Notes from Middle-Class Home

INT. SHARED BEDROOM (YESS.. cuz, middle class.. 5 people and 2 bedrooms)– NIGHT (FLASHBACK WITHIN NIGHT)

Sagar is sitting cross-legged on his bed, phone glowing in the dim light.
Earphones plugged in, Lo-fi beats playing faintly.

He scrolls to Settings → Digital Wellbeing → App Timers.

SAGAR (to himself, smug):
"Let's see how long you two survive with 30 minutes of YouTube. Heh."

🎧 SFX: Click. Lock. Confirm. Parental Control ON.

He grins wickedly and renames the folder holding the timer settings to:
"Tax Documents (BORING)"

ME (voice-over):
"Thus, the seeds of betrayal were planted in the glow of a budget smartphone, under a mosquito net of deceit."

He tosses the phone on the side table with the flair of a Bond villain. but takes it again and walks over to the balcony to listen music and relax under moonlight ..

SAGAR (mock whisper to imaginary camera):
"Operation: Little Sisters' Doom – executed."

INT. BALCONY – NIGHT
The light from inside spills gently through the mesh door.
Ravi stands at the railing with a steel tumbler of water.
Sagar joins him, phone in hand, silent for a moment.

🎧 SFX: Faint night crickets. A scooter passes in the distance.

RAVI (not looking at him):
"Screen chustunnav... but screen paina life undadu, ra."

(You're looking at a screen... but life isn't inside it.)

SAGAR (half-smiling):
"Just seeing what apps are there, Nanna. I didn't even install PUBG yet."

RAVI (deadpan):
"Yet?... Good. First EAMCET score kottu. Tarvata emaina chey."

(Good. First—score well in EAMCET. After that, do what you want.)

(A small pause. Ravi sips water. His tone stays soft, but lands hard.)

RAVI:
"Phone ichaanu ani... phone lone pothav ante vadileyala?
College lo CSE ante kadu—competition enti, EMI enti, naaku baaga thelusu. Neeku kooda thelusu..."

(I gave you the phone. But if you disappear into it... should I just let you go?
CSE in college isn't a joke. I know the competition, the EMIs—we both do.)

SAGAR (quiet):
"I'll study, Nanna. Promise."

RAVI:
"Ikkada promise kaadhu. Rank techhi chupinchali.
Tharvatha edi kaavalante konukko.
Kaani—nenu oka normal assistant manager ni, anedhi marchipoku.
But first... seat techuko."

(It's not about promising here. Show it in your rank.
After that, buy whatever you want.
But remember—I'm just a regular assistant manager.
So first... earn that seat.)

(He gives a small nod and walks back in.)

🎧 SFX: The mesh door creaks gently as it closes.

Sagar looks down at the phone in his hand.
The glow lights up his face... but not the thoughts behind it.
His father's words settle in—
heavier than the device itself.

He wanted music.
But dreams, in his household, were luxuries—not career paths.
And middle-class families?
They don't gamble on guitar strings.
They invest in ranks and results.

ME (voice-over, softer now):
"And just like that... under stars, over steel tumblers, and between unspoken expectations...
a deal was struck.
Study first.
Screens later.
Soul? — maybe later."

ME (beat, muttering):
"Phew 😅... that hit, didn't it?
Not the dreams sinking...
But the reality, settling in."

INT. KIDS' BEDROOM – NIGHT

The ceiling fan spins slow and rhythmic. Moonlight filters through the window grille.
Navya snores lightly, clutching a teddy bear that's missing one eye.
Sagar is still on his phone — brightness dimmed.
Sahaja lies still on her mattress, arms crossed behind her head.

A beat of silence.

SAHAJA (softly):
"Nanna said no one in this house is allowed to dream more than necessary."

SAGAR (without looking up):
"He said the same thing to me last year. When I asked if I could join guitar classes."

SAHAJA (turns to him):
"You still think about it?"

SAGAR (a pause):
"Every time I listen to AR Rahman."

A long silence.

SAHAJA:
"I don't even know what I want. Sometimes I think maybe I want to be a writer. Or a scientist. Or... I don't know. Something. But it's like... if it costs extra, or doesn't come with a rank card, it's off-limits."

SAGAR (quiet):
"Then don't ask. Just do it quietly. One step at a time."

NAVYA (suddenly sitting up, groggy):
"Who took the red sketch pen from my pouch?"

SAHAJA:
"...What?"

NAVYA:
"I'm serious. It was my pen. I kept it next to the yellow one. Now it's gone. Is this what betrayal feels like?"

SAGAR (groaning):
"It's 12:30 in the night, Navya. This is not a crime investigation show."

NAVYA:
"I trusted this family."

(She dramatically lies back down, pulling the blanket over her head.)

ME (voice-over):
"And just like that... the philosophical weight of crushed dreams was flattened by a missing red pen."

SAHAJA (under breath):
"...selectovert problems."

SAGAR:
"Go to sleep before Nanna hears."

NAVYA (from under blanket):
"He'll never understand this injustice."

ME (voice-over):
"And so the night settled — not with closure, not with clarity... but with quiet.
In a room shared by ambitions, interruptions, and secondhand dreams,
some kids tried to sleep.
Some kids tried to dream.
And one kid mourned a sketch pen."

THAT'S ALL FOR THIS CHAPTER.. LET'S SEE THE NEXT MORNING CHAOS IN THE NEXT CHAPTER CANDLES..