When I reached home from the temple, the sun had already softened, spilling its warmth on the mud walls of our house. I pushed the wooden door open, the familiar creak greeting me, and found my mother sitting in the courtyard. There was something different about her face—her smile seemed lighter, her eyes brighter, as if she was hiding something good from me.

I placed the thali of prasad on the low stool and touched her feet. “Maa, did something happen? You look… happy,” I asked, my voice unsure.