In the small garden of a modest house, Chooty Malli was peacefully sipping a cup of ginger tea. He was halfway through a deep thought about why mangoes fall down instead of up when Podi Malli burst through the front gate, waving two slips of paper like they were burning his fingers.
"Both! It’s a double attack!" Podi Malli collapsed into a plastic chair, staring at the numbers on the bills as if they were written in an ancient, cursed language. "Look at the electricity bill. Did we start a factory overnight? Did you leave the iron on for three days? Or did the fridge decide to host a party for all the other appliances in the neighborhood?" In the small garden of a modest house,
"See?" Chooty Malli said, leaning back and picking up his cold tea. "I told you my thoughts were bright. I knew all along it wasn't our bill." It’s a double attack
"We must take drastic measures," Chooty Malli declared, standing tall. "From now on, we live like the ancestors. No lights. We sleep when the sun goes down. We wash only with the morning dew. We will save every cent!" Did you leave the iron on for three days
"You idiots," the neighbor gasped. "These aren't yours. Look at the address! These belong to the big villa at the end of the lane. The postman must have swapped them in his rush."