Penury has a million manifestations. For instance, you go to an auto repair shop, when it is raining hard, to fix a wiper that wipes only 20 percent of your windshield; that too on the diver's side.
You are told it would cost you $35 just to check it out. In case, the wiper blade or the whole wiper mount requires replacement, it would be more. It could easily cost you upto $70. So you leave the shop with a hangdog look letting lose a series of choice invectives under your breath. You curse both yourself and your penury. "मैं और मेरी पेन्युरी ये अक्सर बातें करतें हैं," you say in a sorry attempt to amuse yourself out of the pathetic jam.
Then you reach the car and look at the wiper with disgust and ponder what you should do. If you were me--actually you here were always me--you clench your fist, punch the blade mount on the saddle hard. Twice or thrice depending on your disgust and anger at penury.
You get into the car and start it along with the wipers. And bingo! The wiper on the driver's side begins working perfectly well.
I have not been able to understand why so many devices, including the transistor radio in the 1960s and 70s, television sets in the 1980s and 1990s and perhaps even now, respond so favorably to a punch or a kick or two. This is almost a universal phenomenon on the planet. Old machines in particular are known to fix themselves, at least for a while, when kicked and punched. I am not fit enough to raise my leg and kick the windshield wiper. Otherwise I would have done that too.
I know exactly what happened in the particular case of my wiper. The saddle had bent in such a way that nearly 80 percent of the rubber was not touching the glass. After I punched it in its face it flattened making the whole rubber come into ful contact.
I can see so well in the rain now that I even see things that do not exist.