SAHAJA (confused):
You're following who? What are you even talking about?
SAGAR (half-turns, brushing her off lightly):
No one. Just... going to temple early.
SAHAJA (frowns):
You already go every evening. Since when did you become the early-riser spiritual type?
SAGAR (dry):
Since Amma started calling me "waste fellow with too much phone screen."
Figured I'd earn some grace points.
SAHAJA:
You're lying.
(beat)
You're bad at lying.
SAGAR (reaches for his BLUE hoodie, voice calm):
I'm just catching up on missed lessons. Nothing to worry about.
He smiles faintly. It's too controlled.
SAHAJA (steps forward):
Sagar—if this is about the note—
SAGAR (gently cuts in):
Drink some water.
Do your maths revision.
Stay inside till I get back, okay?
(beat)
That's all I'm asking.
SAHAJA (quiet):
And what are you doing?
SAGAR (zipping hoodie, almost soft):
What big brothers are born to do.
He leaves before she can answer.
The door swings gently shut behind him.
EXT. STREET – MOMENTS LATER
Morning sun spills golden on the sleepy colony lane.
Dogs bark in the distance. A milkman cycles past.
Sagar walks fast from the room, head low.
No bag. No books.
Just one hand clenched in his pocket.
INT. LIVING ROOM – SAME TIME
She's still staring at the door.
Fingers frozen mid-braid.
SAHAJA (muttering):
What do you mean 'born to do'—what are you, some Telugu Batman?
She turns back to the mirror.
Worry creeping up behind her eyes.
She stares at the closed door.
Then back at her half-braided hair in the mirror.
Then—
SAHAJA (sharp):
Oh hell no.
EXT. HOUSE VERANDAH – MOMENTS LATER
Sagar is halfway down the stairs, hoodie zipped, focused.
He doesn't even hear the door creak behind him.
SAHAJA (off-screen):
OYE!
Sagar turns.
Too late.
She grabs his hoodie from behind and drags him backwards like a shopping cart.
SAGAR (stumbling):
Wha—Sahaja?! What are you—?
SAHAJA (dead serious):
Do whatever big brothers do.
Fight evil. Chase men. Burn cities.
But NOT before breakfast, idiot.
SAGAR (confused):
Wait what—
SAHAJA (slamming the gate shut behind him):
You think you'll protect me on an empty stomach? You'll faint mid-punch and become the victim.
(beat)
SAGAR (mock offended):
I've had water.
SAHAJA:
Water is for plants.
You're an Andhra Pradesh boy, not a cactus.
YOU ARE READING
Notes from Middle-Class Home
Non-FictionSahaja is our girl. Fifteen-okay, almost sixteen. Living in a house where the walls are thin, emotions thinner, and someone is always yelling "STUDY!" ...while Amma and Appa watch serials in the next room. Privacy? Myth. Microwave? What's that? The...
