Mumbai woke up confused.
At 6:02 a.m., the city's collective sleep was shattered as multiple news channels blasted the same headline across screens, radios, chai-stalls, and bus-stop TVs:
"BREAKING: BANKER & HACKER GO VIRAL DURING UNUSUAL 'ALPHA-BETA PARTNERSHIP' DEMO — INDIA REACTS."
Below the headline played the now-infamous clip:A pristine corporate server room, fluorescent lights humming like disapproving aunties, and in the center—
—Nacikate Rao, immaculate suit slightly rumpled, trying to wrestle a malfunctioning portal like a man experiencing all seven stages of grief at once.—Mehul Shah, barefoot, hoodie askew, balancing a packet of chips on his head for no reason except emotional chaos.
The clip looped endlessly.Commentators began speculating wildly.
"Is this the future of digital innovation?""Are banker-hacker pairs the new national strategy?""Is this… romantic tension?""What even IS a beta-hacker–alpha-compliance partnership?!"
The internet, smelling potential mischief, exploded.Hashtags trended like wildfire:
#AlphaBetaPartnership#RaoxShah#NaMeInc#ServerRoomSoulmates#GSTBondingSeason
Even the official GST Twitter account posted an accidental heart emoji before deleting it in shame.
At the Rao Residence
At 7:18 a.m., Nacikate's mother(second father) called.
He answered on autopilot."Good morning—"
"WHAT IS THIS I AM SEEING ON TV?" he shrieked, his voice was so sharp it could've sliced through concrete.
"Maa—"
"They are saying you have partnered with a hacker! A boy! A beta! In a hoodie! On national media! With pastries involved!"
"There were no pastries—"
"SHUT UP, I SAW CUPCAKES."
He closed his eyes. "Maa, please, I need to handle this professionally—"
"Professional? The whole country thinks you've entered some… digital… pheromone-based… partnership!"
He hung up before his maa could continue the sentence.
Meanwhile, in Bandra
Mehul woke up to a notification avalanche.
His landlord texted:
"Are you famous? Can you pay rent early?"
His mother texted a string of emojis that looked suspiciously like fireworks and wedding bells.
Twitter had exploded into fan-art — including one drawing of him and Nacikate fighting a giant tax demon together. He made it his wallpaper immediately.
Then came the inevitable call.
"Broooo," he answered happily.
"Don't 'bro' me," Nacikate snapped from the other end, already vibrating with tension. "Why are we trending nationally?"
"Because," Mehul said, stretching lazily, "we are iconic."
"We are HUMILIATED."
"Humiliated with good lighting," Mehul corrected.
"Get to the bank. NOW."
Mehul grabbed his hoodie and laptop like he was preparing for a field trip.
By 9 a.m., Bharat National Bank had practically abandoned work.Employees crowded around screens, watching the viral clip like it was a cricket match going into Super Over.
Someone had already edited dramatic background music.Someone else added sparkle effects.A third person wore a T-shirt that said "Team Synergy."
When Nacikate walked in, the applause was so loud he considered resigning on the spot.
Rohit, the intern, nervously approached."Sir, um, CNBC wants an interview."
"NO."
"Sir, Times Now also—"
"NO."
"Sir, Buzzfeed India is asking if you two can take their 'Which Government Form Are You' quiz togeth—"
"Rohit," he said quietly, "I will walk into the sea."
Rohit nodded sympathetically and backed away.
Moments later, Mehul strolled in with sunglasses on indoors, waving like a celebrity escaping paparazzi.
"Autographs later, guys, please. My partner gets jealous."
Nacikate inhaled like a man trying not to commit tax fraud in real time.
By 10 a.m., the clips reached international social media.
Foreign news outlets attempted to explain the situation but failed miserably:
"India introduces romantic tax filing?" — UK Daily News"Alpha-Beta government compliance system leaks?" — TechCrunch"Is this a sitcom?" — Everyone
The CEO of Bharat National Bank sent a single-line email:
"WHAT IS GOING ON?"
Nobody had an answer.
Just as Nacikate attempted to sneak into his cabin to die quietly, a new email popped up:
URGENT: Special Joint Crisis MeetingWith CFO Arvind BhattAttendance MandatoryBOTH OF YOU.
Mehul peeked over his shoulder."Ohhhh the CFO wants to see us together. Cute."
"This is not CUTE," Nacikate hissed."This is a crisis."
Mehul patted his shoulder like a proud nuisance."Relax, uncle. Worst case scenario? They fire us both."
"I do not find that comforting."
"I do."
They walked toward the boardroom.
Employees whispered.Cupcake boxes multiplied.Someone hung a banner reading "TEAMWORK MAKES THE DREAMWORK."
The CFO was waiting inside, pale, sweating, and holding a file as though it contained nuclear launch codes.
He looked at them with the exhausted expression of a man who had seen memes of himself before breakfast.
"Sit," he whispered.
They sat.
The door closed.
And the chaos officially entered Phase Two.