"You won’t believe it," Kavya grinned, holding up a guitar. "I quit my finance job. I’m starting a rock band for wedding gigs."

Later, as they scrolled through a shopping app to buy a lehenga for a cousin's wedding (Meera vetoing sequins, Suman vetoing "too much back-show"), a video call crackled to life. It was Meera’s younger sister, Kavya, from a hostel in Bangalore.

Meera’s day began before the sun painted the Mumbai skyline orange. Her first ritual was not prayer, but the deep, silent inhale of the brewing on the gas stove—ginger, cardamom, and loose Assam leaves colliding in a milky symphony. This was her anchor.

"You don't believe in it," Suman said softly.

"I believe in you," Meera replied.

The Scent of Wet Earth and Cardamom