"Ayyo Spandana, now even Netflix got scared of your stare? Pause the psycho murder and help me move this sofa!" yelled her younger sister, Harika, stomping into the living room like a hurricane in pajamas The news of Spandana's transfer to Mumbai spread faster than her mom's coconut oil over a wound. By breakfast, the neighborhood knew. By lunch, the drama began.
"I'm busy training my brain cells to be ten steps ahead of serial killers," Spandana deadpanned, eyes glued to the TV. Her friends—Yuktha, Nayanika, Sowmya, Pallavi, and Sharmila showed up like a bridal procession, only instead of flowers and turmeric, they carried tissues and emotional blackmail.
Harika rolled her eyes so hard they nearly dislocated. "You slapped your boss and now think you're in a Nolan film? Spandy FBI, huh?"
"You're going to Mumbai?" Yuktha wailed, clinging to Spandana's arm like a vine. "It's a jungle out there. With guns. And gangs. And men!"
"Better than being the family volcano who explodes when someone forgets to close the toothpaste cap," Spandana smirked.
Spandana smirked, "You just described our college fest, Yuktha."
"Shut up, Rakshasi. I love you but I swear I'll glue your mouth one day," Harika said, chucking a pillow at her.
Nayanika pulled her into a hug, sobbing dramatically. "We found our soulmates. And you… you're finding handcuffs and mafia dons."
Spandana caught it mid-air. "You'll miss me when I get posted to some mafia-infested city and become a legend."
Sowmya added, "You could've at least caught one decent guy before shipping yourself off like some criminal Simba."
"Hah! You'll be in jail before that. Or a motivational speaker on 'Anger Issues 101'."
"I'd rather catch criminals than chlamydia from your exes," Spandana deadpanned.
They burst into laughter before their mom yelled from the kitchen, "Stop throwing pillows! You two fight like criminals and then eat from the same plate like nothing happened."
Pallavi and Sharmila simultaneously burst into a mix of laughter and tears. "She roasts in defense mode," Pallavi whispered, fanning her eyes.
Their dad peeked over his newspaper, smiling. "At least they're not chasing criminals through traffic today."
Harika shoved a lad from the neighborhood who tried to eavesdrop. "Oi, get your hormonal nose outta our porch or I'll plant you in the soil like tulsi."
Spandana high-fived her. "Atta girl. That's my mini me, just with more aggression and less guilt."
She stared at the screen, unreadable. Her heart thudded once, but her face remained calm.
AT THE AIRPORT:-
The two sisters then roasted three auto drivers, a tea vendor who dared to flirt, and a distant cousin who commented, "Police girls should behave more… soft."
Sharvani peeked over her shoulder. "Uh-oh. Mumbai? Big guns. Bigger gangs. And worse traffic. You're gonna be in shootouts and Zoom meetings. God save Mumbai."
"You want soft?" Spandana asked sweetly, stepping forward. "I can give you a soft landing. Off this balcony."
Spandana looked at her sister, then grinned. "Ready for one last war of words before I leave, short fuse?"
Harika added, "We don't serve misogyny with chai. Try the next house. They believe in horoscope-based patriarchy."
"Always, buff biceps. And don't worry. I'll do your laundry with tears and drama."
Even in the middle of the goodbyes and emotional drama, the two sisters turned the whole lane into a comedy stage.
"That's touching. But please don't burn my clothes in emotional rage like last time."
And then came the crisp white envelope that arrived via an officer on a scooter—official summons to attend the transfer briefing at the City Police Headquarters the next morning.
"One time, Spandana! ONE TIME!"
Her mother, still mid-puja, froze. "Ayyoo Bhagwan! Again this girl is going into snake pit cities!"
The room erupted in laughter again.
Her dad just folded his newspaper and smiled. "At least the TV remote is mine now."
But inside Spandana, a silent fire lit up. Mumbai. A new chapter. New chaos. And her name was already on its storm Spandana clutched the envelope, looked around at her chaotic world of tears, love, sarcasm, and sisters—and grinned.
"Time to stir some shit in Mumbai."