Morning air along the Yamuna carried the fragrance of fresh mogra blossoms.
The golden sunlight spilled across the 1,200-square-yard lawn of the villa, glinting off the infinity pool, the ancient banyan, and the lotus pond, in which koi fish drifted like orange flames.
Rajesh Kumar lifted Priya into his arms and stepped onto the balcony.
Below them, the garden stretched like a dream: a swing swinging softly from the banyan's roots, a tree-house shaped like a lotus bud, and a soft green lawn where Little Sheru was already chasing butterflies in his tiny Pug form.
"Papa, school today?" Priya asked, rubbing sleep from her eyes.
"Yes, beta," Rajesh said, kissing her forehead. "Today, your new world begins."
He had dressed her in a sunflower-yellow frock he'd sewn himself, every thread woven with subtle protective runes.
Little Sheru was tucked into a custom sling-bag labeled **"Emotional Support Pug"** in golden thread, with an added embroidered line: **"I am the Princess's Guardian."**
At exactly 9:00 a.m., they arrived at **The Lotus Academy**.
The 12-acre campus was a living painting: organic vegetable patches, a glass butterfly conservatory, a music pavilion where the wind chimes sang in seven ragas, and a central courtyard with a sandstone fountain carved into the shape of Saraswati playing the veena.
The security guard looked at the Bentley, then at Rajesh's smiling, serene face, and wordlessly opened the gates.
Behind the heavy wooden desk in the office sat **Dr. Saraswati Iyer**.
She was sixty, silver-haired, with eyes like polished onyx.
On the desk lay a single file: **Priya Kumari, Age: 2 years, 3 months.
"Mr. Kumar," she began, her voice smooth as filtered coffee, "your daughter is more than a year younger than our youngest cohort. Our minimum age is three and a half.
Rajesh placed a slim folder on the desk.
Inside were three items:
1. **Priya's hand-drawn family portrait** - stick-figure Papa with a glowing golden halo, Mummy with a film camera, and a tiny Pug in a crown.
2. **A bank draft for ₹50 lakh** — being full advance payment for three years with a donation for a new sensory garden.
3. **One lotus petal**, still dewy, still fragrant, and refusing to wilt.
Dr. Iyer's fingers brushed the petal.
It hummed - soft, like the distant temple bells after evening aarti.
Her gaze lifted to Rajesh. "You are not just a parent.
"I am just a father," he responded, "who wants the best for his daughter."
Priya, who had been quietly stacking wooden mandala blocks in the corner, toddled over.
She placed a small block in the palm of Dr. Iyer.
It was hand-carved: a small lotus in full bloom.
"Ma'am," she said in her milky voice, "Papa says lotuses grow in muddy water but stay clean. Like good thoughts."
Dr. Iyer's stern mask dissolved.
She knelt down to Priya's level. "Little one, would you like to see our garden of butterflies?
Priya's eyes went wide. "With Sheru?"
The principal glanced at the sling-bag.
Little Sheru poked his head out, tongue lolling, eyes flickering gold for just a heartbeat.
Dr. Iyer didn't bat an eyelid. "Of course. Emotional support animals are always welcome."
---
Tour of the Campus
They walked along the sun-dappled paths:
- The Butterfly Conservatory: a glass dome where hundreds of butterflies followed Priya in a living rainbow. One — a rare blue morpho — landed on her nose and refused to leave.
- **The Sand Mandala Pit**: Priya clapped once. The sand rearranged itself into a perfect lotus. Dr. Iyer's breath caught.
- **The Music Pavilion**: A tanpura lay on a velvet cushion. When Priya hummed "Twinkle Twinkle" in rag Bhimpalasi, the strings vibrated in sympathy.
- **The Organic Farm**: Priya fed a baby goat named "Mithu" and said, "He's my new friend after Sheru."
At the end, under a spreading peepal tree, Dr. Iyer signed the admission form with a fountain pen that wrote in liquid gold.
"Classes begin Monday. Uniforms will be delivered tomorrow. And…"
She slipped the lotus petal between the pages of her diary. "This stays with me."
Rajesh bowed, palms together. "Thank you, Ma'am."
As they turned to leave, Dr. Iyer called softly:
"Mr. Kumar."
He paused.
"The waiting list was 400 children long. You just bypassed it with a flower and a smile."
Rajesh's eyes twinkled. "The flower was hers. The smile is always free."
---
That Afternoon: The Villa
Priya napped on the terrace daybed, one arm around Little Sheru, the other clutching her new school badge: a silver lotus on navy blue.
Rajesh created a new group chat: **"Priya's Village"
Members:
- **Neha Patel** : college friend, now neighbor in Plot 8B
- **Brijesh Joshi** Garuda Force ☕ - **Dr. Saraswati Iyer** (profile pic: the lotus petal, now pressed in glass) Rajesh: Play-date this Sunday? Garden freshly blessed. Mango lassi on tap. Bring kids, stories and zero weapons. ???? Neha: *I am bringing my niece Riya (3 yo). Prepare for glitter explosions.* ✨ **Brijesh:** *Granddaughter Aanya is coming. I'll bring filter coffee and silence.* **Dr. Iyer:** *I'll bring storybooks. And maybe a veena.* ???? Rajesh looked down at Priya's sleeping face, her cheeks flushed, lashes fluttering in dreams. He whispered to the wind: "First week: - Purchased a palace. Allies were made with secret warriors. Enrolled a toddler in elite school with magic flower. Hid a divine tiger in a Pug onesie. Welcome to normal, beta." Little Sheru sneezed. A single spark floated upwards, took shape as a small glowing lotus, and dissolved into the sunlight. Rajesh smiled. Of all the cultivation paths, he concluded, fatherhood was at once the most dangerous and the most divine.