Chapter 3: Homework Under Fairy Lights

Back home, my parents sat on the sofa watching the Diwali special, while I did English homework at the dining table.

The echo of laughter from the TV seeped into my corner, where I hunched over my books, the steady whir of the ceiling fan and the distant pop of crackers reminding me of everything I was missing out on. Our living room, decorated with strings of marigold and flickering diyas, felt like a cage tonight.

It was supposed to be a joyful family moment, but the lively music and festive atmosphere had nothing to do with me. All I saw were endless rows of vocabulary words.

My back ached, the scratchy edge of the dining chair pressing into my legs. I pressed my palms to my cheeks, wishing I could trade places with anyone else, just for a little while.

I tried to memorise them, but couldn't focus at all. Tears dripped onto the page.

Each word blurred into the next, the ink smudging as droplets fell, the page becoming a quiet witness to my despair.

Dad noticed my shoulders shaking. "Ananya, why are you crying?"

His gentle tone was so unexpected that it broke what little strength I had left. The background laugh track on the TV sounded cruelly out of place.

If he hadn't asked, maybe I could have held it in. But once he did, I couldn't stop sobbing: "You promised to let me sleep at Mausi's. Why can't I go now?"

My voice cracked, echoing off the tiled floor. I pressed my sleeves to my eyes, wishing I could disappear.

"You promised—why did you lie?"

The accusation slipped out, unfiltered, raw and desperate. My father looked helpless, glancing anxiously at Mummy, as if searching for a lifeline.

Dad was at a loss, sneaking a look at Mummy. In our family, Mummy's word is law. I can't disobey her, and neither can he.

He tried to pat my hand under the table but withdrew quickly, as if Mummy’s glare could burn through the glass-topped table.

Mummy saw I was on the verge of breaking down, but still acted superior: "Ananya, you just want to go to Mausi's to play on your phone. Don't think I don't know. Crying is useless—you aren't going anywhere tonight."

Her voice was softer but unyielding, the finality in her words slamming the door on any hope. I felt my resolve crumble.

My heart throbbed with pain, and my tears fell even harder as I gripped my pen.

I scribbled and erased, smearing the blue ink, my fingers cramped from holding on too tightly. The ache in my chest was sharper than any scolding.

I didn't dare let go, didn't dare rebel. If I did, she'd start yelling, tearing down what little dignity and confidence I had left.

The memories of her loud, echoing shouts—the ones that made the neighbours glance up from their balconies—froze me into obedience.

So I could only endure.

I pressed my lips together, feeling the silent sobs shake my body. I kept my eyes down, focusing on the page, as if the right answers could save me.

Just then, the doorbell rang. Mausi stood calmly at the door.

A gust of cool air followed her in, her bright smile unwavering even in the face of Mummy’s tight-lipped scowl. Her presence filled the flat with the energy of a Diwali sparkler.

"I'm here to wait for Ananya. When she finishes her homework, I'll take her to my house."

She leaned on the doorframe, her shopping bag dangling from her wrist, her confidence radiating like the glow of a diya.

Before Mummy could refuse, Mausi walked straight into my room with her big shopping bag: "Ananya, I brought your new kurta and pyjamas. Take your time—Mausi will wait right here."

She perched herself on my bed, humming a filmy tune, pretending not to notice Mummy’s protests. Her eyes met mine, full of encouragement.

Since Mummy had broken her promise, she had no choice but to accept Mausi's proposal.

The tension in the air was thick enough to cut with a knife, but Mausi’s patience won out. Mummy sat in the living room, her arms folded, defeated but still dignified.

Suddenly I came back to life, wiped away my tears, and wrote furiously as if I'd been injected with energy. Finally, at 11:20 p.m., I finished my English homework and became the only student in my class to submit the assignment.

The adrenaline of freedom powered my pen. I double-checked every answer, then uploaded the assignment on WhatsApp, heart pounding with relief and triumph.

"Ananya, your English teacher will definitely think you're the best kid."

Mummy was satisfied and let Mausi take me away.

I caught Mausi’s wink as she handed me my overnight bag. Mummy simply nodded, her face unreadable. The faintest smile tugged at Mausi’s lips as we stepped out into the cool, firework-scented air.

I got into the lift without looking back at Mummy.

The metal doors closed with a soft ding, separating me from her scrutiny, even if just for a night. I exhaled, finally free.

She had no idea—I never wanted to be the best kid. I just wanted to be like everyone else, an ordinary child, a child who could happily celebrate Diwali.

As the lift rattled down, I pressed my forehead to the cool wall, dreaming of a world where scores didn’t matter, where happiness wasn’t rationed.