Kambi’s smile faded. He looked at the bewildered commuters, the honking cars, the frightened child clutching his mother’s hand. He realized his jokes had crossed from harmless fun to real trouble.

“” Kambi giggled. “(I’m a mischief that never sleeps, straight out of your cartoon!)” 4. Mischief in the Campus Word spread fast. Students at the college saw a flash of orange darting between lecture halls, stealing sambhar from the canteen and hiding it in the library’s “quiet zone.” Professors tried to catch him, but Kambi always slipped away, leaving behind a trail of tiny footprints and the faint scent of pazham pori .

Veena hurried to the scene, her heart thudding. She found Kambi perched atop a traffic light, laughing so hard his orange kurta fluttered like a flag.

“” he chirped, bowing low. “ Njan Kambi aanu! ” (I am Kambi!)

Veena, watching from behind the curtains, realized that Kambi’s antics were doing something she had never managed in the classroom—bringing joy and breaking the monotony of routine. But mischief has its limits. One night, Kambi sneaked into the municipal office and swapped the city’s traffic signs. The next morning, the streets of Kochi turned into a chaotic carnival—cars stopped at a “Stop” sign that was really a “Go” sign, and vice‑versa. Horns blared, people shouted, and a few pedestrians found themselves in the middle of a pookalam ‑shaped roundabout.

Veena stared, half‑amazed, half‑terrified. “You’re… alive?” she asked.

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