Appy Stories

 Mumbai rains are a celebrity. They are worshipped and enjoyed equivalently. I, too, sit admiring its beauty as the drops pitter-patter on the window planes. The clouds hustle and bustle in the grey expanse like little, eager toddlers waiting to meet their parents after the first day at school. First rains, first love and first day at school are all eternally magical. The streets are washed clean by the torrential downpour. Little, muddy puddles amidst the concrete road cause bumpy agonies making them roads less traveled. The traffic is creating a mayhem at Tilak Nagar, road 19.  Pom...pim..pom.. the honking cacophony is raising its ugly head. Mumbai rains, traffic and potholes are a great recipe for a perfect disaster. As I sit on my cozy couch, sipping hot chocolate, the gnarly woes outside snarl at me. Licking my frothy, smudged lips I tease the street pandemonium. Somebody has trampled his scooty's snout on her Swift Desire's bonnet lips. The vehicles are not very happy wi...

 The shell cracked in spurts. Maybe, it, too, was afraid of the sinister activity inside. But why should it be afraid? It had held not one but many lives hostile in its calcareous bondage. Fear to it was as novel as Saturn is to sunlight. Yet, the egg shell quivered with the possibility of them cramming it under their swarthy, ponderous shadows. Their shadows were enough to kill any life. Whatever their shadows fell on was dead forever. Dead forever?  Yes, this is the story of 3050 when laboratories had transformed into temples and scientists were on pedestal. Man excelled God. For God, too, could never bring a dead to life in the same lifetime but man with white robes and gummy liquids in flasks had stirred and flipped the whole equation. Death was saved as an option for those who defamed the Law of Laboratory. According to the Law, breath can neither be created nor destroyed. It can be transferred from one form to another. The total sum of breaths in the universe always rema...