Arjun wasn’t a mechanic. He was a farmer. But when you own a VST 130 DI for twelve seasons, you learn that the machine has a soul, and like any soul, it has parts that break first.

Arjun returned home as the sky turned orange. He spent an hour fitting the new clutch cable, tightening the oil seal, replacing the tines. Raghu held the flashlight, even though it wasn’t dark yet.

He closed the list. He patted the tiller’s mudguard. Tomorrow, the field would be wet, the paddy was waiting, and a man with a good spare parts list never fears the dawn.

By noon, the sun was brutal. Arjun’s neighbor, old Bhimsen, walked over. “Still broken?” he asked, chewing tobacco.

At 7:13 PM, Arjun pulled the starter cord. Chug-chug-chug-CHAK-CHAK-CHAK-CHAK. Shakti roared to life. The sound vibrated through his ribs.