Aditya

A postcard sold at every hill post office: tonight's date, a blank star chart, and 'I saw this sky from the Nilgiris.' You fill in what you saw and post it to someone in a city.

A fix-my-footpath sprint: one ward, one weekend, one repo — bugs filed like potholes, closed like tickets.

A drawer-amnesty weekend at every outlet: bring your dead phones and cables, leave with a native sapling per kilo.