Potential short story?

As she danced in a joyous, carefree, manner to the Sufi song that was playing on the local radio station, Tulasi thought that, right then, she was as happy as anyone could possibly be. Mid-twirl, she caught her mother Janani's eye, and they both burst out laughing. Tulasi looked rather ridiculous that afternoon, dancing in the middle of their cramped, sweaty kitchen, with her nightie folded at the knees like a lungi, and tendrils of freshly washed hair escaping from underneath her towel turban. Janani shoved Tulasi out of her kitchen. There was far too much work to be done for her to get caught up in another of her daughter's silly moods.

Tulasi danced right back in and tried to entice her, "Come on, ma! You know you want to twirl with me. It's our favourite song!"

Janani mockingly replied, "True, but who is going to cook tiffin? You?" 

Tulasi shrugged and said, "Try asking your son, you might have better luck. Say, where is he? I haven't seen him all morning, and it is quite unlike him to not be around for tiffin and tea."

"He is out running some errands for me," came her father's voice as he stepped into the kitchen sniffing the air. 

Despite his balding head and a slight paunch, Seshadri looked a good deal younger than his actual fifty five.

"Mmmm... That smells delicious. Whatever are you making, Janu ma?" asked Seshadri.

"Pongal and coconut chutney," replied Janani. 

She looked up at her husband, and they shared a quick smile. 

She said to him, "Why don't you go ahead and make tea for all of us while I finish up here, and then we can all go sit at the table."

Seshadri gave her a mock salute and set about his given task.

Amudhan walked in as the three of them were chatting about something Seshadri had seen on TV. He playfully bonked Tulasi on her head, grabbed himself some Pongal, and sat down with them. 

Brother and sister were a study in contrasts. Where Amudhan was practical, Tulasi was a dreamer. 

Amudhan was focused, street-smart, and hardworking, aided along by a good helping of charm. While proud of his middle class upbringing, Amudhan wanted to rise above that. He was the golden boy - loving, and fiercely protective of his family. 

Tulasi, on the other hand, was more of a free spirit. She liked to dabble in everything. She was always reading, or learning about something. She looked upon life as a quest for meaning, and took far too much pleasure in contemplating things that nobody really cared about. She had half a mind to study philosophy. Her mother, however, would not hear of it.

"Philosophy will not feed you, my dear daughter," Janani would often tell Tulasi.