The sky thickened with kites, and slowly, patterns emerged. It wasn't just chaos — each rooftop was a team with its own style.
On the far terrace, the youngest gang had taken over their uncle's rooftop, reels almost bigger than their arms. Their kites were crooked diamonds made of newspaper, tails patched with plastic bags.
"Up, up, UP!" one of them shouted, tugging so hard the reel nearly flew out of his hands. His kite lurched up, then sideways, immediately tangling into his friend's. Both shouted in panic, running in circles until the threads tightened and snapped.
Two kites fluttered down together like broken leaves. The balconies howled with laughter.
Ajja's voice boomed: "Disaster for the Neighborhood Kids! Two soldiers down by friendly fire!"
The kids didn't care. They simply grabbed new kites and sent them up again, chanting at the top of their lungs, "Cut! Cut! Cut!"
Next rooftop over, three boys adjusted their reels with the precision of surgeons. Their spools had little attachments — measuring rods, tension locks, even a tiny wind vane that one of them kept adjusting.
"Angle thirty-five degrees, hold steady," one barked."Thread pressure forty grams, release in three… two…" another counted.
Their kite shot upward like it had rehearsed a hundred times. It didn't dance wildly like others — it climbed sharp and straight, cutting across diagonally until it locked onto a target.
With a quick flick, it sliced an unsuspecting kite clean.
The holoscreens replayed the perfect cut from three angles. The boys high-fived like scientists who had just cracked a formula.
"First official cut goes to the Nerd Gang!" Ajja announced. "They may not dance, but they calculate!"
Across the lane, the girls' gang took the spotlight. Leela stood at the front, fists on her hips, barking orders like a general.
"Pull left! Hold steady! Don't let them cut your line!"
Their kites were impossible to miss — painted bright with suns, flowers, and glittering borders that shimmered when they caught the light. One had a phoenix tail that spiraled like fire.
"Cut them! Don't let any boy show off!" Leela yelled, hair flying as she tugged her reel.
Her kite dove like a hawk, clashing with a Qalist boy's crescent kite. Sparks flew where the threads scraped. For a breath, it looked like the boy might win. Then Meera's calm voice floated from behind:
"Steady. Pull now."
Leela yanked hard. The boy's line snapped. His kite fluttered, helpless.
The Firebirds burst into cheers, clapping and chanting, "Firebirds! Firebirds!"
Ajja laughed so loud his mic cracked. "And the Firebirds claim their first victim! Boys, the sky is not yours alone!"
The sky had filled fast. By now there were nearly a hundred kites weaving and darting above the lane — reds, yellows, greens, even a purple box kite swaying like it didn't belong. Threads hummed as they stretched taut, crossing and scraping against one another like swords.
"Hold it steady!" shouted one of the Neighborhood Kids, his tiny arms trembling against the pull of the wind. His kite veered too close to the Nerd Gang's precision triangle. With a crisp tug, the Nerds sliced clean through it.
"Another cut for the Nerd Gang!" Ajja bellowed. "That's two in a row — efficiency like a railway timetable!"
The holoscreens replayed it in slow motion, the kids' kite tail fluttering away while the Nerds' shot upward like a soldier saluting.
The balconies roared with chants. "Kai po che! Kai po che!" — the festival cry for every victory.
Across the rooftops, the Firebirds locked onto another target. Leela's bright phoenix-tail kite swooped low, grazing dangerously close to a Luminus boy's white kite marked with a faint cross.
"Fly higher!" the boy shouted, sweat dripping."Now, cut!" Leela commanded.
Threads scraped, sparks flying in the sunlight. Meera's calm hands guided the reel just enough for Leela to pull the winning tug. The white kite lurched, line snapping — the Firebirds howled in triumph.
"Another one down! The Firebirds are on fire!" Ajja crowed.
From the Luminus rooftop came cries of protest."That was luck!""They cheated! Girls don't play fair!"
Leela cupped her hands around her mouth and shouted back, "Better than hiding behind fake purity!"
Laughter rolled from balconies and terraces. Even a few of the uncles clapped at her boldness.
Meanwhile, the Qalist youths made their presence felt. Their crescent kites flew sharp and fast, lines reinforced with thick manja. With war cries that shook the rooftops, they cut down two smaller kites in a row.
"Qalists strike again!" Ajja announced. "That's brute force, not beauty — but it works!"
The holoscreens showed the two falling kites fluttering helplessly onto water tanks below, tails catching in the antennas.
For every cut, a roar. For every fall, a groan. Coins exchanged hands, sweets passed between balconies, neighbors scribbling furious tallies of bets.
The festival was no longer just color — it was combat. The sky itself seemed to pulse with the rhythm of cheers and chants.
And Kalki, standing with his reel still untouched, watched quietly. His eyes followed the clashes, the pulls, the sharp tugs and sudden drops. He didn't move yet — but something in him stirred as the battles grew louder.
The cheers and chants from early cuts were still echoing when a fresh wave of noise swept the rooftops. Heads turned toward the lane's far terrace.
Raghu had arrived.
He stood with his right hand wrapped in a thick bandage, face twisted in irritation. Behind him, his lackeys carried trays stacked with imported reels and glossy kites — bold patterns with metallic shine, tails longer than the rooftops themselves.
Ajja wasted no time. "And here comes the Raghu Gang, marching in with more sparkle than skill! Will they last longer than his rash?"
The balconies burst out laughing, but Raghu ignored them, jaw clenched. He raised his bandaged hand and barked, "Don't laugh. Today we'll show you who owns this sky!"
One lackey scrambled to set up a massive reel with reinforced thread. Another unfolded a kite that glinted like polished steel, its surface reflecting sunlight into the watching drones.
"Imported," Raghu announced proudly. "CSA-approved line. Not your cheap lane strings."
"CSA approved?" someone shouted from a balcony. "Or bought from the same merchant who sold you the powders?"
The rooftops roared again. Raghu's face burned, but he turned his anger into a glare at Kalki's group.
"There," he pointed with his good hand, finger stabbing the air. "That one. Cut his kite first."
The lackeys nodded. Their reels whirred as they prepared, their flashy kite rising slowly into the sky like a challenge banner.
Kalki blinked. He hadn't even tied his thread yet.
Leela groaned from the Firebirds' side. "See? He's obsessed with you. Not me, not the Nerds — you."
Arun nudged Kalki with a grin. "Well, philosopher, looks like you're today's headline."
Bhaskar said nothing, only tightening his grip on his reel, calm as stone.
Ajja's voice boomed over the holoscreens. "And the challenge is thrown! The Raghu Gang has marked the Kalki Crew! The duel of the day may come sooner than we think!"
The entire lane leaned forward, eyes flicking between rooftops, waiting for the real battle to ignite.