"By 6:30 AM, the water is heated. My father does his yoga on the balcony—he calls it 'pranayama,' but it looks like heavy breathing to me. My mother is packing my tiffin. She still packs a 'dry subzi' and four chapatis, even though I told her I’m on a keto diet. You cannot win that argument. By 7:15 AM, the fight for the bathroom begins. My sister locks it for 40 minutes. I have learned to brush my teeth in the kitchen sink."

Indian family life is not a schedule; it is a symphony of overlapping sounds, smells, and the unspoken knowledge that you never truly belong to yourself. You belong to the khandaan (clan). And somehow, despite the chaos, that is the greatest luxury of all.

The Seviyan (sweet vermicelli) is cooked. The hugging of relatives (the "embrace of peace") resets past grievances. The new kurta is ironed three times.