abhidipta mallik
Stories (20/0)
Mom's the word
15th April 2018 "Why isn't this stupid robot working?" Ben Tudor screamed. An unprecedented adrenaline rush made its way through Ben's veins and arteries. Natalia, his teammate, said firmly, "Calm down Ben, Let's debug". Fastidiously they looked for faults in the circuit. They had less than thirty seconds. "The gas detecting sensor is not receiving power. See the red LED light is turned on.", pointed out Natalie as both desperately tried to unearth the cause of malfunction in their robot. "Oh! no, the sub-wire is disconnected", Ben was dejected. They cannot afford such errors at this crucial time. Natalia spontaneously connected the wire and the green LED light near the gas detecting sensor got turned on. Within 10 seconds the robot started to function. After one hour there was this announcement "The winner of this year's robotics competition is Nathalia Josef and Ben Tudor." The winners started screaming and jumping, their hearts thumping. It was late evening when Ben returned home. He took the trophy to the balcony, looked up at the sky. The sky was clear, with about 4 nights left for the full moon, slightly windy which occasionally brought the long hair of Ben on his eyes. "Mom this is for you" He pointed the trophy at the sky -eyes fixed at a particular star, tears rolling.
By abhidipta mallik2 years ago in Fiction
All work and no play made Robbie a dull, inefficient, and unsociable man
The plaque "Miles to go before I sleep" arrogantly stares at me, hanging from the cyber yellow colored wall right in front of my office desk. I, however, barely get the chance to look at it as I remain submerged in a pile of files and a computer screen. Poetry and my current lifestyle do not go hand in hand. But poetry used to be a huge part of my student life. When I joined the company as an intern, after graduation, I fell in love with the Robert Frost poem "Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening". It was probably the last poem I read seven years ago.
By abhidipta mallik2 years ago in Humans
Blood is thicker than water
On a fine Sunday afternoon, two months ago, Charles Roseland was relaxing on his majestic bed. The bed was handcrafted to accommodate 7000 calico-pocketed springs for consummate weight distribution and the mattress consisted of a luxurious blend of cashmere, mohair, British fleece wool, and lambswool. His eyes were directed towards the jumbo floor-to-ceiling windows, but he was not staring at the majestic New York skyline view. Instead, he was reminiscing about his childhood days. His memory time machine took him 80 years back. His childhood was spent in a rural area in Minnesota. They used to live on farmland, farming being the family’s main occupation. Charles Roseland’s father sold some property which provided him the capital to start an import and export business. The gradually gaining pace of business impelled him to travel to other states. He used to have extended stays in other states for business. Finally, he relocated his family to the business capital of the world New York to sow the seeds of the business empire that Charles and his next-generation built. He remembered those old days when he used to live in a wooden house in a small village and was flabbergasted to ruminate how things have changed around him. Then he became the proud owner of a mansion in Manhattan. His family’s vintage car used to be a BULLock cart. He loved to roam around the muddy roads of the village on the bullock cart. Along with the mansion, he was the proud owner of many exquisite cars including BMW. His life had been a rollercoaster ride from bullock cart to BMW. But all that glittered was not gold- he was having sleepless nights in the luxurious bed as trouble brewed in his paradise.
By abhidipta mallik2 years ago in Families
Mystery of a Package
“Senator so and so receives something something explosive packages….” Joana was glancing through the headlines on the news feed on her smartphone with half-open eyes, laying on the bed. Joana was in her early twenties, slightly short, the lustrous eyes outshone her otherwise average features. She was a senior majoring in Finance at Ohio State University. The morning’s alarm has started her body’s ignition. It would take fifteen more minutes to gain the momentum to leave the bed. As Joana was brushing her teeth while rubbing her left eye, an Amber alert vibration mentioned the presence of a terror suspect in the locality. She opened her lips awkwardly to view her teeth. She was as pleased as punch with the whiteness of her teeth. She heard some fading footsteps at the door, opened it, and discovered a package wrapped in brown paper. She extended her hand to pick it up but instantly flinched back. The two pieces of information entrapped in her subconscious mind triggered this involuntary recoil response. She was not expecting any package. She went inside and picked up the phone to check if her mother was expecting anything. The door was left partially agape. Split seconds later, her mother Mrs. William returned from a morning walk with her dog Max. Her rottweiler sniffed the package, barked once, and swerved to the other side digressing from his idiosyncrasy of prying into any never-before-seen object. “What is this packet?” She picked it up, it smelled horrible even from a distance from her nose. Miss Barbara lived next door alone. She was an eavesdropping neighbor and never missed an opportunity to intrude in the Williams family's lives. She was within her boundary wall and said “Good morning Mrs. Willaim. Why do you make the nauseous face? What is that parcel?” Miss Barbara was wearing a canary-colored house dress. She had short hair, the wrinkles on her cheek made her look older than she was. “Do not know. It's pungent,” Mrs. William responded bitterly. “Let me see. I do not smell anything.” She bought close to her nose. “Not even now, but I can hear something ticking.” She placed it near her ear “definitely some analog clock.” A sound she heard after almost ten years. Joana saw and heard this from her room through the partially open door and rushed to the door. “Throw it outside the boundary wall. It has bomb. Just throw it.“ She Panicked. Threw it. Clinched. All in one second. There was no explosion, they all stood stiff with hands on their ears. The eerie silence was broken. “I am calling 911” Joana was agile. After two minutes on the phone “They are sending the bomb squad. Wait. How did the package become green? I remember the package was brown.” Nobody responded. They went inside and within minutes the bomb squad arrived. One officer and one junior officer, both half-dressed as bomb squad specialists, briefly inspected the area. They both looked astute although the junior was oddly expressionless. The package was not there. “Where did it go? ” all three ladies screamed simultaneously. “Check the camera,” the officer was quick with the response. The computer screen showed some youth stealing the package. “You cannot call it stealing. The package was on the road,” said Mrs. William who was genuinely courteous. Using face recognition the state police data analysis department was able to identify the youth and within minutes they had the address of Neil Dantam. The officers and the ladies hurried to that address which was just three blocks away.
By abhidipta mallik2 years ago in Fiction
Shark
Jonathan Roderick was one of the most successful young entrepreneurs of this generation. He was based in California. He was of average build with a prepossessing face and charming but pretentious voice; invariably clean shaved, invariably sharply dressed. Jonathan Roderick had two major phobias galeophobia – fear of sharks and aquaphobia – fear of water. He used to have nightmares before taking flight. But he was not afraid of flying, landing or taking off, or crashing per se. He was so horror-struck thinking of the scenarios where the plane had to land on the Ocean that he was comfortable with a crash on land.
By abhidipta mallik2 years ago in Fiction
Mom is the star of our life and beyond
14th May 2017 "Why isn't this stupid robot working?" Ben Tudor screamed. An unprecedented adrenaline rush made its way through Ben's veins and arteries. Natalia, his teammate, said firmly, "Calm down Ben, Let's debug". Fastidiously they looked for faults in the circuit. They had less than thirty seconds. "The gas detecting sensor is not receiving power. See the red LED light is turned on.", pointed out Natalie as both desperately tried to unearth the cause of malfunction in their robot. "Oh! no, the sub-wire is disconnected", Ben was dejected. They cannot afford such errors at this crucial time. Natalia spontaneously connected the wire and the green LED light near the gas detecting sensor got turned on. Within 10 seconds the robot started to function. After one hour there was this announcement "The winner of this year's robotics competition is Nathalia Josef and Ben Tudor." The winners started screaming and jumping, their hearts thumping. It was late evening when Ben returned home. He took the trophy to the balcony, looked up at the sky. The sky was clear, with about 4 nights left for the full moon, slightly windy which occasionally brought the long hair of Ben on his eyes. "Mom this is for you" He pointed the trophy at the sky -eyes fixed at a particular star, tears rolling.
By abhidipta mallik2 years ago in Fiction
Fate
July 15, 2015, Calcutta (Kolkata), India Sutopa just got back from the nursing home. Her face was overburdened with feelings - crestfallen, etiolated, petrified, qualmish, and stupefied. It was 1 p. m. She thought of informing her husband, who was at work, but she hesitated. Over the last few weeks, she was feeling torpid and looking wan. As advised by many she went to visit the doctor. Dr. Nag was reputed and it took three weeks to get the appointment. Even though the doctor was good at her craft, she directed her to carry out several tests from blood to Colonoscopy. Today her MRI test report was to be delivered and she went to the nursing home to collect it. Sutapa was a devoted homemaker. Even with such weakness, she performed all her duties, obedient to habit. The last few days have been hectic for her because of the medical tests. That could not hinder her dedication though she could not stick to her routine with the kind of precision she has been categorically associated with.
By abhidipta mallik2 years ago in Families
The correct track
Mr. Stanley Anderson and Mrs. Christiana Amber Anderson were seated on a pair of seats facing two other seats in a group of four seats seat on the Amtrak train from Philadelphia to Boston. It was a 6-hour long undemanding journey. Stanley was one of the most soft-spoken people. He adopted this slow pace and low octave speech to counter his childhood stuttering habit. His façon de parler had a direct effect on his personality which in turn affected his phraseology. He looked decent wearing a neatly ironed shirt of light blue shade. His hair was perfectly combed with not a single strand of hair out of place. This has become his consistent look for the last ten years. He believed in simple living and high thinking. Unadorned simplicity attracted him the most. He was extremely tidy. A few people labeled his attitude as an OCD case. He was overly affectionate and caring towards his wife Christiana. He pampered his wife. "Do you want to eat something?" Stanley said in a voice that only his wife could hear. This was the third time he asked her in two hours. His wife replied "No" in a resentful tone. His over-caring nature annoyed her. She found the simple nature of her husband utterly boring. Many times she rebuked her husband for his disposition.
By abhidipta mallik2 years ago in Fiction
Nourish good habits
The party of December 2021 at my house is ingrained in my memory. The party turned out to be a nightmare for me. I hosted a get-together party for my school friends at my house. The party kicked off with a delightful spirit. Meeting old friends is so gratifying, reminiscing those golden memories, reliving the times when we were scoundrels. Soon it became a boisterous gathering. I had made an arrangement for some games like darts, billiards, truth and dare, etc. but people did not seem to be interested. They preferred to drink and talk about old times. Alcohol started kicking in. Music and noise grew louder. I became a little tensed that my neighbors would make a fuss about it, even though I had apologized for the expected disturbance beforehand. I, as a sincere host, drank the least; but I enjoyed the most. I kept myself busy observing others, offering food and drink, and gossiping. I had a lot of catching up to do as I had missed the last party held at James' house. Neil and Portia got flirtatious with each other. James started rambling about his wife's mistrust. Thomas, Steven, and Jennifer started dancing mainly to avoid James. Steven suddenly felt dizzy and dashed to the restroom. I could hear a loud noise even in the midst of the music. He came out wobbly with his hand scrubbing his forehead. A few steps later he fell, passed out, on the floor even before reaching the carpeted area. Thus banging his head hard on the concrete floor. Blood started pouring out. Kelly and Thomas rushed him to the ER. Others also left for the hospital. I stayed back. It was already late and I had office the next morning.
By abhidipta mallik2 years ago in Confessions
Atlantis - the perfect place
I have been an avid reader since my childhood. Reading has been my favorite hobby. Reading illuminates me, prevents cognitive decline, and most importantly provides me the much-needed solace in the ever-increasing stress in my hectic life. But I must confess that used to have a preconceived notion that " old is not gold" when it came to books. This prejudice might have risen from the occupational hazard of being a researcher where we are vigorously advised to be acquainted with the most accurate up-to-date research literature. In the research field, the most recent documents are considered the most reliable because improved and more efficient instruments and methodologies are used for the experiments conducted, and the old documents are in turn looked down upon. For this reason, almost all the novels I've read belong to the 20th and 21st centuries. Six months ago, this misconception of mine got debunked. My family and my cousin's family planned to visit Yellowstone during the weekend and for this reason, I went to his house with my family. On reaching there I got sick, and I had to stay back while the others went to Yellowstone. Feeling bored I browsed through my cousin's bookshelf. It contained about 90 books and I found that I have read eighty-nine of them. Only one unread book was the new Atlantis by Francis Bacon. I was so skeptical to read the "prehistoric" book, but I took the chance. The book changed my thought process. Oh Lord, how wrong I was!
By abhidipta mallik3 years ago in Futurism