Sita checked her watch. She was thirty minutes late. Her mother-in-law, Kaveri, had already called twice.
She could imagine the sharp tone waiting for her at home: The school ends at four, doesn’t it?
Kaveri knew what was keeping Sita at school where she is working as a temporary teacher.
Nevertheless, Kaveri expected Sita to be home two minutes after school ended as if she could magically appear at the doorstep. The six-kilometer bus ride, the ten-minute walk from the stand—none of it seemed to exist in Kaveri’s world.
Most days, staying back irritated Sita. Not that she could ever say it out loud. Not to her mother-in-law, nor to anyone else who had “Then you should quit the job” ready at the tip of their tongue.
Sometimes, Sita just thought that she had to work harder than others to prove herself that she deserved her place in this elite school. No fancy degree, no glowing recommendations, just her own effort holding her spot. She told herself it was only a matter of time. Soon, she wouldn’t have to stay late entering attendance or chaperoning kids’ rehearsals. Maybe, one day, they would stop seeing her as an outsider.
However, staying late today didn’t feel like such a chore for Sita.
She had company, after all. A very interesting one.
“Are you not bored sitting idle like this?”
The question came from five-year-old Lavanya—Lav, as she insisted people close to her call her.
Sita glanced at the child, amused. Lav was bent over her notebook, her pencil moving across the page with intense focus. She hadn’t even lifted her head to ask the question.
Sita waited, knowing curiosity would eventually make Lav look up. Sure enough, after a beat, Lav frowned and glanced up.
“So? What were you thinking about?”
Sita laughed, feeling a strange sense of déjà vu. “Your father used to ask me the same question.”
Lav’s frown shifted to wide-eyed interest. “Did he?” She leaned forward, resting her elbows on her notebook. “When?”
Sita smiled wide. Until recently, she didn’t know how much talking about Devan and invariably her old self made her feel positive.
“When we were about your age,” Sita said. “Your father was always doing something like running around, starting little projects. I could sit for hours listening to him talk about things I had never seen.”
“Like what?”
Sita only thought for a moment before replying. “Like Pizza.”
Lav gasped. “Pizza? That’s so normal!”
“Not to me,” Sita said.
Lav kept waiting for Sita to explain more. But, when she didn’t, she went back to her homework leaving back Sita with her first bite of Pizza.
When she earned her first salary from her part-time job, the first thing she wanted to try was pizza. It was something she had heard so much about, she was certain she already loved it.
Looking back now, Sita wondered just how much of her present aspirations traced back to Devan’s influence. Maybe that’s why reconnecting with him felt like slipping into a familiar rhythm.
Within a breath, Sita could slip back into those beautiful memories.
Devan’s mother worked in an office, something rare for the women Sita had known. Of course, her own mother had a job too. She worked as a housekeeper in Devan’s apartment. But there was something different about Devan’s mother. She had an aura Sita was unfamiliar with but was truly mesmerized.
Devan was always restless, never one to sit still. If he wasn’t reading, he was explaining things to Sita. Even though he was two years younger, he seemed to know so much about how cars worked, how money was made, and why the moon followed them when they walked.
But it was his mother who truly fascinated Sita. She never raised her voice, yet people listened when she spoke. She carried herself with a kind of effortless grace. Her saree was always perfectly draped, the pallu pinned neatly behind her shoulder. There was a certainty in the way she moved, a quiet confidence that made her untouchable.
Years later, when Sita began pinning her own saree the same way, it felt like more than just a habit. It felt like holding on to a piece of that strength.
Even though she had lost touch after Devan and their family left the city, reconnecting with Devan had been easy.
When he showed up to pick Lav up one day, Sita had been caught off guard. He still smiled the same way he used to, relaxed, steady.
“Sita?” His eyes narrowed in recognition. “It’s really you?”
The school had asked Sita to wait with Lavanya every Monday and Friday since Devan had late meetings. At first, she resented the extra task. But now that she knew Lav was Devan’s daughter, she didn’t mind.
Lavanya was a wonderful child. Wise for her age and as curious as her father. It felt like Sita had traveled back to the time when they were almost friends. Even though they went to the same school, their friendship was unlikely in an ideal world.
Nevertheless, Sita took up this extra work happily. She looked forward to her bi-weekly meet-up with Lavanya.
Sita returned home late. She barely had time to take off her shoes before Kaveri’s voice cut through the air.
“It’s nearly seven! Where have you been?”
“There was extra work at school,” Sita said, stepping inside. From the bedroom, she could hear Malathi’s giggles.
“Extra work every day! What kind of job is this? And poor Malathi fell today while playing. Her knee is scraped. If you had been here—”
Sita’s heart clenched. “Is she okay?” She moved toward the bedroom.
“She’s fine now. Ramesh put some antiseptic,” Kaveri said, trailing behind her. “But that’s not the point. A mother should be—”
“Let her rest, Amma,” Ramesh’s voice came from the kitchen. He walked in, handing Sita a glass of water. “She’s been working all day.”
Kaveri pursed her lips but said nothing more. Sita took the water, giving Ramesh a small, grateful smile.
Malathi sat cross-legged on the bed, inspecting the Band-Aid on her knee. The moment she spotted Sita, she bounced up.
“Amma! I fell at Priya’s house! Look!” She pointed to her bandaged knee, her voice filled with pride as if the scrape were some kind of medal.
Sita sat beside her, gently touching her leg. “Oh no! Does it hurt?”
Malathi shook her head. “Not anymore. Appa put medicine.” Then, her excitement dimmed, replaced by a quiet seriousness. “Amma, when will you pick me up from school? Priya’s mom always picks her up.”
The words lodged themselves in Sita’s chest. She forced a smile. “I have to work, kanna. That’s why Paati picks you up.”
“But I want you to pick me up,” Malathi pouted.
Before Sita could respond, Kaveri spoke from the doorway, her voice heavy with meaning.
“See? The child needs her mother. Not some stranger’s children at that school.”
Sita’s stomach tightened.
The guilt.
Sita couldn’t place the blame solely on her mother-in-law for planting it in her. In some ways, she had let it take root herself. Or maybe it was inevitable. This is how the society functioned. Even her own mother, who had juggled two jobs when Sita was a child, had sided with her mother-in-law.
“Maybe you’d be a better mother with a more flexible job,” her mother had said in passing.
Wasn’t she a good mother now? Sita was too afraid to ask the question out loud, too afraid of what the answer might be.
“Are you okay?”
Her husband Ramesh’s voice pulled her back. He stood near the doorway, watching her clutch her bag, frozen mid-step. His smile was gentle, tinged with concern.
She nodded, unsure how to react.
The following Monday, Sita found herself once again waiting with Lavanya after school. This time, she had brought some worksheets to grade while Lavanya worked on her homework.
“Ms. Sita,” Lavanya called, her pencil pausing mid-stroke. “Do you have children?”
“Yes, a daughter. She’s four.”
“Where is she now?”
“With her grandmother. I pick her up after work.”
Lavanya nodded thoughtfully. “I don’t have a mother. She died when I was a baby.”
Sita looked up, caught off guard by the matter-of-fact way Lavanya said it. “I’m sorry to hear that, Lavanya.”
The girl simply shrugged and returned to her homework. Sita sat there, uncertain. She had always assumed Lavanya had a mother, probably one as busy with work as she was.
“Do you miss her?” The question slipped out before Sita could stop herself. Immediately, regret settled in. Was it too intrusive to ask a five-year-old something like that?
Lavanya lifted her head and stared at Sita as if weighing the question. Finally, she shrugged. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to miss.”
Sita hadn’t expected that answer. But the more she thought about it, the more sense it made. How could the girl miss someone she had never known?
“Is your daughter sad when you are at work?” Lavanya asked
Sita hadn’t expected that question. “Sometimes,” she admitted. “She wants me to pick her up from school like the other mothers do.”
Lavanya nodded as if she understood completely. “Dad says work is important too. He says he works hard so I can have a good life.” She looked up and added, “Maybe your daughter will understand when she’s older, like me.”
Sita gave her only a forced smile.
Sita watched the interaction with quiet fascination.
“Dad’s here!” Lavanya announced, spotting Devan at the door.
“Ready for some grocery shopping before heading home?” he asked, loosening his tie.
Lavanya nodded enthusiastically, already stuffing her books into her bag. As they walked toward the parking lot, Devan chatted with her about the grocery list as if she had any real opinion on the difference between corn flour and rice flour.
Sita couldn’t help but observe. When Lavanya insisted on a box of cookies, Devan didn’t simply agree or refuse. Instead, he asked, “Why do you want them?”
“We already have biscuits at home,” he reminded her.
“But I want one with chocolate chips,” Lavanya countered, determined.
“Good point. How about we compromise? We’ll stick with what we have at home. Next week, we can buy what you want.”
Lavanya gave it a moment’s thought before nodding. “Deal.”
Sita marveled at the exchange. If it had been Malathi, she knew she would have either given in immediately to avoid a scene or refused outright because Kaveri would disapprove of extra sweets.
But here was Devan, treating Lavanya’s wants as valid, making her feel heard without bending to her every demand. It was such a small moment, but Sita could see the difference it made.
Sita sat with that thought for a moment. Here was a child who had grown up without a mother, yet she carried herself with more poise and independence than many children who had both parents. Meanwhile, Sita’s mother-in-law insisted that every small tantrum Malathi threw was because of Sita’s absence as if a mother’s presence alone shaped a child’s character.
But looking at Lavanya, Sita wasn’t so sure anymore.
Sita couldn’t shake off the thought from her mind. She was always convinced that her work was coming between her and good parenting when Kaveri accused her. It was almost as if Sita herself used her job as an excuse when something went wrong with Malathi. But, now looking at Devan and Lavanya she wondered what were they doing right that she wasn't.
When she met Devan the next time she couldn’t help herself but ask "How do you manage?"
Devan turned to look at her. Sita had her eyes fixed on Lav was playing in the corner of the room, flipping through a book.
"You mean parenting?" Devan asked.
Sita nodded.
“I struggled at first,” he admitted. “After my wife passed, I didn’t know how to handle it alone. But I figured it out over time.”
"How?"
Devan smiled faintly. “My mother used to say,” Devan added, “‘You can’t teach a child who they are you just have to give them space to figure it out.’”
That sounded like something his mother would say.
Sita remembers how his mother would often ask “Is that what you want?”. She asked him questions. She valued Devan’s opinion.
“How can we do that?”
Devan nodded. “Before we teach them to fit into the world, shouldn’t we first let them understand themselves? If we force them into molds too soon, they either break trying to fit or spend their whole life feeling like they’re not enough.”
Sita glanced at Lavanya, who was skipping ahead, blissfully unaware of the depth of their conversation. “And what about discipline?”
Devan chuckled. “Oh, there’s discipline. But it’s about guiding, not controlling. If I parent from a place of exhaustion or frustration, then I’ll resent her for being a child. And if she grows up feeling like she has to earn my love by being obedient, one day, she’ll resent me too.”
Sita exhaled, feeling something inside her shift. How often had she felt torn between Malathi’s needs and the weight of expectations from Kaveri, Ramesh, and even herself? She had never thought of parenting as something that could carry resentment, but now that Devan said it, it made an uncomfortable amount of sense.
That evening, Sita returned home to find Malathi crying. She had wanted to wear her blue dress, but Kaveri had insisted on the pink one because "it looks more proper for a girl."
"But I want blue!" Malathi wailed.
"Enough!" Kaveri scolded. "Good girls don't make such a fuss about clothes."
Sita looked at her daughter's tear-streaked face and thought about what Devan had said. Before she could stop herself, she said, "It's okay if she wears the blue dress, Amma. It's just a color."
Kaveri looked shocked. "You're going to let her decide? At this age?"
"Yes," Sita said firmly. "She knows what she likes."
Later, as she helped Malathi change into the blue dress, her daughter looked up at her with surprise. "You're not angry that I cried?"
"No, kanna. It's okay to want things sometimes." Sita smoothed Malathi's hair. "But next time, maybe ask calmly first, okay?"
Malathi nodded, her earlier tantrum forgotten as she twirled in her blue dress.
That night, as Ramesh and Sita prepared for bed, he said quietly, "You stood up to Amma today."
Sita nodded, expecting criticism.
Instead, he said, "It was good. Malathi seemed happier tonight."
"You think so?"
"Yes. And..." he hesitated, "you seemed different too. More sure of yourself."
Sita thought about Devan's words. "I'm learning how to be a better parent."
Ramesh nodded a small smile on his face. "I've always thought you were a good mother, Sita. No matter what Amma says."
It was the most direct support he'd ever offered, and Sita felt a warmth spread through her chest. "Thank you for saying that. I didn't realize how much your support has given me strength until today."
As the weeks passed, Sita noticed small changes in her approach to parenting. When Malathi wanted to help set the dinner table, instead of rushing to do it herself, Sita let her daughter try, even though it took longer and wasn't perfect. When Malathi chose mismatched socks, Sita didn't correct her.
She also began to notice Ramesh stepping in more often when Kaveri criticized her parenting.
"Let Sita handle it her way, Amma," he would say quietly but firmly.
One evening, Sita came home from work to find Ramesh and Malathi repairing an old air fryer.
"Amma! I'm helping Appa!" Malathi announced proudly.
"I see that," Sita said, smiling as she set down her bag. "Where's Paati?"
"She went to the temple with Shakuntala aunty," Ramesh explained. "I thought Malathi and I could do something productive together."
Sita noticed how patient Ramesh was as Malathi kept distracting him with questions or kept playing with the tools. She remembered how Devan had spoken to Lavanya regarding the grocery store, treating her like a person with valid opinions and choices.
"You're a good father, Ramesh," she said softly.
He looked up, surprised by the compliment. "Why do you say that?” His eyes lightened as he asked that.
Maybe she wasn’t the only parent who needed assurance and validation.
A few weeks later, Sita brought up the possibility of enrolling Malathi in the same school where she worked.
"It would be easier to have her nearby," she explained to Ramesh. "It’s a good school and I get a staff discount. And..." she hesitated, "I'd feel better knowing she's close by."
Ramesh agreed, but Kaveri was predictably opposed.
For once, Sita didn't back down. "This is our decision, Amma. Ramesh agrees it would be good for Malathi."
The interview at the school went well until the principal asked Malathi, "Why do you want to change schools, little one?"
Malathi looked at her mother, then back at the principal. "Because my mom works here and she can't pick me up from my old school."
The principal smiled. "Is that the only reason?"
Malathi thought for a moment, then added with surprising confidence, "No. I also want to join the basketball coaching."
Sita blinked in surprise. She hadn't known Malathi was interested in basketball.
"Basketball?" the principal asked. "That's wonderful. We have an excellent program for beginners your age."
As they left the interview, Sita held Malathi's hand. "You never told me you wanted to play basketball, kanna."
"Priya's brother plays. It looks fun," she said simply. "Can I try it?"
Sita thought about how easily she might have dismissed this interest a few months ago, insisting that Malathi was too young or too small. Instead, she squeezed her daughter's hand and said, "Of course you can."
When they arrived home, Kaveri was waiting with questions about how the interview went. Malathi ran ahead, excitedly announcing, "I'm going to play basketball at my new school!"
"Basketball? Girls don't need to play such rough games," Kaveri frowned.
Before Sita could respond, Ramesh appeared from the kitchen. "Why not? I played when I was in school. It's good exercise."
"But she's so small, she'll get hurt," Kaveri protested.
"She'll learn," Ramesh said simply, giving Sita a supportive glance.
Later that evening, as Malathi was getting ready for bed, she asked Sita to help her pick clothes for the next day.
"Can you do it now? So I don't have to wake up early?" she asked.
Sita had just come home from a long day and was tired. Normally, she would have insisted on doing it in the morning or asked Kaveri to help. But remembering how Devan never seemed to rush Lavanya or brush off her requests, Sita nodded.
"Let me rest for five minutes first, okay? Then we can do it."
Malathi nodded and waited patiently, not complaining or pestering. When Sita picked matching clothes and earrings, Malathi hugged her tightly. "Thank you, Amma."
Such a small thing, Sita thought, yet it felt significant. She had acknowledged her own needs while still meeting Malathi's. Most importantly, her daughter had respected both.
The next Friday, Sita observed Devan talking with Lavanya about an upcoming science project. Instead of telling her what to do, he was asking questions, guiding her to find her own solution.
"What materials do you think would work best?" he asked.
"Maybe cardboard? And glue?" Lavanya suggested.
"Good thinking. What about strength?"
Lavanya's forehead wrinkled as she considered this. "Will cardboard be strong enough?"
"That's a great question. How could we test that?"
Sita marveled at his patience, at how he treated his daughter as a thinking person rather than a helpless child needing direction.
She thought about her own mother-in-law, who insisted children should simply be told what to do. And about herself, how often she had done things for Malathi rather than letting her try, fail, and learn.
"You're good at this," she told Devan when Lavanya stepped away to gather her things.
"At what?"
"Parenting. Listening to her. Guiding instead of dictating."
Devan smiled, and for a moment, Sita saw in him the curious boy who had introduced her to the idea of pizza and faraway places. "It wasn't always like this."
"What changed?"
"I stopped trying to be perfect. Started focusing on the relationship instead of the rules." He shrugged. “Good parenting is a choice. And, I made mine.”
On the way home, Sita found herself thinking about choices. How she had chosen to work despite her family's disapproval. How she was now choosing to parent differently, despite years of being told she was doing it wrong.
The following Tuesday, Malathi's admission to the school was confirmed and Sita had brought Malathi to school to familiarize her with the surroundings. As they walked out of the administration building, Sita spotted Lavanya in the playground.
Lavanya noticed them too and waved enthusiastically. Devan, standing nearby, smiled and nodded at Sita.
"Malathi will be joining the school next month," Sita explained when they approached.
"Really?" Lavanya clapped her hands. "We can be friends!"
"Okay," Malathi said shyly.
Watching the two girls together, Sita couldn't help but see echoes of herself and Devan all those years ago, the shy girl and the confident one, forming an unlikely friendship.
Later, as she and Devan watched the children playing, he said quietly, "History has a way of repeating itself, doesn't it?"
Sita nodded, thinking not just of the children's budding friendship, but of how Devan's influence had once again helped shape her perspective on life.
As a child, he had expanded her horizons with stories of the world beyond their neighborhood. Now, as an adult, he was showing her a different way to parent, one based on respect and understanding rather than rigid rules and expectations.
"Thank you," she said.
"For what?"
"For showing me that there's no one right way to be a parent. That it's okay to trust myself."
He smiled. "You were always more capable than you gave yourself credit for, Sita. Even back then."
In the weeks that followed, subtle changes continued at home. Sita noticed Malathi becoming more independent like choosing her own clothes, helping with simple chores without being asked, and waiting patiently when Sita needed a moment to rest after work.
Ramesh, too, seemed different, more engaged with Malathi, and more protective of Sita when Kaveri criticized her.
One evening, after a particularly trying day when Malathi had fallen at school and scraped her elbow, Kaveri began the familiar refrain: "If you had been there instead of teaching other people's children—"
"Enough, Amma," Ramesh interrupted firmly. "Children fall. It happens. Sita is a good mother and a good teacher."
Kaveri looked so shocked that she actually fell silent.
Later, as they prepared for bed, Sita said to Ramesh, "You didn't have to defend me."
"Yes, I did," he replied. "I should have done it more often. You're doing your best for our family. I see that now more clearly than ever."
Sita felt a warmth spread through her chest. "I think I'm finally learning to believe that myself."
Six months later, Sita stood outside her classroom, watching Malathi play basketball. Her daughter wasn't the fastest or the most skilled, but she was enthusiastic and fearless, diving for the ball and laughing when she fell.
"She's quite the athlete," Devan's voice came from beside her. He had become a frequent presence in her life. A steady friend who understood her struggles and joys as a working parent.
"She loves it," Sita agreed. "I would never have thought to encourage sports if she hadn't asked."
"That's the thing about children," Devan said. "They know what they need if we just listen."
Across the courtyard, Sita could see Ramesh, who had taken a rare afternoon off work to watch Malathi's first small basketball tournament. When he caught her eye, he smiled and gave a small wave.
At that moment, Sita felt a profound sense of peace. Not because everything was perfect, her mother-in-law still made occasional comments, work was still demanding, and balancing it all remained challenging. But she no longer felt the crushing guilt that had once accompanied every decision.
She had learned, through Devan's example and her own experiences, that good parenting wasn't defined by constant presence or rigid adherence to traditions. It was about respect, guidance, and the courage to let children discover who they were meant to be.
As she returned Ramesh's wave, Sita realized something else. The woman who had once felt torn between her roles as mother and teacher, who had questioned her every decision, had found her footing. She was still growing, still learning, but no longer doubting her worth or her choices.
She was exactly where she needed to be.
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