You're pedalling hard down the lane behind your apartment, dodging puddles from last night's rain, when you hear a sickening hiss. Your front tire has caught a shard of broken glass near the construction site, and within seconds the rim is grinding against wet tarmac.

You pull over next to the old banyan tree where the neighbourhood uncles play cards, your stomach sinking as you realize this bike is your lifeline — without it, reaching your customers across Koramangala and Indiranagar takes three times as long.

The puncture-wallah at the corner of 80 Feet Road says it'll cost $15 for a full replacement because the tube is shredded beyond a simple patch. You crouch beside your lopsided bicycle, sweat dripping down your face, counting the cash in your pocket. Every dollar matters right now.