By 5 PM, the house reawakens. The pressure cooker whistles again—evening snack time. *Pakoras* (fritters) with *chai* are a sacred pairing. Children spill in from school, dropping bags and demanding *bhel* or biscuits. The father returns home, loosening his tie, immediately drawn to the newspaper and the TV remote, which is already claimed by the grandmother watching her soap opera.
Inside, the air smells like roasted cumin and steam. Meena is at the stove, her bangles clinking against the rolling pin as she shapes perfect circles of wheat dough. "Aarav, get up! Your bus won't wait because you stayed up playing games!" she calls out. By 5 PM, the house reawakens