Radha Vinayak
Apoptosis
Apoptosis is commonly defined as programmed death cell death. To put it simply (in 9th grade biology textbook words), it occurs when, during cell division, enzymes called caspases escape the grasp of inhibitors in the cell due to internal/external signals, and cause fatal destruction. The cell loses contact with nearby cells, and blisters develop on the nucleus fragments and plasma membrane. The dead cell then gets engulfed by white blood cells, or other neighbors.
Reading about apoptosis in my bio textbook got me thinking, that seems like such an ordinary story. For example, lets say the caspases are like prisoners in the kingdom of the cell, being held captive by some guards. Someone on the outside -or inside- signals the prisoners to attack during a vulnerable time for the kingdom. They break free from the guards, and then strike. The kingdom falls.
I'm sure you have read a story like that at some point. I sure have.
Isn't it so interesting how general, basic, timeless stories are modeled after the way our world works biologically? Something so simple as captives/prisoners escaping from a prison is similar to the way certain destructive enzymes escape inhibitors in the cell. So much of the world humanity has developed is unintentionally comparable to biological functions. It makes me wonder, is that a coincidence?
Gulab Jamun
She waited, another train passed.
And another.
And another.
Her stomach grumbled violently.
Another train passed.
It had been 7.5 hours since her dad had gone to find water, food, and the sweets that she had asked for. She was craving a gulab
jamun or two.
She drifted in and out of consciousness, waking only when a train passed by. She would wake, her stomach would growl, she would crane her neck to look left and right, and would fitfully retreat to sleep.
Another train passed.
It had been 24 hours.
She awoke once again, and as she was looking for her father, she noticed a group of cops staring at her and whispering.
Keeping her eyes glued on them, she quietly stood from the bench, legs trembling, and inched her way towards the cops.
As she neared the group, the tallest officer with a long mustache dropped his burnt cigarette to the ground and smashed it angrily with the heel of his boot.
This scared the little girl.
Legs still trembling, and with a voice so small and afraid, she asked the cop, "It has been very long since my dad left to get food, and
I don't know where he is, could you please help me find him?"
The tall cop stared at her for a full twenty seconds before spitting out, "Tell me your name."
Too frightened to speak, she winced, and lifted her left arm, where her name was tattooed. Her father had gotten it tattooed on her a few days ago, but her arm was still sore.
Legs still trembling, she whispered, "My name..."
Glaring at her, he wrote her name down on an index card. Still eyeing the girl, he whispered to another cop and handed him the index card. The second cop took out his cell phone and began yelling through it in Punjabi.
Another train passed.
It had been two full days since she wanted Gulab Jamun. Now all she wanted was to catch sight of her father.
Hope, heart, and legs trembling, she felt something that she hated as soon as she felt it.
She knew how it felt to be lost, to not know what she was doing.
And in her gut, she knew that the feeling would never go away.
Another train passed.
The Punjabi-speaking cop looked at the girl. "Come to the police station with me." he grunted.
"Why?" the girl asked timidly, legs trembling.
"So we can maybe find out who and where your father is," he pessimistically stated. "Chalo. Lets go, now."
"Okay," she whispered, and legs trembling, she followed him out of the train station.
All she was thinking, all she could think, with her heart and legs trembling, was
"Why did I ask for that Gulab Jamun?"
Excerpt from "Eighteen Changes"
"If I'm not out of this maze by dawn, I'll never leave it again." She thought. Her thoughts echoed between the closed walls of the millionth dead end. She turned around, ready to get out of this cubical box. As she rounded the corner, a feeling of dread tugged at her rapidly beating heart. Something was nearby. Her clever hazel eyes darted from right to left, looking for the intruder. But all she saw was air.
Suddenly, the water from a puddle nearby shot up, and consumed her in one swift wave. She swam underneath the surface. A tide came, and pushed her deeper and deeper into the water. Soon the water turned from a hearty blue, to a pale purple, to a dark, deafening black. She braced herself, expecting to pass out, yet when she touched her feet, she found that they were dry. She felt hard earth beneath her. A little dot of white light appeared in front of her. She cried out in joy, for she had not seen the light of day in eighteen years! She started running towards it. It started getting bigger and bigger, until it became the exit of an era, of her troubles and hardships.
As she burst through, her skin became a flourishing, healthy tan. Her hair once again became a bright purple, and flowed out behind her in lengthy waves. Her eyes faded into a bright green.
What she didn't know was that the world could change so much, in just a mere eighteen years.
Excerpt from "On the Crime Scene"
I duck under the passenger seat of Officer Kent's police car. We just got back from Indonesia, and suddenly, we go to the airport to fly to England? A detective never rests. But interns should! I guess that's what it means to be a detective. I still should have interned for a local police department. Very few times I ask myself; Why did I send an application to intern for an international police department? Oh well, at least I like my job.
A few hours later, we are finally on the plane. Officer Kent is sleeping, and he has the case file open on his coffee table. I walk across the plane to where my carry on bag rests, and take out my own file. Then I go sit down at my coffee table. The luxury of flying in a private jet! I slowly open the file, expecting to see some scruffy crime scene, with dirt all over, but to my surprise, I see Winterlock Manor! The most prestigious family in all of London! The crime is a jewelry heist, mostly all of the jewelry that Mrs. Winterlock wore at her wedding! Wow. Considering all of the security that Winterlock Manor has, I'm surprised that someone got in to the Manor without a formal invitation, and got out with all of the jewelry.
Maybe it was a staff member. Or maybe, it was someone the Winterlocks' knew.