Rohan slid into his seat, defeated.

On the day of the Kavi Sammelan, the auditorium was packed. Parents in saris and kanduras sat side by side. Aisha performed first—a sharp, witty poem about learning khari boli from her Emirati grandfather who watched Sholay on repeat.

For two weeks, Aisha and Rohan stayed after school in the library. The windows looked out at the Burj Khalifa in the distance—a needle of steel and glass.

"Dubai ki ret mein, Ganga behti hai." (In the sands of Dubai, the Ganga flows.)

"KV weird," Rohan corrected.

Later, walking to the school gate, Aisha kicked a pebble. "We lost."