India, Aug. 28 -- Alarming sounds roused me from my siesta: A screech, a rumble, and a thud. I rushed upstairs to find my sons locked in a scuffle, hurling their choicest invectives. "Boys, you're past your teens, grow up!" I yelled. "We're settling this man-to-man," came the sharp retort. "Why not sit down and talk?" I threw the time-tested volley: "Dad will hear and come up." That forced a ceasefire, sending me downstairs to recall their endless childhood brawls, shoves, and bruises. Within an hour, the brothers descended, fully dressed and off to a friend's house together. What on earth was all the hullabaloo about? As parents, we are perpetually privy to the sibling squabble. The bone of contention might be a stolen pencil, a sly look, a nickname shouted at school, or a leg deliberately stretched out to cause a trip. Annoying each other was always their favourite hobby, with the badge of parental partiality pinned on us time and again. My three kids would often pair up, leaving an odd one out through combinations beyond comprehension. Trying to defuse the situation, I'd team up with the odd one, bribing them with a treat. Yet those naughty elves were tough nuts to crack; the recipient would invariably grab three candies and rush back to share. Within minutes, camaraderie was restored, leaving me feeling like the sole culprit. Bonded by blood and tied by love, they remain thick partners in crime. All my tactics to extract secrets fail-it stays an eternal mystery who broke the headlight or where the savouries disappeared. When the elder two left for higher education in different cities, holidays brought a lively shift. They would regale us with anecdotes, filling the quiet house with laughter and affection. But all of a sudden, the boarders and the 'Mama's pet' would be back at loggerheads. Volleys of the 'real truth' shuttled between the 'independents' and the 'pampered,' culminating in the inevitable stomp of a foot, a shouted "pack your bags and leave," and a lecturing session on my parenting skills. Right now, loud dissenting voices are flowing from the living room. Raksha Bandhan is here, and I suspect they are debating their Rakhi choices. Gone are the days when parents simply bought sweets and secretly slipped cash for presents. Gen-Z believes in equality: The size of the hamper must be directly proportional to the return gift. Mercifully, the emphasis isn't on price, but on aesthetics, emotional quotient, and utility. Next on the agenda will undoubtedly be whether to wear ethnic or casual outfits. Before they stomp out and disperse, I intend to take advantage of this friendly banter. I'll extract a consensus update from their democratic, gender-neutral chore chart to settle who wakes up first and whose turn it is to help. Peace is nice, but these loud, chaotic moments are what truly make life lively....