We took our daughter to the Achanakmar forest edge last month and she saw wild deer for the first time. Her face — I'll keep that expression in my pocket forever. You don't need a plane ticket for wonder; sometimes it's two hours from home.

a book that undid me

Re-read a Ruskin Bond collection this monsoon and it quietly wrecked me in the best way. His hill stations feel like my Chhattisgarh evenings — slow, green, honest. If your mind is loud these days, read something that whispers.

One of my students walks 4km each way and still smiles wider than most adults I know. On nights I feel my work doesn't matter, I remember his shoes and his grin. Some children teach the teacher.

After ten years of marriage the romance isn't roses, it's my husband quietly filling my water bottle before I leave for school without being asked. I used to want grand gestures; now I understand love is mostly someone remembering the small thing you forgot. It took me years to see it.

Teaching sixty children in one room means I give away all my patience by 2pm and come home with none for myself. I've started keeping ten minutes on the terrace before entering the house, just to become a person again before becoming a mother and wife. That small door between two lives keeps me sane.