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This is my favorite part of the day. The prodigal family returns. The smell of rain on hot asphalt (if it’s summer) or the fog (if it’s winter) fills the balcony. The kids throw their bags down. Arjun walks in, loosens his tie, and asks the universal Indian question: "Chai hai?" (Is there tea?)

If you ever visit an Indian home, don’t expect Pinterest perfection. Expect a slightly chipped teacup, a story about the time the power went out during a cricket match, and a grandmother forcing you to eat a third serving of dessert. www.savita bhabhi.com

At 10:30, after Mumma and Dadaji have gone to bed, Arjun and I get 15 minutes of quiet. We sit on the kitchen floor (yes, the floor—it’s a desi thing), eating leftover mithai (sweet) from the fridge, talking about bills, dreams, and that funny thing the neighbor said. This is my favorite part of the day

We sit as a family. The kids tell us about a fight in the playground. Mumma complains that the maid didn't show up. I show Arjun a meme. Dadaji (grandfather) turns up the volume on the evening news about rising onion prices. The kids throw their bags down

The Dabbawala (tiffin carrier) arrives for Arjun's lunch. The vegetable vendor calls at 2 PM. The milkman comes at 3:30. Life runs on "Indian Stretchable Time"—which means everything happens eventually, just not when you planned.