#TradeStories

Every morning, Ravi opened his roadside tea stall at 5 a.m., the clink of cups echoing against the rising sun. His hands, once calloused from wielding a welding torch, now brewed the perfect chai. After the factory shut down, he’d traded sparks for steam. Regulars came for tea but stayed for his stories—tales of machines, laughter, and survival. “Life’s a trade,” he’d say, “sometimes by choice, sometimes by force.” But in that tiny stall, amidst the aroma of cardamom and ginger, Ravi found dignity not in what he lost—but in what he built next.