We reached home around 10 PM. The streets were wrapped in a sleepy silence, the only sounds being the occasional distant bark of a dog and the faint echo of a late-night TV show from a neighboring house. As we drove into our lane, the faint hum of crickets filled the air, and a few nightwalkers strolled lazily along the footpath. Our headlights briefly lit up their faces before they disappeared into the shadows.
When we reached our gate, I quickly got out to open it. The cool night breeze hit my face, bringing with it the comforting scent of home. I swung open the metal gate, and Appa carefully drove the car inside. Once parked, I latched the gate behind us.
As we turned towards the front door, it creaked open slowly. Amma stood there in her Cotton saree, her hair tied up in a messy bun, eyes heavy with sleep but instantly lighting up at the sight of us.
"You came," she said, voice low and soft, almost like she was still in a dream. "Did you both have dinner? Are you hungry?"
Before she could finish the sentence, I rushed forward and hugged her tightly, burying my face into the familiar curve of her shoulder.
"I missed you so much, Amma," I whispered, my voice muffled.
She gently patted my back. "Paavam, my baby."
"I promise I won't complain anymore about burnt or thick dosas," I mumbled dramatically. "Even if you give me idlis when I ask for dosas, I won't cry. I won't even roll my eyes when you pack upma for lunch."
Amma chuckled sleepily. "That's a lot of promises in one go."
Appa, who was lifting my bags from the car, burst out laughing.
"Don't laugh," Amma scolded him playfully. "My poor baby suffered so much. See how grateful she has become now."
Appa shook his head, smiling. "Now I believe she really did suffer. Nila asking for idlis voluntarily? That's a first."
Amma stepped aside to let us in. "What do you want for breakfast tomorrow, baby? Anything you say."
I sat down on the doorstep, kicking off my shoes and stretching. "Mini idlis… with sambar and ghee poured over them."
Appa gave an exaggerated gasp. "You really have changed."
I grinned. "I'm a new person."
Amma ruffled my hair. "Good. Tomorrow I'll wake up early and make it hot and fresh. You sleep well tonight."
As we entered the house, I noticed the small things I had missed. The faint lemony smell of the kitchen floor cleaner. The way Amma folds the sofa blankets. The dull hum of the refrigerator. Home.
"Oh, and Amma," I said, suddenly remembering, "Appa took me to Ambur on the way home. We had Star Biryani."
Amma's eyes widened. "Biryani? Did you enjoy?"
"Loved it," I said dreamily. "Appa and I chatted the whole way, played music, had some snacks too. It was perfect."
"Good," she said, nodding with satisfaction. "I'm glad you both had fun."
"Now go freshen up," Appa said. "I'll bring your bags to your room. You have two full days to enjoy. No school. No bells. No notes."
I nodded, already feeling the comfort of being home settle into my bones. I took a deep breath, smiling to myself.
There was nothing like coming home.
Nila waved her hands. "No need to fuss over me, Amma. I'll go to my room. You and Appa go to sleep—it's already late. We have a lot to speak about tomorrow... and I have a lot of complaints too."
Amma and Appa chuckled. "Alright, alright," Appa said, patting her head, "We'll be ready with open ears tomorrow morning."
"Prepare yourselves," Nila called out playfully, heading toward her room.
The moment she opened the door, a wave of calmness settled over her. The room was clean and perfectly in place. The floor was wiped spotless, the shelves dusted, and her bed was neatly made with her favorite printed bedsheet. She leaned forward and sniffed—it smelled of sunlight and warm cotton. Amma had dried it on the clothesline.
She dropped her bag near the door with a soft thud, changed into her nightclothes, and went to freshen up. As she wiped her face, she caught her reflection in the mirror. There was a light in her eyes—a comfort she didn't know she missed until she came home.
Back in her room, she pulled out a well-thumbed copy of Percy Jackson and the Sea of Monsters from her bookshelf. She settled into bed, hugged her pillow close, and flipped open the pages. The familiar world of Greek gods, sea monsters, and half-blood camps welcomed her back like old friends.
She didn't even realize when sleep took over. The book had slid halfway down her chest, her arm flopped to the side. The room was quiet, lit only by the faint glow of the hallway light through the open door.
Suddenly—
Bang bang bang!
The loud thuds on the door jolted her awake.
"Akka! Wake up! We need to go cycling!" came the unmistakable voice of her younger brother, Santhosh.
Still blinking sleep from her eyes, she called out, "Okay, okay! Go downstairs. I'll be ready in five minutes!"
She heard him scamper down the stairs, clearly too excited to wait.
Stretching her arms, she got off the bed and changed into a comfortable set of clothes for the morning. She splashed water on her face, combed her hair into a ponytail, and headed down the wooden staircase, yawning but smiling.
The living room was already buzzing with energy. Appa was lacing up his sneakers for badminton. Amma was in the kitchen preparing coffee. Santhosh was practically bouncing in place, already dressed and holding the cycle keys in one hand.
"You look just the same, Akka!" he said dramatically.
Nila laughed. "Really? I thought I lost weight!"
Amma gave her a once-over and said, "Hmmm... actually, I think you gained a bit."
"What?!" Nila gasped in mock horror. "That can't be true! I've been playing basketball every day! I thought I was burning calories!"
Appa raised his eyebrows with a teasing grin. "Weren't you saying the food is terrible? Now, who's saying they're eating well and gaining weight?"
"The food is okay," Nila groaned. "But I do miss the taste of Amma's cooking. And I don't really have a choice there—I eat what they serve. Not sure how healthy it is though."
Santhosh rolled his eyes. "Akka, stop complaining about hostel food. Come now! Let's go cycling in the mud roads near the fields. If we see any grandpas in their farms, maybe we can even buy some fresh veggies!"
"Hmm… good idea. Amma, I might buy some veggies on the way back. Will you come change quickly?"
Amma laughed, wiping her hands on her towel. "Take this cloth bag and some change instead. If you like something, get it and come back. I'll make lunch from it."
Within minutes, Nila and Santhosh were out on their cycles, pedaling down the narrow mud road that curved alongside vast green fields. The early morning air was cool and crisp, filled with the earthy scent of soil and fresh crops. The occasional bird call punctuated the silence. A cow mooed lazily from a distance. Sunlight filtered softly through the canopy of trees bordering the fields.
Their cycles crunched over fallen leaves and gravel as they raced each other along the path.
Nila took a deep breath, her lungs filling with clean, unfiltered air. She looked around. Fields of paddy swayed gently in the morning breeze, and patches of banana plantations peeked through the trees. In the far corner, she saw a farmer waving at them.
She waved back, heart full.
This was the joy she had missed in hostel life. This was what real mornings were like—peaceful, green, and free.
She glanced over at her little brother, who was now riding ahead with his arms outstretched, pretending to be an airplane. She smiled.
For now, this was exactly where she needed to be.