The sky was already crowded, but it thickened further as more gangs unfurled their colors.
From the eastern rooftops rose a cluster of dark kites marked with crescent shapes. Their gang shouted war cries that rolled across the lane like drumbeats.
"Cut them all! No mercy!"
Their reels spun furiously, manja threads scraping loud enough for people nearby to hear. One Qalist boy leaned back with both arms, his kite swooping down on a helpless Neighborhood Kids kite. With a single savage pull, the line snapped. The kids screamed as their kite nosedived into a water tank.
Ajja's voice boomed, half admiring, half mocking:"The Qalist Youths keep up their rampage! That's another one down — they fight like bulls, strong and wild, but let's see if they last till sunset!"
The Qalists howled in victory, chanting their slogan. Dust flew as one boy kicked sand toward his neighbor's reel in a blatant sabotage. Elders shouted warnings, but the boys only laughed.
On the opposite rooftop, a group of white-clad boys raised pale kites painted with faint cross marks. They flew in formation, each line taut, their mouths spouting self-righteous phrases.
"Kite flying is about purity and discipline!" one called out."Win with virtue, not tricks!" another added loudly.
But even as they preached, one boy crouched low, smearing grease across a rival's reel when the owner wasn't looking. The affected kite sagged immediately, its thread slipping uncontrolled until it was cut by a passing Nerd Gang kite.
The holoscreens caught everything. The crowd jeered.
Ajja cackled into his mic: "The Luminus Boys shout virtue with their mouths, sabotage with their hands! Truly holy behavior!"
Laughter rolled across the balconies. The Luminus gang scowled but kept flying, pretending nothing had happened.
Meanwhile, the Nerds, heads bent together, adjusted their spools like lab scientists. One shouted over the noise: "Wind speed has shifted, correction thirty percent left!"
Another obeyed instantly. Their kite cut upward and clipped one of the Luminus kites clean, the thread snapping like brittle wire.
"Equation beats preaching!" Ajja howled.
The balconies thundered. Bets shifted hands faster.
The sky was now alive with dozens of colors and symbols, each rooftop screaming louder than the other. Children on balconies chanted names, waving sweets in the air as though offering bribes to the wind. Drones darted between kites, replaying every cut, every fall, every cheat.
From below, Amma cupped her hands and shouted at Dev, "Don't get yourself tangled again!"
Dev shouted back, already tangled with another boy's line, "I'm winning, Amma! Totally winning!"
The crowd laughed, but Kalki stood quieter than the rest, eyes following the threads as they scraped and snapped. His chest hummed with something he couldn't name. The sky wasn't just colorful anymore — it was alive, full of patterns only he seemed to glimpse.
And somewhere above, the flashy imported kite of Raghu's gang waited, inching closer, aiming straight for him.
The sky above the lane was no longer scattered with colors. It was crowded, alive — a hundred lines stretched taut like an invisible web, crisscrossing until the blue looked stitched together.
Every few seconds came the sharp scrape of thread against thread, followed by the snap of a cut line and the cheer of a rooftop.
"Kai po che!" the cry rang again and again as kites fell from the sky, tails whipping in surrender. Some landed gently on distant terraces, others dived straight into trees or water tanks.
Drones zipped in all directions, catching every clash and replaying them on holoscreens in slow motion, with dramatic zooms.
Ajja's voice boomed through his mic, filling the lane like a stadium announcer:"The Nerd Gang adds another cut — clinical precision! The Firebirds take down a Luminus cross! And ohhh, disaster — the Neighborhood Kids have tangled their own lines again! Minus two!"
Balconies and terraces thundered with laughter. Coins and sweets exchanged hands almost as fast as the reels spun. One uncle shouted across rooftops, "Fifty on the Firebirds next round!" Another answered, "Make it a hundred, they're on a streak!"
The Qalists roared as one of their crescent kites slashed downward, cutting a Firebirds' glitter-border sun clean in half. Leela screamed, "Cheaters!" and yanked out a new kite immediately. Meera kept her calm, already spooling another line.
On the opposite side, the Luminus boys tried to regain dignity, flying their pale kites in formation like monks marching. But the crowd jeered when another one sagged helplessly from a greased reel, snapped almost instantly by the Nerds.
The sky was a warzone. Color against color, line against line, each rooftop screaming louder than the next.
And through it all, Kalki stood a little apart on his terrace, his reel still untouched. He watched the chaos unfold — the surges, the drops, the sudden losses — and something tugged at him. He wasn't just seeing kites; he was seeing patterns. Currents moving. Threads vibrating like notes in a song only he could hear.
Arun nudged him. "Well, philosopher? Or are you writing essays about the wind while we fight?"
Kalki smirked faintly. "Just waiting for the right moment."
Bhaskar grunted, steady as always. "When you fly, don't overthink. The sky doesn't wait."
Kalki nodded. He would fly. But already, the sky wasn't just kites to him. It was something more — a pulsing battlefield, each tug of string like a heartbeat.
And somewhere in that heartbeat, his own pulse was beginning to match.
The war in the sky raged hotter. Every rooftop had its eyes on the holoscreens, shouting over one another, chasing glory and sweets. But not everyone was playing fair.
On the eastern terrace, one of the Qalist youths crouched low, a handful of sand hidden in his fist. His friend's kite was locked in a scrape with a Firebirds' phoenix-tail. Just as the Firebird's reel spun smooth, the Qalist boy hurled the sand straight onto her spool.
The line jammed with a nasty grind. Sparks jumped. Leela gasped as her kite jerked off balance, its glittering tail twisting helplessly. With a hard pull, the Qalist sliced clean through.
The boys roared in victory, pounding their chests, war cries echoing across rooftops. The Firebirds shouted back, furious.
Ajja's commentary cracked like thunder: "Dirty trick by the Qalist Youths! Sand on the reel, elders mark this down! But cut is a cut — they claim the phoenix tail!"
Boos and jeers rolled from balconies. Some uncles laughed, others spat into the street.
On the white-kite rooftop, one of the Luminus boys bent to "fix" his friend's reel, hands too busy for prayer. Grease dripped from his fingers, slicking the spool until it spun uncontrollably.
Moments later, a Nerd Gang triangle darted upward. The greasy line slipped at the worst second, and the pale kite flopped uselessly into a water tank.
The holoscreens replayed the blunder in merciless slow motion.
Ajja howled with laughter. "The Luminus Boys talk purity, but even grease won't save them! Down goes another holy cross!"
The balconies roared with mocking chants. "Grease boys! Grease boys!"
But the girls weren't going to sulk. Leela tied a fresh kite, fire in her eyes. "This time, don't blink!" she snapped.
Her sun-kite shot upward like a rising flame. Meera's voice stayed calm: "Now angle. Hold steady. Wait for the pull."
Threads clashed again, sparks flying against the light. The Firebirds tugged in perfect rhythm, and this time the Qalist line gave way.
The crescent kite spiraled down. The girls screamed in triumph, stamping their feet and clapping.
The crowd erupted with cheers — finally, a fair fight turned their way. Even Ajja grinned. "The Firebirds rise again! That's payback with interest!"
All around, the festival's spirit shifted. It wasn't just play anymore. Cheating, countering, roaring — every rooftop wanted the ₹1,00,000 and the golden reel.
And on his own terrace, Kalki's hands finally moved. His reel spun for the first time, a plain golden kite lifting into the crowded sky.
Arun grinned. "Finally."Bhaskar's eyes narrowed. "Let's see if he flies as well as he talks."
The wind caught the kite, tugging sharp. Kalki adjusted without thinking, his wrist loose, his body leaning with the gust. The plain diamond rose, weaving gently through the chaos.
And for the first time, the crowd noticed it.