The return journey from Tiruppur was quiet, the kind of satisfying silence that settles over a family after a long day well spent. Our car was loaded with bags—T-shirts, tracks, shorts, night suits, and essentials for everyone, though most of the choices were mine, picked for Appa and Santhosh with a mix of style and comfort in mind.
We were too tired to plan anything fancy for dinner. Somewhere near Perundurai, we stopped at a roadside dhaba that Appa liked. The kind with plastic chairs and mismatched tables, but food that made up for all the ambience it lacked. We ordered naan, kadai chicken, and paneer butter masala. Santhosh was sleepy but still chewed through a whole butter naan on his own. I was so tired that I didn't even remember falling asleep in the car. I just remember the slight hum of Appa's playlist and Amma quietly humming along in the front seat.
When we got home, no one had the energy to unpack. The shopping bags lay near the door, untouched like trophies from a victorious campaign. We all went to bed without even brushing our teeth—an unspoken family rule on "special" tired days.
The next morning, I was woken up by a high-pitched squeal and a tug on my blanket.
"Akkaaaa! I'm going to wear my new Spiderman T-shirt today!" Santhosh announced, already halfway into it.
I groaned, pulling the blanket over my head. "No way! You can't wear new clothes without washing them first. It's full of dust, colour fixatives, and you'll get rashes."
"But - But it smells nice!" he sniffed at the fabric.
I sat up, stretching. "Trust me. We need to wash them first. Help me do laundry?"
And just like that, the morning became a laundry festival.
Amma had already started boiling water for coffee and heating the bath water on the gas stove. The entire house smelled like filter coffee and detergent. The three of us made a team—Amma sorting whites, me handling the coloureds, and Santhosh cheerfully dancing around pretending to be the "soap spray captain."
We scrubbed collars, rinsed, and repeated. I explained to Santhosh why white shirts shouldn't be mixed with dark jeans, and why we always turned printed T-shirts inside out before washing. "Otherwise the print goes off," I told him, as he listened with fake seriousness.
Once we hung the last towel on the clothesline, we collapsed on the porch floor. The morning sun was starting to rise higher, heating the cement beneath us.
"Akka, why do new clothes smell weird?" he asked, resting his chin on his knee.
"Because they haven't been loved yet," I replied dramatically, flicking water at him.
After breakfast, Appa left for the office. But not before I reminded him, "Don't forget, we're going to school after lunch—for Santhosh's fees, PE staff, and my TC."
Amma nodded. "We'll go by 2:30. Finish your food early."
I cleaned up the breakfast plates while Amma packed the documents we needed. I was mentally preparing myself for the school visit—not just because of the formalities, but also the memories.
As we sat down again with a second round of coffee, I brought up what had been on my mind since yesterday.
"Amma, what do you think about enrolling Santhosh in a badminton class?"
She glanced at me, surprised. "Badminton?"
"Yeah, a proper coaching centre. You've seen how much he enjoys it. And it's actually great for kids with ADHD," I said, stirring my coffee slowly. "It's not just a fun activity—it can help him channel all that extra energy in a structured way."
Amma looked curious now, so I continued, "Badminton is fast-paced. It makes you think quickly, move with coordination, and stay focused during the game. That kind of physical discipline can do wonders for attention and impulse control. You can't zone out in the middle of a rally, right? So it trains the mind, too."
She nodded slowly, but still asked, "I don't know... will he manage both class and sports? Won't it be too much?"
"That's exactly the point," I replied gently. "Right now, he's struggling to focus because he has all that energy with nowhere to go. If he can let it out in a healthy way, like sports, he might actually find it easier to concentrate in class. He's already good at it—if we support him now, who knows how far he could go?"
Amma didn't say anything for a moment, but I could tell she was thinking deeply. Sometimes planting the seed was enough.
He was naturally athletic. Quick reflexes, endless energy, and genuine joy when he played. If sports could be the outlet that helped his mind focus, then we had to support that.
At lunch, I sat him down and said, "Santhosh, if someone bullies you or you don't like something at school, you can always tell me, okay?"
He nodded, mouth full of curd rice.
"And if you like any game or class, just tell us. We'll try our best to make it happen."
He smiled widely. "Then I want cricket class! Or badminton. Or chess! No—karate!"
I laughed. "Let's pick one first."
Amma joined us. "We'll ask your PE teacher today. But no skipping homework for practice, deal?"
He raised his hand like a soldier. "Yes, Amma!"
After lunch, we started getting ready for the school visit. I gathered the fees receipt, the TC request forms, and made sure Santhosh's ID cards were tucked safely inside Amma's handbag. He was too excited, clutching the brown envelope that had his photographs, pretending it was some sort of VIP pass. Amma reminded him thrice not to crumple it before we even stepped out of the house.
Just as we walked to the gate, Appa pulled up in the car, rolling down the window. "Get in, let's go," he said, his voice unusually cheerful. The sun was mellow now, giving way to a cloudy evening. The ride to the school was filled with Santhosh's chatter about how he wanted to buy superhero labels for his notebooks and ask the stationery shop aunty if they had glow-in-the-dark pencil caps. Amma and I just smiled and let him talk.
At the school gate, the watchman waved us in. We first made our way to the principal's room. Principal Ma'am, Subha Miss, was already familiar with us, especially with Santhosh's nature and my routine visits to his class during breaks. She greeted us with a warm smile and gestured for us to sit.
"So, hostel life is calling, is it?" she asked, looking at me kindly.
"Yes, ma'am. The admission is done. Just came to collect the TC."
She nodded thoughtfully. "That's a good move, Nila. It'll be a wonderful opportunity for you. New experiences, new friends, a structured environment—it'll help you grow in many ways."
I smiled, suddenly feeling the weight of her words. "Thank you, ma'am. For everything—your support, your understanding, especially with Santhosh. It meant a lot to us."
She leaned back in her chair and looked over at him. "He's a bright child, full of spirit. And now that you'll be away, he'll still be under our watch. Don't worry, I'll make sure he's well looked after."
We finished the TC formalities and paid the school fees at the office. Amma double-checked all the receipts, like always. Then we walked over to the school bookstore to get Santhosh's new set of books. He hugged the package like it was a gift, eyes shining at the thought of flipping through the fresh pages.
"Next stop, PE room!" I said, nudging his shoulder.
We made our way to the open ground, where the PE sir was finishing up with a group of students I think summer sport camp. He wiped his forehead and came over when he saw us.
"Sir, we wanted to ask about enrolling Santhosh in the after-school badminton program," Amma began.
"Badminton? Good choice! He's shown interest before. If he joins, we'll assign him to the beginners' group. Two hours after school every day. He'll get proper coaching, and we'll keep track of his attendance."
I could see Santhosh bouncing on his heels already, too thrilled to stay still. PE, sir noticed too and smiled, "Looks like he's ready to start today itself."
We all laughed, and Appa thanked the coach. Amma discussed a few details about his pick-up time, snacks, and homework schedules, but everything seemed to fall into place smoothly.
As we left the school gate, I looked back once at the building, knowing this was the last time I'd walk out of it as a student. A strange calmness came over me—not sadness, not excitement, just… stillness.
Appa dropped us back at home. I knew the next chapter of our lives was starting. And it felt like, for once, we were all heading in the right direction—together.