And just like that, the TV goes off, but the conversation starts. We talk about salaries, dreams, fears, and gossip until someone falls asleep on the couch. Living an Indian family lifestyle is not easy. There is no silence. There is no personal space. Your mother will judge you if you come home late, and your father will compare your chai making skills to his mother’s.

There is a sound that wakes me up every morning. It isn't an alarm clock. It is the metallic clank of the pressure cooker whistling in the kitchen. At 6:00 AM sharp, Amma (Grandma) is already up, soaking the idli batter and chopping vegetables for lunch.

And I wouldn’t trade it for all the peace and quiet in the world.

This is when the stories happen. My father reads the newspaper aloud (a habit we hate but secretly love). My brother talks about his new crush. Amma tells us about the neighbor’s daughter who got engaged to a boy from "an IT background, very nice family."