The Indian day does not begin with an alarm. It begins with the click of a latch. In a joint family apartment in Old Delhi’s Chandni Chowk, it is the grandmother, Dadi , who owns the first hour. At 5:30 AM, she shuffles to the balcony in her crisp white cotton sari, a steel glass of chai in hand, and performs the Surya Namaskar —a silent greeting to the sun. This is her domain: the sacred time before the "machinery" of the family starts.
If you want the secret of the Indian mother’s soul, look inside the tiffin box. Not the sleek, bento-box variety. The classic, round, stainless steel contraption with locking latches. The Indian day does not begin with an alarm
(touching feet for blessings) and seeking their counsel before major decisions. The "Hustle" and Routine: At 5:30 AM, she shuffles to the balcony