wafting through the kitchen from the large utensils.

“What did I do to deserve you?” You wondered aloud as you started stuffing your face with the nostalgic dish. Your tone was lighthearted and playful, but it had a few traces of the underlying truth. You were so, so lucky to have him, and you knew it.

You could see it every time he dramatically presented you with some knickknack or the other that he picked up along the way, handing it to you with a bashful ‘it made me think of you.’ You could see it every time he adjusted your dupatta, every time you caught him staring at you with round, loving, awestruck eyes as if you were the very centre of the cosmos itself.

And when he smiled at everyone it was usually genuine, sure, but you had a special kind of smile reserved for your eyes alone. One that made the small dimples at the corners of his mouth even more noticeable, one that made him scrunch his nose subconsciously with how wide he was smiling.

The kind of smile he was using right now. And oh, good grief, you were so far gone for him. He was so effortlessly gorgeous it actually hurt - wavy hair swept to one side behind his headband, brown eyes turning gold in the sun, the light dappling his face and flicking tiny spots of shadow onto his skin.

“Tum bohat khobsorat ho,” (You’re so beautiful) You whispered, completely spellbound. Pavitr blinked in surprise, his smile turning slightly shy. “Arrey, tum mujhe bahut zyaada phlait karte ho.” (You flatter me too much)

“No, really!” You insisted, tapping the tip of his nose with your pinky and laughing when he scrunched it instinctively. “You’re very pretty, you know that? Mera khobsorat ladka. Pretty, pretty boy.” (My beautiful boy)

“Aap adhik sundar hai.” (You’re more beautiful) Without warning, he gently grabbed your torso and pulled you into his arms, burying his face in your hair. You looped your arms around to meet behind his shoulder blades, resting your chin in the crook of his neck.

You were scared to move, to disturb the silent peacefulness of it all, but you wanted to tell him something that would hopefully put his worries to rest.

“You know I won’t leave you, right? I won’t be your… what is it, canon event? Whatever that is.”

At the words ‘canon event’, Pavitr flinched as if he had been burned, his eyes wide and searching as he looked at you. “What? Where did that come from? And how-”

“Okay, listen, so it’s kinda my fault,” You began, choosing your words so as to not agitate him any further. “But you know how you said I could read your journal, because basically every embarrassing thing you’ve written is you being lovesick for me?”

“I didn’t think you’d actually do it!” He covered his face with his hands in embarrassment, messing up his hair in the process.

“Anyway, uh… you left it open on your drawer and I maybe kind of accidentally looked through the last entry. But only because I was worried. You’d been acting stressed out the whole day, remember? I’m sorry!”

“I don’t… hmm, actually, that’s pretty sweet that you were worried. I appreciate it.” He lifted his head to meet your eyes, almost smiling before his face crumpled again. “Hang on, what else did you see? Oh, god, did you see the whole page of poems I wrote? No, wait, hear me out! In my defence, I was absolutely whipped for you. I still am, but-”

“Pavi?”

“Yeah?”

“Ai, meri mohabbat. Chup ho jao. Mujhe lagta hai ke yeh dilkash hai,” (My love. Shush. I think it’s adorable) You reassured him, leaning forward to kiss the tip of his nose before moving in to press a soft kiss to his lips, an attempt at putting his worries and ramblings to rest.

That shut him up pretty well.

Please know that I am not Pakistani! I tried my best to write this, but if there is anything I’ve gotten wrong, please let me know and I’ll be happy to change it. <3

Meri jaan - my life

Meri dhoop - My sunshine/my sun

A kurta is a loose, collarless type of shirt worn by people in South Asia. It usually extends up to or just past the knee.

A dupatta is a length of material worn arranged in two folds over the chest and thrown back around the shoulders, typically with a salwar kameez or a kurta, by women from South Asia.

Papdi chaat (or papri chaat) is crispy fried-dough wafers served with typical chaat ingredients such as chickpeas, boiled potatoes, yogurt sauce, and tamarind and coriander chutneys; it may also contain pomegranate seeds. Dahi papdi chaat is the same thing, but more yoghurt is used (dahi means yoghurt/curd).

Pani puri is a popular Indian snack consisting of fried puff-pastry balls filled with spiced mashed potato (the puri), spiced water, and tamarind juice (the pani).

Seekh kebab is a type of kebab made with Indian spices, spiced, minced or ground meat, usually lamb or chicken, formed into cylinders on skewers and grilled.

Tags: @hobiebrownismygod @l0starl @therealloopylupin2099

[tmwcs]

ↀOUBLE IIROUBLE - CHAPTER FIVE

Warnings: um...yeah...some non-con stuff turned to consensual. read at your own risk, (still a good read though) you all know how i like a good dark fic...this one aint no different but done worry, it gets good. Not proofread...my excuse this time is bc the power outage.....so...yeah. lol.

@heeshees - you're going to like this one. This will be your chapter ;)

@nikstrange - girl with all those edits you be sending me...you're next. lol. dont worry boo...i got you.

Walking out through the double door exit, you saw the parked car before you the moment you stepped out. Heeseung gets out of the front passenger seat and opens the door to the back for you, flashing you with a warm and closed-mouth smile, greeting you as he cradles you into the back seat before returning to his own beside Heejeong.

“How was work?” 

“It was good, thanks.” You faintly returned the smile as you settle in the seat. 

Heejeong was driving this time. While you placed your seatbelt on, he turns back to make eye contact and inquires how your day went.

“Did you have a good day?” 

“Yeah I did, a little busy but good. Thanks.”

Once Heeseung was settled in his own seat, the brothers both paired a soft smile as Heejeong begins driving off, while Heeseung inquires what you were craving for dinner. 

“Anything in particular you want for dinner?” 

“Mmm no not really, whatever you guys feel like having is fine.”

“Oh come girl, we’ve been choosing since you moved in. It’s your turn, tell us…” turning around in his seat, while you sat directly behind, Heeseung peeks back at you. Leaning slightly backwards, his shoulder blades hovering over the center console as his head gently grazes over Heejeong’s shoulder, he displays a toothy grin with narrow eyes as he nudges his chin to you. With the hand that was closest to your leg, he reaches over and gently places his palm right on the edge of your kneecap. 

“What do you want? Baby….sis?” 

You smiled and chuckled nervously at his tone, his words, and the physical contact. Yet the roughness of his hand against your bare skin felt relaxing…and thrilling at the same time. The scent of his and Heejeong’s cologne combined made of the perfect scent as Heejeong’s coolness and the spice of Heeseung’s warmth made up for a pleasant combination. 

His touch was stirring something inside you, but who could possibly blame you? Both men were attractive, smart, successful, and kind. The fact that you were becoming their stepsister was a huge bonus considering they were extra nice to you. 

Far too….nice…..

Gently rubbing his fingertips along your skin, swaying them back and forth, he snaps you out of your dazed state as his tranquil voice hits you like a ton of bricks. It was too calm, almost sentimental….personal….and even sensual. 

“Hmm? Sis? You still thinking about what it is…..we can get you?” His toothy grin transitions to a subtle closed mouth smirk as his narrow eyes widened just a tad, staring right into the depths of your soul through your own peepers. 

“Umm….should we get Indian food?”

Smiling once more, Heeseung nods, as did Heejeong. 

“That sounds good, Indian food it is! We know a really good spot.” Heejeong remarks as he steers the wheel effortlessly with one hand, while resting his chin in his palm, elbow propped against the window.

……….

The boys didn’t lie, they did know of a good spot. You would have never had thought to try out the street food vendors, but once they introduced you to one, ran by a friendly couple that hailed from the beautiful lands of India, you were amazed at just how sensational the food was. 

“Do you know what you want? We can order for you if you like?”

“Yeah, I’d like that.” 

“Oh I know you will…”

Smirking while speaking lowly, staring while you gazed at the menu hoisted right under the canopy of the food stall, you didn’t catch his response. 

“Hmm? Sorry did you say something?”

“Nah, just speaking aloud while reading the menu.” He chuckles as he smiles down at you. His smile, it was so dashing with the way he peered down from his height, scoffing just a tad bit of that smooth and mellow voice as he swipes his tongue over the top row of his teeth. He looked so smooth and handsome, yet bashful at the same time. 

“You guys ready?” Heejeong looks back with the same smile, reaching out to you and Heeseung. You both walk up to meet with him at the window, where he continued to dash a devilish smile as he faintly bites down on his bottom lip. 

“Yeah, we’re ready. Just get Y/n the same as us.” 

“You got it.” Heejeong responds handsomely as he turns back to the gentleman at the window and places the order. 

The three of you chose a double benched, picnic table where you sat right next to Heejeong and across from Heeseung.

The owner of the food vendor stall brought out the dishes that Heejeong and Heeseung recommended. The smell was delightful, not to mention, it was a dish that brought you a sense of nostalgia, as you recognize the ingredients. It was a traditional dish that you were fond of, but it had been so long since you last had it.  

Chole Kulche, your favorite.

“Do you know what this is?” Heeseung raised a brow and looked at you with an admiring gaze, watching as you looked at the dish.

“Yeah…yeah I do.” You nodded slightly as you faintly chuckled. It was a dish that you enjoyed immensely and had brought out your love for Indian food to begin with.

Chuckling, Heeseung rests his chin in his palm as he props his elbow next to his plate. "Hmm...then tell me princess…what’s the name of it?” he teasingly asks, testing the accuracy of your knowledge and honesty in a playful and flirtatious manner.

“Chole Kulche.” You chuckled back.

Smiling, he maintained sitting upright in his posture while his chin rested against his palm, blinking with satisfaction. “Good girl…you even know how to pronounce it correctly.” He finishes and he winks at you.

The three of you dined and enjoyed the evening with laughter, just like always, with every meal. They kept you entertained with stories of their childhood, which revealed the development of their close bond as they shared their most valuable moments together, which had always reflected the both of them relying on one another as each other’s backbone. You couldn’t deny it, it had made you a bit jealous seeing as you lacked that sibling bond growing up.

“Are you excited for the wedding?” Heeseung asked as he sips out of his cup, his eyes lingering on you while he raises his brows.

“Yeah I’m pretty excited….its good for my mom that she found your guys dad. I was starting to get a little worried since she had been without any companionship for a while.” You remarked seldomly, taking note of the solid gaze that the brothers issued to one another at the mentioning of your mother being with their father, Danny.

You didn’t know what to make of the look, but it didn’t seem to be one of pleasant value, considering it was a stern and dissatisfying look. So much, that it propelled you to return the question right back.

“What about you guys?”

Heeseung looks down at his plate and smirks, while Heejeong spoke for the both of them.  “We are thrilled to have you and your mother apart of the family.”

Leaving it at that simple statement, you watched as the two went silent and focused on eating, which left you nodding and not pushing for any more questions, you had sensed that you were breaching a sour subject since it was no secret that they had a troubling bond with their father, that was made evident since the first dinner you had with them. Yet you didn’t know why since their father, Danny, had seemed like a jewel, he was nice to your mother and very caring towards you as a father would be to his own daughter.

You had wondered if they had harbored some sort of grudge, perhaps it had something to do with the divorce of their parents, which you had wondered about but never brought up, and from the looks of it, it was best not to. From experience, you knew that divorce between is never easy to handle, especially for a child, much less two siblings.

“Oh, um…how are Yeon Jin and Sa-ra doing?” You asked, changing the subject rather abruptly, breaking the silent awkwardness.

Both boys looked at you with rather wide eyes, yet their look wasn’t so surprising, just simply stared as if they had no idea what you were referring to until Heeseung finally answered. “They’re good.”

“Are they coming to the wedding?”

“Maybe….we’ll see.” Heeseung takes a bite of his food before grabbing a napkin and wiping his fingers as he takes another glance over towards Heejeong, who faintly, nods.

………..

Once you all had arrived at the house, you opted to go straight to bed, seeing as you had an early morning.

“Good night.”

“Night sweet thing.” Heeseung issues as you walk up the stairs.

“Let us know if you need anything.” Heejeong adds.

With a quick shower, brushing your teeth and changing, you plopped yourself on the bed and sunk into the feeling of being enveloped by the cool silk sheets.

Resting your eyes, your phone vibrates, indicating an incoming text. Gazing at the message that you had just received, you saw that it was from Kurt, who expressed how good it was to see you again.

“…Hmm…I wonder….” You mentally noted as you came up with an idea and messaged back.

…………………………………………………

The morning of the wedding, you aid your mother with her gown and her veil as she takes her bouquet.

“Oh Y/n, you look so pretty, my girl.” Your mother smiles, admiring the simple, floral midi dress you had on. The coloration of fuchsia and violet bounced off the white background of the satin material, it was the perfect dress to adorn for your mother’s wedding, yet you made her swallow her words as you remarked that the beauty, was her.

“Mama, you look so beautiful. I’m so happy for you.”

Walking her over to the alter, behind the grand double doors, you enter through the side as you walk over towards the front row to find your seat, where the boys had already been waiting.

Breaching up, they were seated at the center of the row. Heejeong’s back was facing you, while Heeseung was seated right next to him, facing your direction. Sitting with his legs loosely crossed and his arm resting atop the backing of the seat rest, leaning in as he spoke quietly to Heejeong, you watched as Heeseung suddenly stops his sentence and gawks the very moment he saw you. Heejeong turns and displays the same reaction.

 It was the first they had seen you all morning, much less in that dress that had everyone swooning over you as they watched you walk up, front and center. You couldn’t lie to yourself, the way the two dashing young men noted and stared at you made your heart skip a beat. They looked so dashing with their black suit and tie, it was almost hard to breathe at the sight of them side by side.

Standing up, Heejeong walks over to you as you remained at the edge of the row. Extending a hand out to you, you gently hold on as he greets you with a flashing smile.

“Well hello there, don’t you look pretty today.”

Leading you to the center of the row, he seats you in the center, right in between him and Heeseung, where your back was met with the latter’s arm as it remained in place atop the back rest.

“Hi.” He flirtatiously issues as he flashes a grin.

“Hi.” You chuckled back and fluttered your eyelashes. You couldn’t help but respond back in a flirtatious manner, the boy had it coming, yet you figured some harmless and minor teasing wouldn’t be too bad, so long as it remained within limitations considering that you were now family, despite not related by blood.

Taking a deep inhale of your perfume, Heeseung slightly groans as he finally exhales out. “You look soooo….beautiful.” His eyes trail down and sets home on your exposed thighs as your dress slightly rides up from your seated stance.

“Thank you. You both look very handsome; I like your suits.” You chuckled as you set your gaze at the podium where the priest was preparing for the ceremony.  

During the ceremony, everyone admired at how beautiful your mother looked with her white gown, and Danny standing across, genuinely smiling in bleak happiness. As they took their vows, you noticed how Heejeong and Heeseung both smiled in your direction. Releasing a chuckle while maintaining your gaze at the bride and groom, you merely used your peripherals to gleam a soft peek at the two boys next to you. Softly placing his hand on your thigh, his thumb gently stroking up and down your skin, Heejeong leans into your ear and whispers, “You would look so pretty in a wedding dress.”

Raising a brow as you gave a nervous smile, you bashfully chuckled quietly as you raised a hand and slightly covered your mouth. It was the most flattering compliment you ever received, too bad it had to come from your stepbrother…at least one of them.

“I don’t think I’d look as pretty as mom though.” You modestly responded back.

“Yeah?.....I beg to differ.” His voice going lower, he whispers right back without missing a beat. His words caused you to look over to him and give a soft smile as your eyes trailed off to the side once you saw his handsome gaze, deeply admiring your face.

Sure, it was obvious to you that your stepbrothers may have thought you were attractive, and they were nice to you, practically at your beck and call if you ever needed them to be, yet still, it was hard to avoid giving in each time they coated you with such kind words. But you knew it was going to have to stop, or at least tone down at some point, and perhaps it will during the banquet….

……………………………

Seated at the beautifully adorned round tables, you noticed the placards resting in front of each chair, drafted in delicate calligraphy were the names of each guest, and just as you had secretly arranged….

“Hey, y/n. I’m finally here, sorry I missed the ceremony, but I’m glad I could make it in now.”

You had invited Kurt, as a manner to introduce him to the family since you had recently decided to give him a chance and accept his offer to begin a relationship.

“Oh no worries, here come and meet my family.” You took him by the hands and brought him over to your mother and Danny first, seeing as your two brothers had excused themselves momentarily from the dining setting and went to the open bar.

“Mom, Danny, this is Kurt. We went to high school together and have recently met up.”

“Oh Kurt! I remember you! My gosh it’s been a while! How are you?” Your mother gasped out as she stood from her seat and greeted Kurt with a welcoming hug.

“I’m good Mrs….um…”

“Lee, it’s Lee.” You whispered.

“Lee! Mrs. Lee.” He laughs out.

“Oh its okay, you can call me *your mom’s name here*. This is Danny, my husband.”

Danny stands and welcomes Kurt with a soft smile and a warm handshake. “It’s so nice to meet you, we’re so glad you could make it.”

“Thank you Sir. Congratulations to you both.” Kurt responds back. Conversing with your mother and Danny, your mother pulls you off to the side faintly and inconspicuously whispers, “are you two dating?” to which you nodded.

“We just started a few days ago, he came back to town and we hit it off really well.” You elaborated as you watched Kurt and Danny converse rather enthusiastically about work and Kurt’s travels.

Walking up were Heeseung and Heejeong. You couldn’t be sure with the frenzy that was crowding around, but it looked as if the two boys had harsh looks on their faces as they took notice of Kurt speaking with Danny.

“Oh gosh….can’t they just let things go for one day and be courteous towards their father? It’s your guy’s wedding day.” You whispered to your mother.

“Shh..I know. Just let it be, Its alright.” Your mother whispers back as she holds your hand and rubs it.

“Boys, come meet Kurt, this is uh....” Danny started, bashfully smiling as he caught himself in a tight spot. Kurt smiled back and extended a hand for a welcoming handshake to Heejeong first.

“Hi there, I’m Kurt.”

Heejeong merely looked down at Kurt’s hand before glaring back up at him….then over to you.

Taking the man’s hand, he shakes it softly, but grips hard. “Nice to meet you, I’m Joey.” Heejeong responds back, faintly smiling.

Kurt remained courteous and a good sport as he extends his hand over to Heeseung, who didn’t look much more pleased than his brother. In fact, the moment Kurt had shifted his hand over, Heeseung had all but then rolled his eyes as he took in Kurt’s introduction with Heejeong.

“Nice to meet you. I’m Kurt.” He says once more, smiling as brightly as ever.

Heeseung’s face was tilted off to the side, slightly leaned back with a flare of rough attitude as his eyes glared in your direction. Rolling his tongue in his mouth, displayed thorugh the slightly parted lips, he takes Kurt by the hand and shakes it while introducing himself.

“Nice to mee you…..I’m Ethan.” His voice just as low, if not, lower than Heejeong’s.

“Wow, twins huh? My cousin just gave birth to twins.” Kurt smiles as he attempts to make small talk with your brothers, who remained stagnant with their strict expressions, barely making eye contact with Kurt, instead, they kept glaring over at you.

You figured they were disappointed that you hadn’t told them about Kurt sooner, though it wasn’t your fault, you had only just began dating him a few days ago, a day after when you had texted him, inviting him to the wedding. The next day you had both went out for coffee after your brothers had dropped you off. Kurt was so very kind that you had felt it would be a missed opportunity if you hadn’t taken up his offer. The moment he held your hand across the table at the café was when you knew that that was the chance to take and begin a relationship anew.

Since there was so much to do in preparations for the nuptials, you spent most of the days helping your mother, leaving you no chance to tell your brothers that you now had a boyfriend. Yet you figured that they would eventually welcome Kurt the more they get to know him, assuming that they were displaying a level of a protective nature as brothers.

“Yeah, so…how do you know y/n? Do you guys work with each other?” Heejeong inquires, glancing a wide eyed look over to you before flashing it back to Kurt.

That look…..it was….

“What the Hell was that?”

You mentally noted the outline of Heejeong’s wide eyes and that rather amusing and yet….eerie look that he had just a second ago as he shifted his sights between you and Kurt.

“Oh well….y/n and I went to high school together a while back. I recently just came back to town and met up with her and….well…we hit it off so we just…you know.” Kurt begins to chuckle as he commits a half turn and glances over to you, smiling.

“….No….I don’t know…..enlighten me.” Heejeong spoke as he crosses his arms.

“Oh, um well…we haven’t made it publicly known yet…but um-“

“We’re dating.” You interjected softly. Crossing your own arms, you issued a stern glance of your own back to your two brothers, who both looked at you unpleasantly with stares of anger and disappointment as their countenance reflected their response to your defiance.

“Oh speaking of which, where is Yeon-jin and Sa-ra?” Danny inquires as he looks over to his twin sons.

“They were busy.” Heeseung remarks, crossing his arms, joining the shared stance that you and Heejeong both committed. A battle of harsh stares was exchanged between the three of you.

“Oh boy….it’s going to be an awkward night at the house….” You noted.

…………………………..

The banquet went along well, aside from you and your brothers hardly speaking to one another, yet that didn’t deter from them looking at you nearly the entire time. Only this time, there were no flashing smiles, no chuckles, no affectionate display of gentleness or humor.

“You want a ride home?” Kurt asks.

“Yeah that’ll be nice.” You respond back, not even caring to glance over to your two new brothers.

……………

“They’ll get over it. I can understand being so protective, but this is absurd.”

……………

Dropping you off, you leaned over for a hug, unexpectedly, Kurt places a soft and quick kiss on your lips. Shocked, you chuckled as he bashfully stares at the steering wheel.

“Sorry….I just…I don’t know…” he laughs.

“It’s okay….” You bit your lip as you chuckled once more. Leaning in, you whispered out. “Should we try again?”

Meeting you halfway, your faces reunite in a gentle motion. He kisses you passionately as he reaches up and cups your face as you rest your elbow on the center console.

“See you tomorrow?” He asks.

“Sure.”  You smiled as you tapped his chin.

Bidding goodbye, you walked into the house. All the lights were off, signifying the boys were asleep in their rooms, which gave you a sense of relief, since you three had split from the wedding banquet in extreme awkwardness, not even saying goodbye to each other. As you walked upstairs, you revisited the idea of possibly looking for your own place, seeing as the boys may present an issue if they don’t check their attitudes in regards to you dating Kurt. You’re a grown woman, how could they not be realistic about you dating? You could understand about them being slightly concerned, yet you knew Kurt for years, not to mention their attitude was uncalled for. Fortunately, it didn’t seem to bother Kurt, or perhaps he didn’t take notice, if he did, he was at least a good sport about it and never mentioned it to you.

Quietly entering your bedroom, you tossed your jacket on the lounge chair and began to unbuckle your heels.

“So…”

Your breath hitched as you turned around to the deep voice that emerged from behind, it was Heeseung. Standing by the door, camouflaged in the shadows as he was still wearing his suit from the wedding, he propped himself against the wall with his arms crossed, only the sliver sheen of light from outside peering through the window, provided the source of light for you to make out just a tad bit of his frame and face.

“Wh-what are you doing?....” you asked, still recovering from the shocked fright he gave you.

“What does it look like I’m doing?”

His attitude irked you, so much that you decided enough was enough.

“Heeseung….what’s your guys deal? I get it we’re family now, but….I’m a grown woman. With that being said, I’m going to start looking for my own place because this is getting out of hand-“

Cutting you off, his sharp tone inhibited you from finishing your thought.

“Come again?....”

“….I said I’m going to be moving out….and that you both need to not act the way you did earlier….”

“Oooh yes….lets talk about that.” Straightening his posture, he uses his foot to push his frame off the wall as he starts walking towards you, with his arms remaining crossed, he leans in….closely, the light glaring through the window closest to you permitted the sight of his face, which had a smirk….but it was far from dashing or handsome, it was rather crazy, sadistic even…..it was twisted and frightening.

“Lets talk….about today…..hmm?.....Princess?”

“…Don’t….dont call me that….in fact, stop with these pet names…”

“Awww…..that right?....BABY?”

Feeling a sudden grab and tug, you felt his hands wrap around your wrist harshly as he pulls you against his body.

“Wh-what are you doing?! Stop!”

“Nuh-uh. Come here, we need to have a little talk, you and I.”

“Stop! Heeseung let go!”

Plastering your frame against his body, he grabs onto your waist and starts to nuzzle his face against the nook of your neck, causing you to gasp as you jumped up from the shocking sensation of his lips sucking on to your skin. Your reaction…didn’t work in your favor, as it allowed him to gain more leverage in pulling you in, leaving no gap between your bodies.

“Stop! Please stop! Stop…l-let go!”

Groaning against your skin, his arm wrapped around you lower back while his hand cuffs your wrist and pins it behind your back, causing your arm to take a bend at the elbow, leaving only your weak arm free to push him away, yet your measly attempts did nothing but pleasantly antagonize him.

“Shhh….come here…..COME HERE.”

Keeping your wrist pinned to your back, he swoops his hand under your thigh and lifts it, fixing it to the hilt of his hip, using brute strength to levitate your body while he simultaneously sits down on the lounge chair, forcing you to sit on his lap, straddling him as he feeds your legs through the loop holes of chair, under the arm rests.

“There….that’s better…..” he calmly speaks against your throat as he brushes his nose upwards, causing you to tilt your head back, exposing your entire neckline.

“Stop! This is wrong! You’re insane, get off!”

Gasping out a breath against the center of your neck, his parted lips gently brushing aginst your skin as he answers.

“Don’t be like that…..haven’t I shown you kindness and affection?....Haven’t I shown just how much I ADORE you?”

“Stop! Let go! There’s something wrong with you!”

“Those are some pretty strong words princess…..are we fighting? Hmm? Tell me…..” placing a hand on your hip, he starts to motion your body to grind against his crotch as he whispers out the last bit. “Are we fighting?”

Kissing your neck and your chest, he takes advantage of the slight plunging neckline your dress displayed and licks the surface of your cleavage. It all felt so….

“Yeah? You like that don’t you? Wanna moan some more?” rubbing your wrist with his thumb, he maintains his hold on you, keeping your strong arm restrained as he increases the momentum of your movements, steering you to move back and forth, up and down, and in circular motions.

“Tell me baby….since we’re fighting…tell me what I gotta do to fix it…tell me.” 

Kissing your neck, moving your hips, whispering his dark and deep tone against your neck, sending the vibrations of his vocal chords to travel all the way down to your gut, you whimpered out as the sensual feeling of his harden member pressing against your core, barely covered by the thin fabric of your panties, was starting to create a euphoric friction that you couldn’t help but surrender to.

“Come on baby…tell me what I gotta do to fix it….so we can get along…”

Rubbing his hands and massaging them on your waistline, he finally releases your strong arm, only it was too late….for you.

Already too deep in, your body yearned and craved more, yet your mind remained strong.

“S-stop……oh God please…..stop.”

“No princess….dont think I will……I don’t think you want me to…..that’s okay because that’s what I’m here for…..”

Raising the hem of our dress up, pulling your straps down, he rolls the material of your slinky dress to collect around your waist as he exposes as much of your body as he possibly could. Loosening his tie, he uses one hand to start unbuttoning his shirt, all the while his other hand kept steering your motions at the hip.

“Boyfriend hasn’t touched you yet…has he?” he whispers against your skin. “I can tell…its obvious its been a while since you’ve had it…..”

Kissing your lips, you felt yourself melting into him as his hands kept roaming. He pulled, dipped, pushed, and rolled your hips into motions that the depths of the ocean couldn’t compare to. Succumbing to the overwhelming pleasures of your body uniting with his, you moaned out in shaking pleasure, while speaking the words that still lingered in your mind, though it was barely there as you felt yourself losing after a sensational rush of moisture gushes out from your walls, your clit throbbing with desire. Still...you gave it your last shot....

“Oh my God…please….please don’t….mmm...Heeseung.....ugh.”

“Come on baby….lets get along....hm?..…..let me beat it up and kiss it better for you....let me say sorry to it with my tongue. Let me fix it for you.” releasing a prolonged sigh against your skin, he chuckles out a low and dark tone, as he spoke out again....

“Let me fix it."

CHAPTER 6

Authors Notes: Weeeelllll, shits about to get real from here on out folks. ;)

Taglist: @deobitifull; @solstramaii; @vampiregirl215; @nshmrarki; @enhypen14; @iamliacamila; @lisaaannna; @nikstrange; @jaehaki; @luv-enhy-skz33; @silcry@honeysjae; @crackedcameraa; @stinkmonkey ; @baekxo07@raishaii@yangjungwon33 @lhspeachie ; @differentchildwombat ; @prettykia ; @kimsseonu ; @stvrryhee ; @en-thralled ; @hoonzdzbl ; @yuppppp ; @jinniespuppy ; @browsehnnie @prettykia @lprww @they2luv1naia @ellixqz@mimimovv @stvrryhee @moonmoongi @seungjiseyo @csmicvrse @yohanabanana

[genderequalitys]

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[spiceandtealeaves]

India is just a guy to me, his opinions might suck but he cares about you in an old grandpa sorta way. He cares about everyone he meets. If he sees someone alone, he’ll go up to them and talk about their greatest joys. He’ll go up to tourists and talk to them about great places nearby. He goes to elderly people’s houses but also keeps up with the college kids. He talks to the local street vendors to the fancy restaurants, local politicians to the big ones. India has a community of people who care all around him I think, I think it’s just a part of who he is. It’s part of his identity