The day begins not with the alarm clock, but with the silent list ticking inside the mind. As the sky barely shifts from black to blue, a parent is already halfway through the mental prep today’s lunch needs extra attention: a school tiffin, a work dabba, something healthy, something the kids won’t complain about.
The kitchen lights flick on, the gas stove flares up, and the day officially begins with the clang of pots, the sizzle of spices, and the rhythmic chopping of vegetables. Between stirring the dal and flipping the parathas, there’s a constant check on time. The clock becomes a constant companion, the school van doesn’t wait, and neither does the hunger of a growing child.
Somewhere in the background, a voice yells, “Where are my socks?” or “My project file!” — and without skipping a beat, a parent responds mid-roti flip. The day passes in sprints a quick breakfast here, office work or errands there, managing home logistics like a silent project manager with no off-switch.
But everything eventually funnels down to that one evening routine that makes or breaks the peace: the study hour.
As the sun sets and dinner simmers, the real test begins. Books open, pencils sharpened, doubts flow in some from textbooks, some from life.
The parent is now a teacher, a cheerleader, a strict invigilator, and sometimes a patient philosopher repeating, explaining, encouraging, correcting.
Only when the final question is solved, when the reading is done, and when a tiny voice says “I understood that!” with a grin of confidence that’s when the day ends. A small, satisfied smile replaces the tired one.
The teachings for the day are done, not just the academic ones, but lessons in patience, consistency, and care. And as the lights go off and the home slips into silence, the parent finally rests ready to do it all again, starting at the stove, one sunrise later.
words panorama 