Bhabhi | Chut

6:00 AM. I don’t need an alarm clock. I have my mother-in-law.

My husband is searching for the "missing" left sock. My eight-year-old, Priya, is negotiating five more minutes of sleep (spoiler: she never wins). And my father-in-law is already on the balcony, watering his marigolds and loudly discussing the price of tomatoes with the neighbor three floors down. bhabhi chut

We walk. We eat bhel puri from the food court. The kids run around the toy store without buying anything. Grandfather falls asleep on a bench in the sun. We call it "enjoyment." And honestly? It is. Dinner is served late—usually around 9:00 PM. And it is never a quiet affair. My husband will be on a work call, holding his phone between his ear and shoulder while trying to eat a roti with one hand. Priya will be explaining why she needs a YouTube channel (the answer is no). And my father-in-law will offer unsolicited advice about the stock market based on a newspaper he read in 1998. 6:00 AM