reevaraikar

[reevaraikar]

VTOL DRONE FUTURE

You know, ever since I was a kid, I’ve had a thing for art. Not the kind of art that hangs in sterile galleries, but the kind that moves you. The kind that’s alive. I was always the weird one—sketching on napkins, scribbling on walls, finding beauty in the chaos of life. It wasn’t enough to just look at art—I wanted to feel it. So when the government came knocking, asking me to create something that would revolutionize how people experience art, I was in. They said I had the vision, and I—well, I had the tools.

So, I built the System. These VTOL drones that could hover, float, and project mesmerizing light shows, holograms, sculptures—all of it. They'd weave through the city, creating living art installations in the air. People were enchanted. Gatherings became transformative experiences. The drones weren’t just machines—they were artists, painting in the sky. And the people? They didn’t just watch. They engaged. They felt something real. It was magical.

But the drones were doing more than just delivering beauty. They were listening. Watching. Hovering above, gathering every fleeting thought, every half-baked desire that passed through a person’s mind. You could feel it, couldn’t you? The way the drones made you think differently, see things you didn’t know you craved. You thought it was magic—art that connected on a deeper level. But the truth? The drones were feeding off you. They scanned your mind. Filtered your thoughts. Tailored what they showed you to your deepest, darkest desires.

But here’s the thing nobody knew: what was projected wasn’t even real. I wasn’t giving the government the data they thought they were getting. Oh, they thought they were getting a comprehensive profile of every citizen’s psyche, every wish, every fear. But what they didn’t know was that I was filtering it. I was keeping the good stuff for myself. The raw, uncut data—the things people never say out loud. It wasn’t going to some government database. It was going straight to the black market. That’s where the real money is.

You see, it wasn’t about art. It was never about art. It was about control. I control the art, I control the people. And the government? They’re puppets too—thinking they’re in charge, believing they have access to all the information. But I’m the one pulling the strings. They’re getting filtered, polished data. What they don’t know is that what they’re getting is nothing but a show, a beautifully curated lie. Meanwhile, I’m sitting on the truth—every hidden desire, every twisted thought, every secret. And the best part? No one’s ever going to know. They’ll keep believing in their art, their magic, their control. While I make a fortune off their ignorance.

This whole thing? It’s a masterpiece.

[reevaraikar]

human form in 100 years

Eighty years from now, humans might not eat food in traditional ways. Instead, we could "breathe" nutrition through specialized air infused with nano-nutrients tailored to individual needs. Charging stations, resembling sleek pods, would replace kitchens. People could step into these stations to inhale meals, a process both efficient and eco-friendly. These stations might analyze our body's requirements in real-time, delivering precise energy and vitamins without waste. This evolution could address food scarcity, eliminate packaging waste, and redefine dining into a moment of health optimization rather than indulgence. Social gatherings might involve sharing unique "flavor codes" for communal nutritional experiences.

water consumption might evolve to drinking directly from bioengineered trees. These advanced trees could extract and purify water from the air, storing it in naturally filtered reservoirs within their trunks. Equipped with taps or smart dispensers, they’d provide clean, mineral-rich water on demand. Communities might plant these trees as sustainable hydration hubs, merging nature with technology to combat water scarcity and ensure access for all in an eco-friendly way.

humanity might reside in a vast, linear megastructure that stretches across the globe, designed to ensure survival in a world where external regions have become uninhabitable. This continuous line would house self-sufficient communities, with integrated systems for energy, food, and water. Advanced transportation would allow seamless movement, while vertical farming and renewable energy systems maintain sustainability. Inside, nature and technology coexist in harmony, creating a utopian environment. Beyond its borders lies a dystopian wasteland, making the Line a sanctuary of progress and unity in an otherwise desolate world.

education might involve immersive learning through advanced vestibules—pods designed to directly interface with the brain. Upon entering, these systems would use neurotechnology to transfer knowledge directly into the mind, bypassing traditional teaching methods. Lessons would be experienced as vivid, interactive simulations, ensuring deep comprehension and permanent retention. Neural enhancements would activate unused brain areas, mandating at least 10% utilization for problem-solving, creativity, and innovation. This method would democratize learning, making expertise in any subject accessible to all, while fostering a society where intellectual potential is maximized. Education would no longer be a process but an instant transformation.

Healthcare in the future could revolve around advanced gene editing and bioengineering. Before birth, genetic blueprints would be optimized using technologies like CRISPR to eliminate hereditary diseases and enhance resilience against illnesses. Personalized medicine would tailor treatments to an individual's DNA, ensuring precise and effective care. Nanobots might patrol the body, repairing damage, eliminating infections, and even reversing aging at the cellular level. Preventative care would dominate, with wearable devices continuously monitoring health and delivering real-time interventions. Mental health would also advance, with neural mapping and stimulation techniques addressing imbalances. Healthcare would shift from treatment to lifelong optimization and well-being.

Outside the Line lies a barren wasteland, inhabited solely by criminal men cast out by society. These outcasts, abandoned to survive amidst scarcity and disease, endure constant hardship. Food and water are scarce, traded at exorbitant prices, while illness spreads unchecked. Violence and lawlessness prevail, and survival is a daily struggle. Meanwhile, inside the Line, society thrives in luxury, with clean air, abundant resources, and opportunities. The divide is stark: the privileged live untouched by crime, while those outside face relentless suffering. Yet, amidst the desolation, whispers of rebellion stir, hoping for justice to bridge the divide.

society has shifted dramatically. Women, once oppressed, have overthrown the patriarchal systems that once ruled, establishing a world where they are the dominant force. The old power structures have crumbled, and the roles once defined by gender have been reimagined. Women now lead governments, corporations, and communities, with their voices driving policy, culture, and innovation. Men, once the sole bearers of power, now occupy subordinate roles, often relegated to the margins of society, struggling to adapt. The world has transformed, but in this reversal, the questions of equality and fairness remain—has true justice been achieved, or merely replaced by another form of dominance?

women hold the majority of high-paying, influential positions across industries. The wage gap has not just closed but reversed, with women earning more than men on average. Female-dominated sectors like tech, politics, and business thrive under their leadership, and women receive higher pay for the same work, reflecting their newfound power and influence. Men, in turn, work in lower-paying roles or are more focused on domestic responsibilities, while women continue to break barriers in all fields. This shift has reshaped social norms, sparking conversations on what true equality means when the balance of power tilts in favor of one gender.

energy and electricity are harvested directly from human bodies. Each night, while people sleep, a sophisticated system collects the energy generated by their resting bodies—heat, movement, and bioelectricity—and stores it in a vast network of energy reservoirs. This harvested energy is then transmitted to homes, powering everything from lights to appliances throughout the day. People wake up refreshed, unaware of the vital role their bodies played in sustaining the system. This system eliminates the need for traditional power plants, creating a sustainable, self-replenishing energy cycle where human vitality fuels the very infrastructure that supports them.

peace and justice are deeply integrated into governance, driven by AI and restorative practices. Conflicts are resolved through impartial, AI-driven mediation, ensuring fairness by understanding emotional and power dynamics. Justice focuses on rehabilitation rather than punishment, addressing root causes and reintegrating wrongdoers through community-driven programs. Global peace is maintained by diplomacy and transparency, with decisions made by a global council of humans and AI. Education fosters emotional intelligence and ethical reasoning, promoting empathy and civil discourse. This creates a society where justice is restorative, and peace is an ongoing, collective pursuit of harmony and shared prosperity.

transportation is seamlessly integrated into the urban landscape through an advanced, multi-layered network. Trains no longer follow traditional tracks but instead run on elevated pathways, winding through and between buildings like veins through a city, allowing for quick, efficient travel across urban centers. These trains glide silently above, with magnetic levitation or similar advanced tech ensuring smooth, high-speed transit. Cars, meanwhile, have adapted to underground tunnels, creating vast subterranean networks that free up surface space for parks, walkways, and green areas. The result is a city that functions like a well-oiled machine, with no traffic congestion and efficient movement for everyone.

political power has shifted dramatically, with women holding the majority of leadership positions. Parliaments, congresses, and councils are restructured to ensure gender balance, with women occupying more seats and exerting greater influence. Affirmative policies and quotas have established a political landscape where women lead with a focus on equality, social welfare, and global cooperation. Men no longer dominate the decision-making process; instead, leadership is shared, with diverse voices shaping policies that reflect the needs of all citizens. This shift creates a more inclusive, empathetic political environment, fostering progress in areas like healthcare, education, and environmental sustainability.

air pollution is rampant, a toxic cloud that envelops the land, leaving the inhabitants to struggle with respiratory illnesses, weakened immune systems, and a constant sense of suffocation. Factories, overpopulation, and environmental degradation have created a harsh, unbreathable atmosphere. In stark contrast, within the Line, the air is pristine, purified by advanced filtration systems, creating an oasis of clean, breathable atmosphere. The people inside enjoy clear skies, crisp air, and healthier lives, while those outside endure the devastating effects of pollution. This sharp divide exacerbates the inequities, highlighting a world where environmental justice is a luxury for the privileged few.

noise pollution is a thing of the past. People no longer speak out loud; instead, they communicate through a seamless, silent connection embedded in their minds. This system allows individuals to understand one another simply by looking at them, with thoughts and emotions transmitted directly. Conversations are instant and private, free from the clamor of voices. If someone wishes to disconnect, they can mute or block another person, much like on a call, maintaining control over their interactions. The world is quieter, yet communication is more profound, allowing for deeper understanding without the need for spoken words.

non-human life thrives in harmony with humanity, supported by advanced biotechnology and sustainable ecosystems. Animals live freely, no longer exploited, with genetically modified species adapted to environmental changes, benefiting agriculture, medicine, and companionship. Plants, engineered to purify air, store carbon, and produce food, contribute to a balanced ecosystem. Humans work symbiotically with non-human life, fostering ecological preservation. Genetic engineering blurs the line between natural and synthetic life, creating resilient organisms that support global sustainability. The future celebrates coexistence, where non-human life is vital to the planet’s health, contributing to the well-being of all species.

chemical pollution ravages the environment, poisoning the land, water, and air. Industrial waste, unchecked chemicals, and toxic runoff seep into the soil, making it difficult for plants and animals to thrive. The once-vibrant ecosystems have become contaminated wastelands, where vegetation struggles to grow and wildlife suffers from mutations and diseases. Despite the persistence of life, the harsh chemicals have altered the natural balance, creating a hostile environment. In contrast, within the Line, strict environmental controls ensure a pristine, pollutant-free ecosystem, with clean, sustainable resources for those living inside, further deepening the divide between the two worlds.

humanity has transformed water bodies on an unprecedented scale. Advanced desalination technologies and large-scale water reclamation projects have made oceans, glaciers, and even atmospheric moisture viable sources. Rivers and lakes are engineered to optimize storage and distribution, while nanotechnology cleanses pollutants at the molecular level. With these innovations, 45% of Earth's water has become usable, compared to the mere 3% of the past. This monumental shift ensures abundant water for agriculture, industry, and consumption, but at the cost of natural ecosystems, which struggle to adapt to these modifications. Humanity thrives, yet the balance with nature remains fragile.

waste management has been revolutionized with the discovery of a distant, uninhabitable planet designated as a waste repository. Advanced systems collect, process, and launch all forms of garbage into space, transporting it to this planet without harming Earth’s environment. Landfills and pollution are things of the past, freeing cities from the burden of waste. Inside the Line, no trash is visible, as every bit of waste is seamlessly whisked away for space disposal. While this innovation has eliminated local pollution, it raises ethical concerns about offloading humanity's problems onto another celestial body, echoing questions of universal responsibility.

Within the Line, land use is a masterpiece of design, blending functionality with artistic expression. Streets are vibrant canvases, adorned with murals, sculptures, and installations created by the residents themselves. Public spaces are thoughtfully curated, offering platforms for artists to showcase their work, from interactive light displays to pop-up galleries. Parks and plazas double as cultural hubs, featuring dynamic art that evolves with community participation. This integration of creativity discourages vandalism, as individuals feel a sense of ownership and pride in their shared spaces. The Line becomes a living gallery, where every corner tells a story, celebrating individuality and unity.

ocean pollution has been eradicated through groundbreaking advancements in space technology. Humanity has discovered a distant, uninhabitable planet designated solely for waste disposal. Sophisticated systems collect, compress, and launch garbage into space, ensuring it reaches this designated planet without environmental harm. Oceans, once choked by plastic and toxins, have been restored to their pristine state, allowing marine ecosystems to flourish. Advanced monitoring systems ensure that no waste enters the seas, preserving biodiversity. While this solution spares Earth’s waters, ethical debates linger about offloading humanity’s waste onto another celestial body, raising questions about responsibility beyond our planet.

climate is no longer at nature’s whim but engineered with precision by advanced government systems. Using weather-modification technologies, seasons are carefully calibrated to ensure ideal living conditions year-round. Summers are warm but never scorching, winters bring picturesque snow without disruptive storms, and rains are scheduled to replenish greenery without causing floods. This controlled environment boosts agriculture, leisure, and overall comfort, creating a utopian balance. However, outside the Line, where such technologies are absent, climate change wreaks havoc—unpredictable storms, scorching heat, and droughts devastate the land. The divide highlights the stark inequities in humanity's relationship with nature.

urban agriculture and greenification are integral to daily life. Vertical gardens cover buildings, rooftop farms supply fresh produce, and every household is required to nurture pet plants. These plants are more than decor—they are bioengineered to purify air, recycle water, and even produce small amounts of food. Citizens are mandated to care for their plants, with regular checks by officials to ensure compliance. Public spaces are lush with greenery, blending nature with urban living. This symbiosis fosters environmental awareness, making greenery a shared responsibility and transforming the Line into a thriving, self-sustaining eco-community.

gender and sexuality are celebrated as fluid, personal, and open topics. People are free to express their identities and choose their paths without fear of judgment or discrimination. Gender norms are obsolete, and traditional roles have been replaced by individual choice and mutual respect. Education systems teach inclusivity from an early age, fostering understanding and empathy. Laws and policies protect all expressions of identity, ensuring access to equal opportunities, healthcare, and representation. Communities actively support one another, creating a culture of acceptance where authenticity is valued, and diversity is seen as the foundation of a harmonious society.

diversity and inclusion are at the heart of society. People of all backgrounds, cultures, abilities, and identities are celebrated for their unique contributions. Communities are designed to be accessible and welcoming, ensuring that everyone feels valued and seen. Education, media, and public spaces promote understanding and representation, fostering a culture of empathy and unity. Prejudice and discrimination are actively dismantled through policies and social initiatives, creating an environment where differences are embraced as strengths. In this world, every individual is not only welcomed but deeply loved, forming a society built on compassion, equality, and shared humanity.

accessibility is a cornerstone of society. All public and private spaces are designed with inclusive systems, ensuring everyone—regardless of physical ability—can navigate, participate, and thrive. Advanced technologies like adaptive robotics, intuitive interfaces, and AI-driven assistance make every area welcoming and functional for all. However, a few restricted zones exist solely to ensure safety, such as hazardous industrial areas or research facilities with potential risks. These exceptions are transparently communicated and equipped with remote access options for those who need them. This balance of inclusion and safety creates a world where accessibility is prioritized without compromise.

sustainability is not just a choice but a mandate. Citizens are required to follow strict guidelines to minimize waste in all aspects of life. Clothing is no longer bought impulsively; people are encouraged to buy durable, recycled, or upcycled garments, with purchases monitored through digital tracking systems to ensure minimal environmental impact. Shopping habits are regulated, with consumption patterns carefully analyzed to avoid excess. Food waste is also heavily controlled, with technologies in place to track and redirect unused resources. Public and private sectors collaborate to maintain a circular economy, where everything is repurposed, reused, and recycled, ensuring that sustainability is a part of every action. This rigorous approach fosters a society where eco-consciousness is embedded in daily life, ensuring a lasting positive impact on the planet.

[reevaraikar]

Amby

(#draft2)

Today marks my 100th birthday, and somehow, I’m still walking—still strong, still here. People marvel at my ability to move like this at my age. But they don’t know the truth. Every step I take is because of her. Amby—my stubborn, beautiful Amby. She gave me everything. Without her, I wouldn’t be here today.

We met in 2004, when I was just 21. Amby wasn’t like other girls—she was an old soul. While others rushed through life, eager to keep up with trends, Amby was different. She preferred the slow road, savoring moments most people overlooked. She never cared for shortcuts or following the crowd. I admired that about her. With Amby, every experience felt meaningful.

She was always with me. When I went to college, she was by my side, full of energy, eager to explore life with me. We’d skip lectures just to chase the horizon, taking the long way to nowhere, with no plan in mind. Life felt endless with her. She made every day feel like an adventure, as if we could outlast time itself.

But time has a way of catching up with everyone. By 2024, she began to slow. Some days, she struggled to keep up, her energy faltering. It hurt to see her that way. I took her to the best specialists, hoping to restore her to her old self. After every refresh cycle, she’d come back to me, as vibrant as ever, but the glow never lasted long. I knew, deep down, that I was growing older—but she was aging even faster.

2050 arrived, and the world had changed beyond recognition. Cities gleamed with holographic displays, and vehicles no longer needed drivers. Magnetic highways hummed through the skies, guiding sleek, self-driving machines effortlessly. People didn’t think about the journey anymore—everything just moved faster, quieter, more precise.

But Amby and I didn’t fit in that future. We clung to the old ways—quiet roads, open spaces, and the comfort of familiar routines. It was just us, like it had always been.

That night, we went for one more drive. I don’t think either of us said it aloud, but we knew this might be our last ride. The air was thick with nostalgia, and Amby sat quietly beside me, her presence as steady as ever. I could feel her tiredness, but she was still with me—just as she’d always been.

We slipped out of the city and into the countryside, the road stretching before us like a promise. For a while, it felt like the old days—just us and the open road.

Then the rain hit.

It came suddenly, hammering down in sheets, blurring everything around us. Fog rolled in, thick and disorienting, swallowing the road ahead. I felt Amby’s silent concern beside me, but I pressed on. I thought if we could just get through the storm, we’d be fine—just like we always were.

Then came the lights—massive, blinding. A cargo hauler barreling out of the mist, too fast to avoid.

The world shattered. Metal twisted, glass exploded, and everything went dark.

I woke to the cold glow of a hospital room. Machines buzzed softly, monitoring my every breath. My body felt strange, heavy, and disconnected. But all I could think about was her.

“Where’s Amby?” I whispered, my throat dry and cracked.

The room fell silent. My mother sat beside me, her eyes brimming with grief. I asked again, my voice more desperate this time. “Where is she?”

Finally, my mother spoke, her voice trembling. “She saved your life… but she didn’t make it.”

I tried to sit up, to get out of bed, but something was wrong. My body didn’t respond the way it should. That’s when I looked down—and saw it.

Everything below my left knee was gone, replaced by sleek, metallic panels. The limb shimmered under the hospital lights, smooth and seamless, humming quietly with a subtle pulse.

“They used her,” my mother whispered. “Amby was fused into your leg during the crash. The doctors said removing her parts would have killed you, so they didn’t. They used what they had—her metal, her systems—and rebuilt your leg.”

Her voice wavered as she explained further. “They grafted bio-alloy into your muscles and nerves—nanofibers that integrated her metal directly into your body. It wasn’t just a prosthetic. It was her.”

The nanofibers woven into my leg were incredible—self-healing threads that bonded Amby’s metal with my living tissue. The alloy didn’t rust or decay; it stayed young, constantly renewing itself. Every time the fibers detected wear or damage, they repaired it within seconds, keeping the limb as strong and responsive as the day it was built.

Her frame became the core structure of the new limb. Pieces of her chassis provided reinforcement, making the leg nearly indestructible. Her internal wiring formed the nerve network—sensitive sensors that transmitted signals with the precision of real muscles. The alloy was warm to the touch, alive in its own way, always adapting, always in sync with me.

And the best part? Every step I took felt like her. The subtle hum that resonated from the limb was unmistakable—*it was Amby*. Even now, all these years later, I can feel her with me. Her essence, her presence, moving with me, guiding me, just as she always had.

Amby didn’t just save my life. She became part of me, part of every movement, every step. Even a century later, she’s still here, humming beneath my skin, keeping me upright, keeping me going.

She wasn’t just a car. She was my best friend, my companion, my everything. And now, she’s part of me—forever.

Together, we keep moving, through roads that no longer need maps and paths only we can see.

[reevaraikar]

The Silent War

In 2103, Jo sat curled up in the corner of an ancient temple, its pillars cracked from centuries of rain and war. The marble beneath him was cold, yet it was the only familiar thing left in his life. He clutched a small pendant in his hand, a keepsake from his mother, feeling the weight of both the past and the chaos unraveling outside. The world wasn’t always like this—it had once known peace, a world where people believed they had finally conquered the barriers that divided them.

The shift began decades earlier, around 2040, when a global catastrophe swept across the planet—something akin to the Chernobyl disaster, but far worse. Strange mutations followed, and people began to be born with extraordinary powers. These abilities ranged from the subtle control of emotions by Empaths to the grand feats of Telekinetics who could build cities with a flick of their hands. Newborns with heightened perception or creative genius emerged among the Neurodivergents, while others exhibited uncanny survival instincts, labeling them as Feral.

At first, this strange phenomenon threatened to divide humanity even further. But by 2070, the world made a radical choice: they decided to abandon their old ways of grouping themselves by religions, nations, and heritages. Humanity would now live as factions—defined by what they were born capable of, not by where they came from.

Heritage sites, places once linked to gods, empires, and ancestral pride, were re-assigned to the different factions, symbolic of a new, united world. The Taj Mahal became a sanctuary for the Empaths, who used it to bring peace and healing. The Pyramids were given to the Neurodivergents, now a hub of technological breakthroughs and scientific discovery.

For decades, the factions thrived. Each group worked in harmony with the others, believing they had built a society where everyone had a place. Empaths, in particular, were seen as the glue holding this new world together, using their abilities to mediate conflicts and foster cooperation. For the first time in history, war seemed like a relic of the past.

But not everyone fit into these new factions. Many children were born without any extraordinary powers—Ordinary, they called them. The world promised equality for all, but in truth, the Ordinary found themselves ostracized, treated as a reminder of the old world that no longer had a place in the future. They were pushed to the margins of society, their voices silenced, their existence ignored.

And that was how resentment began to simmer.

By 2090, the peace shattered. The Ordinary—tired of being shunned, of being told they were obsolete, rose in rebellion. They stormed the heritage sites, claiming that these sacred places belonged to them by right. Their fury was fueled not just by injustice, but by a profound emptiness. They had no powers, no factions to call their own, and no role in the new world. All they wanted was something to hold on to—something that proved they mattered.

The war that erupted was devastating. Entire cities were burned as the Ordinary fought to reclaim the heritage sites, and the once-unified factions turned on one another. The Empaths, despite their abilities to mediate, found themselves overwhelmed by the hatred that surged through the battlefield. Their once-sacred sanctuaries were defiled, their peaceful halls stained with blood.

It was in this chaos that Jo found himself.

***

Jo was only ten years old, born into the Heritage Faction. His parents had been caretakers of one of the old temples, a sacred space once dedicated to Lord Shiva. When the war began, they stayed behind, hoping to protect what they believed was their rightful home. Jo had watched in horror as Ordinary soldiers stormed the temple one night. His parents tried to negotiate with them, but words weren’t enough to stop the tide of rage.

“Run, Jo,” his mother had whispered as she pressed the pendant into his hand. “Stay small. Stay safe.”

Jo fled, slipping through the cracks of the crumbling temple walls. For weeks, he survived alone, hiding among the ruins while the war raged outside. He scavenged food from abandoned kitchens and drank from puddles collected in stone carvings. Every night, he listened to the sounds of gunfire and screams, wondering if the fighting would ever stop.

One evening, as Jo wandered the empty halls of the temple, he found himself at the entrance, gazing at the battle beyond. He watched as Ordinary soldiers swarmed another shrine, tearing down banners and smashing statues. At first, all Jo felt was anger. But then he saw something that made him pause.

A soldier knelt before the remains of a shattered idol, clutching a piece of it to his chest. Another stood motionless, staring at the ruins as if searching for something lost. Jo saw the tears in their eyes, the way their hands trembled, not with rage, but with sorrow.

In that moment, Jo realized something that changed everything. These soldiers weren’t just fighting for control, they were fighting for meaning. Without powers, without a place in the new world, the Ordinary had nothing. The heritage sites were the last remnants of a time when they mattered, and reclaiming them was their only way to feel whole again.

Jo sat down on the temple steps, the weight of his realization pressing down on him. The people he had feared, the ones he had hated, weren’t monsters. They were just human—like him, lost and desperate for something to believe in.

He looked down at the pendant in his hand, the symbol of his heritage, and knew he had a choice. He could cling to the past, holding onto the old divisions, or he could try to build something new—a world where everyone belonged, where no one was left behind.

Jo stood, determination hardening in his chest. The war wouldn’t end today, and he knew there would be more suffering to come. But perhaps, if people like him began to see the humanity in others, there was hope for a different future.

He took a deep breath and stepped forward, toward the battlefield, not as an enemy, but as a bridge.

[reevaraikar]

Amby, My Beautiful Amby

Today marks my 100th birthday, and I can still move, still walk, still live. It’s a miracle, really. I should’ve been gone a long time ago, but I’m not. And it’s all because of her, my Amby. My beautiful, brave Amby. Everything I am, everything I’ve ever done since that night, I owe to her.

She was the love of my life. I met her when I turned 21, back in 1997. From the moment I saw her, I knew. She became my constant companion, the one I ran to when the world felt too heavy. We shared everything, endless conversations, quiet drives with nothing but the sound of wind, and nights spent chasing the stars without a care. I thought she’d be with me forever.

It was the summer of 2029 when it all changed. Just another adventure, like so many before. No destination, no plan, just the road beneath us and music filling the air. That night, I had this sudden, reckless urge to push further, to see how fast we could go, how far we could escape from everything. She laughed, God, I remember that laugh, and we flew down the highway, our hearts racing with every mile.

Then the rain came. Out of nowhere, as if the sky cracked open above us. The road vanished beneath a thick fog, and I couldn’t see a thing. I should’ve slowed down. I should’ve pulled over. But I didn’t. I kept going, hoping to find somewhere to stop, somewhere safe for both of us.

And that’s when it happened. Headlights—bright, blinding, and too close. A truck barreled out of the mist, and everything shattered in an instant.

I don’t remember much after that—just darkness, sirens, and the distant hum of hospital lights. When I woke, all I could think about was her. I didn’t care where I was or what had happened to me. I just needed to know if she was okay.

"Where’s Amby?" I whispered, my voice weak and cracked.

The room went silent. My mother sat beside me, holding back tears, and finally, she spoke. "She saved your life… but she didn’t make it."

I felt something inside me collapse, a weight too heavy to bear. I tried to move, to get out of bed and find her, but that’s when I noticed..my left leg, or what was left of it.

Everything below the knee was gone. Instead, there was something strange—cold, rigid. Pieces of metal, glinting faintly under the hospital lights. I stared in disbelief, unable to understand what I was seeing.

My mother explained through sobs. "When they found you both, you were pinned—crushed. Your leg was torn apart, but there were shards of metal lodged into it, holding it together. If the doctors had removed them, you would’ve bled to death on the spot. So they did what they had to,they worked around the metal, amputated what was beyond saving, and used what remained… to rebuild your leg."

I couldn’t speak. Couldn’t breathe.

"It’s her," my mother whispered. "The metal, it’s her. They made your leg from what was left of her."

That’s when the truth hit me like a punch to the chest. Amby wasn’t just a girl, wasn’t just the love of my life. She was my first love in another way—the *first car* I ever bought with my own hard-earned money. My beautiful Hindustan Ambassador. She saved me, even in her final moments, becoming a part of me forever.

Every step I take, every move I make, she’s with me. Amby didn’t just save my life, she *became* a part of me. And though she’s gone, she still carries me forward, even a hundred years later.