The daycare facility closes at 6PM. It was already 5:20PM, and the traffic is stop-and-go. His GPS navigation system estimated ‘the destination arrival time’ of 5:40.
“I will make it”, he said out loud, to himself.
“Come on, keep moving! My daughter is waiting for me!” As if the cars in front of him could hear him.
He had recently read somewhere that speaking English more often helps with improving the English accent. Instead of Hindi, he now tries to speak English as much as he can, even when he is alone.

“I don’t wanna go to the daycare after school”, she had told her mom again last night.
“We will pick you up soon after you get there. I promise.” Mom tried convincing her.
“I don’t like it there.”
“I am sure you will make new friends.”
“I already made two new friends – Hailey and Shira,” she said in a less complaining, and more of a bragging tone.
“See, I told you! Now get some sleep.”
“Goodnight mom. Love you.”
“Goodnight Isha, love you too.”

It was Isha’s second week at the day care. The 7 year old was not used to the daily after-school care yet. With both the parents working, Isha is picked up from her school by a nearby after-school daycare facility. Unlike most of her friends who are picked up by their parents after the school closes, she boards the yellow daycare bus – a five minute ride from the school to the daycare.

He finally pulled into the parking lot of the daycare. Realizing that he has not been able to keep the promise of picking her up ‘soon after she gets there’, he rushed to the daycare building. He stopped outside the front door, only for a second, to fix his collar and tuck the shirt inside his trousers.

He entered the secret code to unlock the front door – the code that only parents and guardian are supposed to know. Once inside, he walked to the front desk, looked for Isha’s name in the sigh-in/sigh-out register, and signed his name, along with the sign-out time – 5:45PM.

“Look Hailey, my dad is here!” She screamed with joy as she saw him walk into the room.
He walked over to the far side of the room where Isha was playing a cardboard puzzle game along with two other kids.
“Hello Mr. Kumar,” Miss Gibson greeted him as he walked across the room.
“Hello Miss Gibson, how is Isha adapting to the new routine?” He repeated the same question that he asks almost every other day. His Indian accent is quite pronounced and noticeable when he speaks English.
It has been only 4 years since he came to America. The very first time when he asked the same question, miss Gibson was caught off guard. She thought that he was asking something about ‘adopting’. Since that day, she listens extra carefully when he talks to her.
“Oh, she is doing very well. Very well, indeed!” She repeated.

“Hi Ish, how was your day?”
“Good, I am solving this new puzzle. I am almost done”
“Should we get going?” It was more of a suggestion than a question.
“Just a second dad, two more pieces to fit”
“Okay”
“Oh dad! This is my friend Hailey” She pointed to her friend sitting next to her.
“Oh hi, nice to meet you Hailey!” He said, with a forced smile.
The little girl with blonde hair was looking at him all along, every time he said something. She looked at him once again, this time more curiously, then turned to Isha and said, “ Isha, why is your dad speaking Spanish?”

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