"Shobi! Get uppppp!" Sundar's voice exploded through the room like an alarm clock with vengeance as he shook his sister awake.

"Inu five minutes," (Five more minutes) Shobhana groaned, pulling the blanket over her head like it could shield her from his relentless energy. But before she could sink back into the comfort of half-sleep, she was met with the shock of her life—a splash of cold water.

"Oh my GOD!" she shrieked, shooting up from her bed like a cat tossed into a swimming pool. Her glare could've melted metal. "Yenda?" (Why, man?) she screeched at Sundar, who was cackling like a cartoon villain.

"You've got university!" he smirked, walking away triumphantly.

"It's at 9:30! It's 5:30 a.m., you psycho!" she bellowed, but Sundar had already disappeared, laughing all the way to his room.

Muttering curses about ungrateful brothers under her breath, Shobhana flopped back onto her bed for a second before deciding it wasn't worth it. Fine. She was up. Happy?

Shobhana Kumar. Aspiring photographer. Future 20-year-old. Current victim of sibling harassment.

She shuffled into her morning routine, grumbling like a grumpy bear woken up in winter. Bed? Made. Teeth? Brushed. Shower? Too early for hot water, so cold, miserable, and cursed Sundar again. Clothes? Standard messy bun, t-shirt, jeans, and flannel combo. She squinted at the mirror. Presentable? Eh, close enough.

By 7:30 a.m., she was fully functional, even slightly thankful Sundar had woken her up so early because oops, she'd forgotten to print out a crucial assignment. Setting up her laptop and printer, she worked fast, glaring at the loading bar like it personally wronged her. Just as the final sheet slid out, her phone rang.

"Hey, I'm leaving, okay? Bye," Sundar's voice came through the line.

"Yeah, yeah, bye," she muttered.

"HELLOOOOO!" another voice screamed through the phone, nearly blowing out her eardrum.

"Jeez, woman!" Shobhana winced. "What, Kriti?"

"Yes, Kriti. Your only friend, and you're LATE. Hurry up!" Kriti's dramatic voice was almost a match for Sundar's. "On my way. Bye," Shobhana said, stuffing her printed papers into her bag like her life depended on it.

By 9:30 a.m., she and Kriti slid into campus like two ninjas sneaking past the gates of doom.

"Shobhana. Kriti. My office. Now," came the ominous voice of the dean as he walked past.

Shobhana threw her hands up dramatically. "Ipa enna va?" (What now?) she groaned, while Kriti shrugged, looking equally clueless.

Inside the dean's office, they sat down like two kids summoned to the principal's office. "Relax, you're not in trouble," the dean said, chuckling at their tense faces. "You've both been selected as photographers for the IPL."

"Wait. What?" Kriti's eyes widened.

"Here are the details. Each of you will be handling two teams," he explained, handing them thick files.

"Hold up. The IPL?" Kriti asked again, as if she couldn't trust her own ears. "You mean the Indian Premier League? With, like, actual cricketers?"

"No, Kriti, the neighborhood gully cricket tournament," Shobhana deadpanned, flipping through the file.

"Thank you, sir!" Kriti said, her excitement overpowering her sarcasm detectors.

"Oh, and by the way," the dean added, "you don't have class today. You've got a flight to catch. Everything for your stay has been arranged."

"WHAT?!" Shobhana and Kriti yelped in unison.

"Thank you, sir!" Kriti managed to squeak before dragging Shobhana out. "Did we just get drafted into the big leagues?" she whispered, her face a mix of terror and glee.

"Yeah," Shobhana muttered, blinking at the chaos unfolding around her. "We're officially in over our heads."