Tonight, we are celebrating my son passing his math exam (scoring 35 out of 50 is a big deal here). We ordered pani puri from the corner stall. My daughter shared a reel with her grandmother, who now understands what "ghungroo" sounds like on Instagram. We didn't go out to a fancy restaurant. We just lived—loudly and together.
While the house falls quiet, the neighborhood outside wakes up. The Sabzi-wala (vegetable vendor) pushes his cart down the lane, his melodic cry of "Aloo-Pyaaz!" echoing against the apartment walls. Kavita steps onto the balcony to haggle—a sport she has perfected over a decade. She picks the freshest spinach and tomatoes, knowing exactly which ones will make the best dinner.