It is 7 o'clock in the evening.
It is time for uncle to return from the fields.
Rati's heartbeat starts getting faster and faster.
The ticking of the clock feels like it's competing with her heartbeat.
Although Rati has completed the writing task given by her uncle, she has not been able to memorize the counting and multiplication tables.
And this thought keeps sinking her heart.
"What should I do? I just can't remember…"
"Oh God, please help me remember."
"No… God must be busy with so many things, what if He forgets my problem?"
"I'll have to find some way…"
Rati goes inside, where her aunt is making rotis.
"Aunt…" (in a sweet, loving tone)
"Yes, Rati, tell me." (lovingly)
"What is this?"
"This? It's roti."
"How do you make it so round?"
"I've been making it for years, so I learned."
"I also want to make it."
"No, you won't be able to."
"You have to let me try, then I'll learn."
Even after repeated refusals, Rati keeps requesting sweetly.
But her aunt also keeps refusing.
Rati, however, has no choice—she must avoid her uncle.
Soon, the sound of her uncle's bicycle bell rings in her ears.
Now her requests become even more emotional and persuasive.
Finally, her aunt gives in and hands over the last three dough balls to Rati.
"Alright, make them. But don't burn them, okay?"
"Yes, aunt, I won't burn them."
Her aunt goes to the courtyard to wash her hands and feet.
Just then, her uncle enters.
"Oh, Rati! What are you doing?"
"I'm making rotis."
"Where is your aunt?"
"In the courtyard."
"Oh! So my little Rati is making rotis today?"
"What could I do? She kept insisting for so long, so I gave her the last three dough balls."
"Then today I'll eat rotis made by Rati."
Her aunt laughs,
"Okay."
Rati deliberately spoils and reshapes the same dough again and again, trying to pass time.
But how long can just three dough balls help her?
Finally, as soon as the last roti is done, her uncle says,
"Now go wash your hands and bring your homework."
"Oh God, why did you even create uncles like this…"
Feeling scared and frustrated, Rati slowly washes her hands.
Just then, she gets another idea.
In her village, electricity usually goes off at 7:30 PM—and it is already that time.
When the power goes out, her uncle uses a battery light in the veranda.
Rati quietly goes there, places a plastic chair on a wooden platform, and somehow breaks the light.
After a while, her uncle comes into the veranda and calls,
"Rati!"
"Yes?"
"Come here."
Rati comes with her books.
"Show me your homework."
Just as she is about to give her notebook, the electricity goes off.
Her uncle brings the battery light and tries to switch it on.
But it doesn't work.
"What! The light is broken?!"
Rati feels very happy inside.
She thinks she is the smartest in the world.
But she doesn't realize—her uncle has also been a child once and understands everything.
He quickly guesses that Rati is behind this.
But instead of getting angry immediately, he decides to play along.
"Oh no, the light is broken. How will I check your homework now?"
"Leave it, uncle… you can check it tomorrow."
"No, no. You worked so hard today, why check tomorrow?"
"Go bring the oil lamp (dhibri). I'll check your work in its light."
Rati's clever plan fails.
Her uncle checks her notebook.
Her handwriting is very messy.
"What is this? Is this your handwriting?"
He pulls her hair, bends her head down, and hits her twice on the back.
"When I ask you how your studies are going, you say everything is fine!"
He slaps her cheeks lightly.
"Don't you want to study? Will you just cut grass when you grow up?"
"Speak!"
"Should writing be like this?"
"Look at Rama—her handwriting is so neat. Can't you learn from her?"
"If you cry, I'll hit you more. Wipe your tears first."
Sniffling, Rati says,
"I study, uncle…"
"Okay then, recite the table of 2."
"I don't remember…"
Slap, slap
"Then what do you study?"
"Fine, tell counting."
Rati remembers counting and recites it with spelling.
"Now say A, B, C, D."
"I don't remember."
"Why?"
"I try to remember… but I just can't…"
"If you try, why won't you remember?"
"Really, uncle… I swear to God, I try… but I can't remember…"
Seeing her innocent face and hearing her swear, her uncle's heart melts.
He wipes her tears and says softly,
"It's okay. You'll learn slowly."
"Come, let's go to the roof. I'll tell you a story."
"Don't cry. You're a good girl, right? Good girls don't cry like this."
He picks her up in his arms and takes her to the rooftop.
There, Rama also joins them.
Under the moonlight, the three of them lie on a mat and listen to stories together.