Where Mornings Smell Like Home
Saxena Residence
Suburban Mumbai
Morning arrived gently in the Saxena house—not with authority, but with routine.
Sunlight filtered , through lace curtains and settling gently on the pale blue walls of the sister's room ,painting the shared bedroom in soft gold.
Books lay stacked neatly on one side of the table, while the other was a battlefield of notebooks, hair clips, and a phone buzzing relentlessly.
Saanvi was already awake.
She sat cross-legged on her bed, hair tied in a loose braid, scrolling through her phone while stealing glances at the human lump on the other side of bed.
Her younger sister—Ishani (20)—was buried under a blanket like the world owed her five more hours of sleep.
Saanvi sighed, leaned over, and shook her shoulder.
“Uth ja, ishu,” she said softly, nudging her sister. “College ke liye late ho rahi ho.”
No response
Ishu,” she murmured, nudging the blanket-covered figure on the bed.
She tried again, louder. “Ishani Saxena, agar tu abhi nahi uthi na—”
A muffled groan came from beneath the blanket and and turned her face into the pillow.
“Five minutes,” Ishani’s sleepy voice pleaded. “Please, diii.”
Saanvi sighed and nudged again "uth na late ho ra h , five minute five minute bolke ke pure pachas ghante laga diye , college bhi to Jana h"
Ishani groaned again “Saanvi please… aaj bunk maar lete hain. Education is overrated.”
Saanvi laughed, tugging the blanket away. “Maa ke saamne yeh dialogue mat bol dena. Zinda nahi bachegi.”
As if summoned by the words—
“SAANVI! ISHANI!”
Their mother’s voice echoed from the kitchen.
“Uth gaye ho ya main paani leke aaoon?”
Ishani shot upright instantly hair exploding in all directions
““Maa uth gayi!” she yelled back, panic-stricken.
Saanvi burst out laughing.
Saanvi stood in front of mirror i a simple pastel kurti, cotton and comfortable, paired with white leggings. No heavy jewellery—just tiny silver studs and a thin watch on her wrist.
Saanvi paused for a second, looking at her reflection.
Calm eyes. Quiet strength.
She wasn’t striking in a way that demanded attention—her beauty lived in softness.
Her skin held a natural warmth, untouched by makeup most days.
She slung her bag over her shoulder and exited the room.
In dining hall
The kitchen smelled of freshly made parathas and brewed tea. Their mother moved efficiently between the stove and the counter, her saree pallu tucked neatly at her waist.
From the kitchen came the familiar sounds—steel utensils clinking, the pressure cooker hissing, and their mother’s voice cutting through everything.
“Saanvi! Ishani! Kitni baar bulana padega? Breakfast thanda ho raha hai!”
“Aa rahe hain, Maa!” Saanvi called back automatically.
Their father sat at the dining table, glasses perched low on his nose, newspaper spread wide.His expression was calm, disciplined—like the man himself.
He hummed softly, occasionally shaking his head at some headline.
“Aajkal ki duniya bhi na…” he muttered.
Breakfast was simple and warm—aloo parathas, curd, and pickle.
"Good morning, Papa,” Saanvi greeted.
He folded the paper slightly and nodded.
“Good morning. College aaj bhi time pe?”
“Haan,” she replied. “Masters ka lecture hai.”
Her mother turned.
“Breakfast kar ke jaana. Bahar ka kuch nahi.”
“Yes, Maa.”
Ishani shuffled in behind her, hair in a messy bun.
“Good morning,” she said, yawning.
Their father glanced up.
“Phone kam use karo raat ko. Dark circles aa rahe hain.”
Ishani groaned.
“Papa!”
Saanvi hid her smile, passing her sister a plate.
Breakfast passed in familiar silence—warm, ordinary, safe.
After wasting ,Saanvi packed her bag neatly, tucking a notebook carefully inside.
I’ll leave now,” she said.
“I’ll drop you,” her father said immediately, standing.
She hesitated for half a second, then nodded.
“Okay.”
The drive to college was quiet. Traffic moved slowly. The radio played an old song softly.
“Papa,” Saanvi spoke after a moment, careful.
“College trip announce hui hai.”
Her father’s grip on the steering wheel tightened—just slightly.
“Where?”
“South Mumbai.”
Silence.
“Everyone’s going,” she added gently. “Faculty bhi honge.”
He didn’t reply immediately.
She looked out of the window, heart heavy but composed. She had learned long ago—some conversations required patience, not pressure.
“We’ll talk at home,” he said finally.
She nodded.
“Ji.”
At college
College was a different universe.
Louder. Faster. Brighter.
Saanvi had barely walked through the gate when a familiar voice screeched—
“SAANVIIII!”
Her best friend Ananya came charging toward her, bag swinging dangerously.
“Tu late hai! Main bore ho rahi thi!”
Saanvi laughed. “Tu toh har waqt bored hoti hai.”
They linked arms and walked toward class.
Did you hear—” “South Mumbai trip—” “Three days—”
Ananya leaned in, eyes sparkling.
"Yeahh" SAANVI replied softly.
Oho,” Ananya grinned. “Mood serious lag raha hai. Trip wali baat?”
Saanvi sighed.
“Tumhe kaise pata?”
“Face pe likha hota hai.”
Saanvi swallowed. “Meri family…”
Ananya groaned dramatically. “Yaar tu har baar yahi bolti hai. Is baar toh permission leke hi jaayegi.
"emotional atyachar?” Ananya suggested
Saanvi laughed softly.
“Papa ka mood samajhna mushkil hota hai. I don’t want to argue.Main unse lad ke nahi jans chahti.”saanvi said softly.
Classes passed in a blur.
Evening came faster than expected.
At home, Saanvi helped her mother in the kitchen, heart pounding.
After dinner, she finally spoke "Papa… college ki trip ?”
Her father studied her face—calm, honest, hopeful.
“Zaroori hai?”
“Haan.” Her voice didn’t waver.
A long pause.
Then—“Theek hai.”
Saanvi blinked. “Kya?”
“Theek hai. Lekin time pe updates, samjhi?”
Her face lit up like someone had handed her a dream.
“Thank you Papa.”
That night, the sisters’ room was dim, lit only by the yellow glow of a bedside lamp.
Ishani lay on her stomach, chin resting on her hands, watching Saanvi pace the room with her phone clutched tightly.
“Tu smile kyun kar rahi hai?” Ishani asked suspiciously.
Saanvi stopped, tried to look normal. Failed.
“Papa ne haan bol diya.”
Ishani sat up so fast she almost fell off the bed.
“KYA?! South Mumbai wali trip?!”
“Shhh! Maa sun legi.” Saanvi whispered, laughing.
Ishani grabbed her pillow and hugged it. “Meri badi behen finally zinda jeene jaa rahi hai. Miracle ho gaya.”
Saanvi rolled her eyes. “Zyada drama mat kar.”
They settled back onto their beds.
For a moment, there was comfortable silence.
Then Ishani spoke, softer this time.
“Didi… tujhe kabhi darr nahi lagta?”
Saanvi turned her head. “Kis baat ka?”
“Sabka khayal rakhte-rakhte… apna bhool jaane ka.”
Saanvi’s smile faded slightly. She stared at the ceiling.
“Lagta hai. Par Papa ka trust hai na… usko todne ka darr zyada dar hai.”
Ishani turned toward her, eyes serious.
“Tu bahut achhi hai, pata hai na?”
Saanvi chuckled. “Achhi ya boring?”
“Achhi. Strong. Aur thodi si pagal.”
That night, lying on her bed, lights off, eyes open—She imagined tall buildings, sea breeze, glowing roads.
South Mumbai.
Unaware that the city she was dreaming of was already watching her.
Waiting.
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Yours
Duskyglow
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