Not Good Enough for Diwali / Chapter 6: The Homework Marathon
Not Good Enough for Diwali

Not Good Enough for Diwali

Author: Saanvi Nair


Chapter 6: The Homework Marathon

After being bombarded by Mummy's phone calls for half an hour, Mausi had no choice but to send me home. Because she was angry that Mausi had secretly taken me to the movies, Mummy directly cancelled my birthday party on the fourth day after Diwali.

We packed up in silence, the leftover movie popcorn forgotten at the bottom of my bag. Sneha hugged me tightly, whispering, "We'll celebrate next time, promise." But I knew promises didn’t always survive Mummy’s moods.

Mausi was incredulous: "But it's Ananya's birthday."

She pleaded with Mummy, her voice cracking with disbelief. Even Mausi, who never lost her cool, seemed shaken by Mummy's harshness.

"Ananya already had cake on her star birthday. She only got 139.5 in English and is still so unmotivated—she doesn't deserve a birthday."

The words hit harder than any scolding. I looked away, pretending to check my phone so no one would see my tears.

...Mausi rolled her eyes and tried to persuade Dad: "Jijaji, Ananya is the best kid I've ever seen. If it were another child, they'd have gone crazy being pushed like this. No matter how much she studies, she should at least get to celebrate her birthday."

Her words hung in the air, unanswered. Dad looked helpless, running his fingers through his hair, but did nothing.

Dad was about to speak, but Mummy quickly pushed Mausi out the door: "Celebrate what? If she can't get into college, she won't even have enough to eat, and she still wants a birthday?"

The door closed with a dull thud. I stared at the floor, my dreams shrinking into the cracks between the tiles.

Looking at Mummy's resolute eyes, I knew my Diwali was over.

The house felt colder, the decorations meaningless. I pulled my knees to my chest and wished I could erase myself from this day.

It's fine, I can accept it. But I had already made plans with my friends for the fourth day, and I didn't want to break my promise: "Mummy, if I finish all the homework you assigned for the winter break in the next two days, can I go to Barbeque Nation with Mausi for my birthday on the fourth day?"

My voice was hoarse, each word heavy with exhaustion. I waited, barely daring to breathe.

Mummy raised her eyebrows: "There's so much homework—how could you finish it all?"

She smirked, certain she’d trapped me in her impossible challenge.

"What if I do finish?"

I met her gaze, refusing to back down. My friends’ laughter echoed in my mind, pushing me forward.

"Fine. If you finish everything, you can go."

Her words were a lifeline, thin and fragile. I clung to them, determined not to let go.

A desperate life was clinging to this last sliver of hope. For those three days, I slept only two or three hours a night, even taking my homework with me to the bathroom.

I gulped down sweet chai to keep my eyes open, the taste reminding me of Mausi’s kitchen. The table lamp glowed late into the night. I scribbled answers, flipping through textbooks, my eyelids heavy, every muscle aching. Even as the power flickered off during a sudden load-shedding, I worked by torchlight, refusing to give up.

On the afternoon of the fourth day, I finished all my homework.

I double-checked every page, heart racing. The final dot on the last page felt like the sweetest victory.

Mausi came to pick me up, and my two best friends came as promised. They brought birthday gifts—Ritika gave me a pair of rhinestone hair clips, and Priya handed me a lipstick.

Their laughter filled the lift, the clatter of bangles and plastic gift-wrapping making my heart soar. For once, I felt like I belonged, like I was just a regular teenager.

"Ananya, this lipstick matches the kurti you bought last time."

Priya’s eyes twinkled, and I grinned, holding the lipstick like a treasure.

I couldn't wait to swatch the lipstick on the back of my hand. The beautiful orange-red colour made my whole world feel warm. For a moment, I imagined walking into college, head held high, wearing my new lipstick—a small rebellion.

Suddenly, my smile froze.

The air grew cold as I saw the familiar figure at the entrance. I sucked in my breath, the lipstick trembling in my hand.

Mummy appeared at Barbeque Nation.

Her sari rustled like a warning, and even the waiters seemed to sense the storm brewing at our table. She marched over, clutching a stack of my homework notebooks. Even in the noisy restaurant, her disapproval cut through everything else.

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