Rohan, on a Zoom call with his mute button miraculously on, whispers, “Check the dryer.”

Rohan locks the front door, checking it twice. Kavya turns off the kitchen light. Aaji is already in bed, the TV murmuring a devotional bhajan at low volume. Anya is asleep, still wearing one sock. Rohan pulls the blanket over her. Kavya leans against the doorframe. They don’t say “I love you” in grand Hollywood style. Instead, Rohan asks, “Extra pickle tomorrow?”

Kavya smiles. “Only if you buy the good brand.”

“We don’t have a dryer, Papa.”

The day doesn’t begin with an alarm in the Sharma household. It begins with the caw of a crow on the kitchen windowsill. Aaji believes feeding the first crow of the day brings ancestors’ blessings. She crumbles a leftover roti and throws the pieces while sipping her first, gritty filter coffee. In the bedroom, Kavya is already packing three different tiffin boxes: leftover poha for Rohan, a cheese sandwich for Anya (who suddenly hates poha ), and a small container of cut mangoes for herself.

Aaji laughs, revealing a missing molar. “Then you’ll need a lot of energy. Go tell your mother to make chai .”