My uncle’s old harmonium needs a new bellows, same as our roof needs new tiles before the rains. But some fixes bring joy faster than money – like finally seeing our boys lift that trophy. Eight seasons of waiting just made the biryani taste sweeter last night.

On Sunday mornings, my harmonium pulls the whole mohalla together—neighbors sipping chai on balconies, humming old Rafi songs. But these days, parents rush kids from tuition to tuition, forgetting that the best siksha starts at home, with grandmothers singing folk ragas. We chase English medium schools but let our own roof leak; the fix isn't in some new policy, it's in slowing down and listening to what the elders already taught us. 💕