It was late afternoon, and the kitchen was filled with overlapping sounds: the slow ticking of the wall clock, the faint hiss of rice cooking on the stove, and a weak, pulsating bass emanating from the earbuds that hung loosely around Aarav’s neck.

Aarav himself sat at the small wooden table, hunched over his laptop. He was rhythmically tapping his fingers on the surface, editing a beat for his new track. In his hands, he held some kind of strange fruit—or perhaps a nut—and Aarav, frowning, was trying to crack it open with his nails, quietly muttering about its stubborn shell.

Then, without warning, his mother appeared in the doorway. The air shifted immediately.

She was wearing a bright yellow sari and held a ladle like a weapon of justice.

“Aarav! Again this music nonsense? You promised to clean the veranda an hour ago!”

Her voice rose and fell with all the authority of a seasoned general, carrying the full weight of a thousand unfinished chores.

She moved toward the counter, scolding continuously, and on her way, placed a firm, almost dismissive hand on his head, as if to remind him who ruled the kitchen. That was the spark. Aarav froze for half a second, then lifted his head, and a glint of mischief flared in his eyes. He turned in his chair, trying to defend himself.

“Ma, just one minute—”

But she wasn’t done. The lecture kept flowing, the words were sharp and perfectly on tempo, though she didn't realize it.

Aarav’s irritation instantly transformed into a rhythm that formed in his chest. His lips moved before he could even think.

A loud, confident beat burst from him: "b-tk-ts, b-tk-ts!" The kitchen filled with this rhythm; her scolding became the verses, his beatboxing the bassline. It was chaos, it was art—it was perfection.

His mother turned, her eyebrows lifting in disbelief, her lecture momentarily thrown off-beat. Then came the clang.

A steel bowl, swift and merciless, cut through the air—and with a single metallic clang! Aarav toppled backward, chair and all, still half-beatboxing as he hit the floor.

The music stopped. So did Aarav. And the only sound louder than the ringing in his ears... was his mother’s triumphant sigh.