In a move that no one saw coming, the city of Mumbai was thrown into a deliciously chaotic frenzy this Tuesday as a rogue faction of military chefs attempted to stage an elaborate coup, aptly dubbed "Operation Curry-Coup." News of the uprising spread faster than a bus full of wrong-way tourists trying to navigate Marine Drive, as citizens were asked to choose between curry or chaos. The coup began seamlessly with the pretext of an emergency 'curry shortage,' a crisis remarkably similar to the bread line five years ago when nobody could find gluten-free semolina. The mastermind behind this culinary coup, Colonel Biryani Singh, argued that India's constitutional rights should include an obligatory serving of curry with every meal, and who could disagree? He rallied his troops of the "Culinary Commandos" complete with uniforms stitched from spices and decorated with paprika patches. As people began taking sides, the streets erupted into what can only be described as a "curry riot." Residents armed with rolling pins and frying pans formed lines reminiscent of the finest food stalls in the city. Banners declaring “Curry for the People” and “Masala Mayhem!” swung above as impromptu dance numbers broke out, making even the most coordinated Bollywood numbers look stiff by comparison. The government's response, led by Prime Minister Naan-dar Singh, was equally theatrical. “Operation Curry-Coup is nothing but a spice-tinged façade for discontent,” he declared, brandishing a plate of the finest butter chicken in defense of the nation’s culinary integrity. In an unexpected twist, Singh also announced live cooking competitions on national television, urging the public to get creative in the kitchen rather than the streets. The military chefs, however, did not back down easily. They declared their own national holiday—Curry Freedom Day—and proposed that every dish in the country be immediately renamed in honor of famous curries. As a result, the “National Tuna Salad” became “Coastal Curry Delight” and the “Mango Lassi” was rebranded as “Mango Malai Manifesto.” Fast food chains, not wanting to be left behind, scrambled to update their menus with items like “Curry Nuggets” and “Curry Cola,” which turned out to be just soda with a side of cumin. Local businesses quickly embraced the upheaval. Street vendors flourished as their cleverly named dishes, such as "Coup Curry Kofta" and "Revolutionary Rogan Josh" flew off makeshift stalls faster than the Mumbai local trains during rush hour. Tourists, who organically gravitated toward all the curry-related hashtags, flocked to the city to experience the heat firsthand, prompting the International Spice Council to consider Mumbai for the next World Spice Summit. Ultimately, the coup fizzled out as allies on both sides presented the only feasible resolution: a nationwide curry cook-off featuring the most creative chefs from both the military and civilian circles. Colonel Biryani Singh and Prime Minister Naan-dar Singh were unexpectedly discovered to be distant relatives and agreed to a family-style meal, complete with a lavish buffet of every curry imaginable, thus restoring peace and spicy peace to Mumbai. In the end, the only real casualty of "Operation Curry-Coup" was a batch of overcooked naan that became the laughingstock of the nation. As Mumbai returned to normal, residents were left with memories of dancing, culinary chaos, and the unquenchable understanding that perhaps, just perhaps, too much cuisine excitement can lead to a spicy uprising.