As the evening sun cast a golden glow over the neighbourhood, Ankit and I found ourselves standing in front of Radhi Di's house once again. It had become a routine for us to visit her uninvited, but she never seemed to mind. She and her husband's family always made us feel more at home than our own families ever did. With a mischievous grin on our faces, Ankit and I exchanged glances before simultaneously pressing the doorbell.A few moments passed, filled with a mixture of excitement and curiosity, until the door finally swung open. There, standing before us, was our favourite brother-in-law, Anupam Verma. His infectious smile greeted us, and his warm brown eyes twinkled with a hint of amusement.

With a warm smile that melted our worries away, a wise-looking man greeted us. "Welcome, champs. So, how did you forget your way here today?" he asked in a friendly yet mysterious manner. and continued"Radha, look, your brothers are here," Anupam Jiju exclaimed, breaking the enchanting silence that had settled upon us.

Radha Di came from another room. Her presence was captivating, her smile radiant as ever. And behind her, a servant girl gracefully carried a tray adorned with a variety of delectable snacks - samosas, kachoris, and jalebis. It seemed as though Di had anticipated our arrival, preparing a feast fit for royalty. With anticipation bubbling inside, we both settled onto the plush sofas, delicately picking up the snacks, and savouring each bite. The air was filled with the warmth of nostalgia, as we joyfully reminisced about the events that had unfolded over the past few days. Laughter danced around us, as we spoke of new friendships formed, shared experiences, and the inevitable twists and turns of life. In India, there is a common tradition among women - expressing their love through food. It's a sentiment that transcends words, allowing the taste of their affection to fill our souls and our stomachs. Di's gesture was a testament to this tradition, her love overflowing in every morsel.

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I gently extricated my hand from Radha Di's warm grasp, a mix of gratitude and mild protest in my movement. "Di, enough, I really can't eat any more," I pleaded, my words slightly muffled by the affectionate bustle of the kitchen.

Radha Di, the ever-nurturing figure in our family, clucked her tongue disapprovingly. "Arey! Just look at how thin you've become," she insisted, her eyes full of concern as she deftly slid another steaming samosa onto my already overloaded plate. Turning her attention away from me, she called out, "Anuji, please call home. Let them know these two will be staying with us tonight. Ankit can return tomorrow, and Ashwin will head straight to Hyderabad from here."

Anuji, my brother-in-law, the unspoken patriarch of our extended family, nodded with a reassuring smile and stepped away to make the call. My brother and I exchanged a glance, a silent acknowledgement of our shared relief. Within the walls of this house, under Anuji's protective wing, we had found our sanctuary, a respite from the relentless expectations of the outside world.

The days that followed were a comforting blend of laughter and familial warmth, each moment weaving a tapestry of cherished memories. But as all good things do, this visit too came to an end. Before I fully grasped the passage of time, I found myself on the train back to Hyderabad. The rhythmic clatter of the wheels against the tracks provided a soothing backdrop for my reflections. I gazed out of the window, watching the landscape shift and change, mirroring the mix of emotions within me.

The overnight journey allowed me a quiet space to contemplate the warmth and love I was leaving behind. The familiar sights and sounds of my childhood receded into the distance, replaced by the anticipation of the life that awaited me in Hyderabad. As the train pulled into Secunderabad Station, a profound sense of contentment washed over me, tinged with a faint, lingering longing for the comforts of the home I'd just left.