In a dimly lit room of a modest 3BHK apartment in Mumbai, a young man sat hunched over his desk, fingers flying across the keyboard with a speed that could rival a typist on steroids. His messy black hair looked like it hadn't seen a comb in days, and his black t-shirt had mysterious stains he had long since stopped questioning. The only source of light, apart from his laptop screen, was the faint glow from his second monitor, where StackUnderflow and CloseAI were open, his two lifelines in the world of coding.
The whirring of the ceiling fan mixed with the occasional honks and distant yelling from the streets below. The heat was unbearable, but opening the window meant inviting mosquitoes to an all-you-can-eat buffet, so he suffered in silence. His wheatish skin glistened with a thin layer of sweat as he squinted at the screen, watching the deep-learning model he had just executed.
The little spinning wheel on the screen tested his patience. Five minutes turned into ten, ten into an hour, and yet the code refused to yield results. Frustration bubbled within him until an epiphany struck like a bolt of lightning.
"Arre yaar, my laptop is an i3… no wonder it's moving at snail speed," he muttered, rubbing his forehead.
Realizing the futility of waiting for a decade for the code to run, he pushed himself away from the desk and stretched. His back cracked like an old wooden door, a sign that too many nights spent in front of the screen were catching up to him. His gaze swept over the battlefield that was his room—empty pizza boxes stacked like a fort, soda cans rolling under the bed, and abandoned chai cups gathering dust on the desk.
He sighed. He would have ignored the mess for another day, but then he remembered—his mom was going to video-call in the evening.
"Maa is going to roast me alive if she sees this. She'll start with 'Beta, yeh kya haal bana rakha hai?' [T/n: son what mess have you made] and end up talking about shaadi (marriage) somehow," he groaned, knowing very well that she had an unparalleled talent for linking everything to marriage.
Reluctantly, he began tidying up, shoving wrappers into a trash bag, wiping down surfaces, and vacuuming with an energy that could only be mustered under maternal fear. An hour later, the room was somewhat presentable. Not pristine, but at least it didn't look like a raccoon's lair anymore.
His reward? A cup of chai.
The kitchen was just as tragic as his room, but he ignored the pile of unwashed dishes and focused on making his drink. Within minutes, he walked back to his desk, the hot cup in one hand, checking his laptop screen with the other.
30% done.
"What kind of sasta (cheap) NASA project am I running, man…" he grumbled, sitting on the bed, deciding to kill time with some mindless scrolling.
Just as he was about to play something on his phone, a notification popped up—his friend had sent him a reel.
He tapped on it absentmindedly.
Big mistake.
A sultry, high-pitched voice screamed from his phone, "Yamete kudasai~!" at full volume.
Panic struck.
His hand jerked, and in his haste to silence the sound before his neighbors thought he was hosting an anime audition, he spilled the scorching chai onto his laptop.
"Abe… Bhen… MAA CH—" His curses were cut short as he scrambled to save his dying machine. In his attempt to wipe the keyboard with his t-shirt, his elbow knocked over the cup entirely, sending the remaining tea flooding onto his desk, seeping into the wires.
A crackling sound filled the room.
Then, a zap.
The last thing he remembered was a sharp jolt of electricity coursing through his body before his vision blacked out. His lips parted to let out one final thought before everything faded:
"…Madarch-…"
After a few hours, the guy woke up to the relentless ringing of his phone. Groggily, he opened his eyes and sat up, his head throbbing like he had just gone through a round of WWE with his own furniture. As he took in his surroundings, memories of his tragic chai accident came rushing back, making him bolt upright.
"Shit, my laptop!" he muttered, scrambling off the bed.
Before anything, he glanced at the phone screen—his mother was calling.
"Of course," he sighed, silently cursing his luck.
Ignoring the call for now, he rushed to the bathroom, stripping off his clothes hastily. A quick glance in the mirror confirmed his worst fear—nothing had changed. No scars, no burns, not even a dramatic lightning-shaped mark like Harry Potter. Just dried tea stains on his skin.
"Well, at least I'm not dead…" he mumbled in relief, stepping into the shower.
After freshening up, he tackled the mess in his room, groaning in agony at the sight of his damaged laptop. Not because the laptop was beyond saving, but because now he'd have to redo all that godforsaken code from scratch.
"This is a nightmare," he muttered, holding back tears.
Luckily, his parents were out of town for a relative's wedding and wouldn't be back until the next evening. Or so he thought.
He called his mom back.
"Beta, why didn't you pick up earlier?" she asked, concern evident in her voice.
"Oh, I fell asleep, Maa. The phone was on silent," he lied smoothly. "Just woke up, freshened up, and saw your calls."
His mother sighed but didn't press further. "Okay, but take care of yourself. Your father and I will be delayed. The relatives are insisting we stay for a few more days, so we'll be back after two days."
His face lit up. "Oh? That's… unfortunate."
He tried to sound disappointed, but inside, he was rejoicing.
Three full days to come up with an excuse to avoid getting his ass whooped? A blessing.
After some idle chitchat about eating on time and bathing regularly, he ended the call and sat in his chair. His laptop was the next concern. Maybe it was still salvageable?
Tentatively, he reached out and pressed the power button.
A soft crackling sound.
Then, the laptop deconstructed itself before his very eyes, disintegrating into a pile of metallic dust.
"What the fu—?!"
Panic surged through him. Before he could process it, his hand accidentally brushed against his phone.
It, too, crumbled into dust.
"Oh, bhai… what is happening?!"
He froze, breathing heavily. His heart pounded against his ribs as the realization dawned—whatever had zapped him earlier had left him with some weird ability. He held up his trembling hands, debating whether to test it again.
"No, no, no. If I touch something else, what if I turn the whole house into dust?!" he whispered, horrified.
For a brief second, he even considered pinching himself to see if this was a dream. But then a more terrifying thought crossed his mind—
"What if I turn myself into dust? I don't want to die a virgin!"
Taking a deep breath, he calmed himself. He needed to figure this out. Maybe he could reverse whatever had happened? He stared at the dust piles and tried… something. Anything.
He chanted "Abracadabra!" Nothing.
"Shazam!" Nope.
"Open sesame?" Still nothing.
After several more failed attempts, he groaned and slumped onto the bed.
"Bhai, what kind of cheap Thanos have I become?"
-[End]-