BUSY BEES | Honey, It's Money!

"Everybody continues to come to Bangalore'', said the lady, looking at the broadsheet, "even in these difficult times''. Her hubby said, "Maybe, it's for the money, honey!'' The lady put down the paper and absent-mindedly looked out, at the large beehive on the nearby tree branch. And let out a shriek. To her horror, a youngster had shinnied up the pavement tree, and was now waving a smouldering stick at the beehive. "Oh, my goodness! What's that urchin doing?'' she cried in alarm, "The brat's dangerously close to harm''. "Maybe she's hunting the beehive!'' said the hubby, who knew a thing or two about forest-dwellers who did this for a living. Sensing trouble, he quickly dialled other residents to warn them. The lady took the stairs, two at a time, asking everyone to shut windows and doors. In the mayhem, a pretty youngster in what looked like fancy dress gear red ghagra, choli with mirror-work had stolen past the security guard and bumped into the waving and ranting lady. Breathlessly, the girl tried to get the lady's attention and say something. It was in a language, not of the city or state. It was sounds from afar something rustic, a dialect from the desert.
Could it be possible? The distraught lady wondered, as her BP came down a notch or two. This impertinent little horror, reeking of uncommon smells, of farms and camels, is telling me that the beehive will be removed, and that we should remain calm? The girl was pointing to the tree. "Oh, my goodness'', the lady cried. It was too late. The climber was already at the beehive. A few minutes later the beehive was gone. By the time residents came down to investigate, the climber, seemingly unscathed, and her accomplice had made short work of the large hive. The young duo, now dressed in identical outfits, was squatting outside on the pavement amidst a group of people, with plastic bucket and plastic bottles, squeezing and dispensing the thick syrupy liquid. Hundred rupees a bottle. "It's a steal at that price'', enthused a shop assistant, holding up her purchase like it was a trophy. A long time ago, in the lively `Canterbury Tales', Chaucer famously compared active, enterprising women to busy bees. Did he by any chance have in mind young girls in ghagra, choli working honey for money in the IT city?