THE RAINBOW PROJECT : A Real Time Travel project by TESLA & EINSTEIN

Ramesh was not the type of person to do things quietly. In the bustling office of Sharma & Co., he was known for his loud, over-the-top personality and his endless stories about his “talents.” Whether it was his self-proclaimed skills in cricket, singing, or cooking, Ramesh never missed an opportunity to boast. Unfortunately for his colleagues, the reality was always far from his bragging.

The latest obsession on Ramesh’s list was baking. A few months ago, he had watched a cooking show and decided that he could easily bake like the professionals on TV. However, his past baking attempts had been nothing short of disasters—rock-hard cookies, burnt muffins, and a lemon tart that tasted more like soap than dessert. But Ramesh, being Ramesh, remained unfazed. Confidence was his strongest suit, and failure was just a step toward his “next big success.”

The office buzzed with a mix of fear and excitement when it was announced that Mr. Verma, their strict and intimidating boss, was having a birthday the next day. Mr. Verma ran the office like a ship captain steering through a storm. His no-nonsense attitude had earned him respect and fear in equal measure. Few dared to cross him, and even fewer dared to try to impress him.

Ramesh, however, saw this as the perfect opportunity. What better way to win a promotion than by impressing Mr. Verma with a homemade cake? he thought. The more he imagined Mr. Verma’s face lighting up at the sight of his cake, the more confident he became. In Ramesh’s mind, this was his golden ticket to becoming Mr. Verma’s favorite employee—and, hopefully, getting a raise.

So, that evening, after finishing his work at the office, Ramesh marched straight home, determined to bake the cake of a lifetime.

 

His tiny kitchen looked like a war zone as he pulled out ingredients, bowls, and measuring cups. Flour puffed into the air like smoke, coating everything in a thin white layer. Ramesh, armed with nothing more than overconfidence, glanced at a crumpled recipe he had scribbled down from a YouTube video. He gave it a quick look but decided to rely mostly on his “instincts.” After all, who needed exact measurements? He was an artist, and baking was about creativity, not rules.

The chaos began quickly.

First, he mistakenly grabbed salt instead of sugar. Without a second thought, he dumped a large spoonful of it into the mixing bowl. He cracked eggs into the bowl, not realizing that one of the eggshells had fallen in too. His hands fumbled as he tried to pull the shell out, but in the process, he knocked the bowl off the counter, spilling the contents onto the floor.

“Argh!” Ramesh groaned, picking up the sticky mess with his hands and tossing it into the sink.

Still, he pressed on. Nothing could stop him now—not broken eggs, not spilled flour, and certainly not a little bit of salt. After cleaning up (or, rather, half-heartedly wiping things down), he started again. This time, he mixed the batter with more enthusiasm than skill, accidentally dropping the whisk into the bowl while the mixer was still running. The sound of the metal scraping against the machine was deafening.

But Ramesh refused to be discouraged. “This is going to be the best cake anyone’s ever tasted!” he muttered to himself.

After much fumbling, he finally managed to pour the batter into a cake tin and shove it into the oven. He set the timer and let out a deep breath. Now, all he had to do was wait.

However, things didn’t get better from there. While the cake was baking, Ramesh noticed that the top had collapsed inward. Panic set in, and in a stroke of sheer desperation, he thought, Maybe I can fix this. His bright idea? To somehow "fluff up" the cake by putting it into the washing machine.

He carefully placed the cake inside, switched the machine to a light spin cycle, and stood back with a hopeful grin. But just minutes later, disaster struck. The cake turned into a squished, soggy mess. The washing machine started smoking. Panicked, Ramesh rushed to switch it off, accidentally knocking over a bottle of oil in the process. Oil spilled across the stove, and before he knew it, flames erupted.

“Fire!” Ramesh screamed, grabbing a dishcloth and waving it around, which, of course, only made things worse.

The smoke alarm in his building went off, and soon the entire neighborhood was on high alert. Neighbors gathered outside as firemen arrived to put out the small blaze in Ramesh’s kitchen. Humiliated but determined, he eventually managed to salvage what was left of the cake.

Somehow, by what could only be described as a miracle, the cake still looked somewhat presentable—though anyone with decent baking experience would have tossed it in the trash. Ramesh, however, admired his creation with pride.

Exhausted but satisfied, Ramesh went to bed that night dreaming of how Mr. Verma would praise him for the delicious cake. Little did he know that his night of kitchen blunders would be the least of his worries.

 

The next day at the office, Ramesh arrived early, carrying the cake like it was a treasure. It was covered in sloppy frosting that he had barely managed to spread evenly, and the smell was… unusual. But to Ramesh, it was perfect. He placed the cake on the center table in the office break room, ready for the birthday party.

As more of his colleagues arrived, they eyed the cake suspiciously. Everyone knew about Ramesh’s “cooking skills,” and most were prepared for disaster. Still, no one said anything, too polite (or too afraid of Mr. Verma) to comment.

By noon, the office was buzzing with excitement. Mr. Verma, his usual stern self, stood in the middle of the room as everyone gathered around. His expression barely changed as he stared at the cake Ramesh had made. Ramesh stood nearby, smiling proudly, eager for his boss’s reaction.

Just as Mr. Verma picked up the knife to cut the cake, Ramesh felt a tap on his shoulder. He turned around, startled to see one of his colleagues slip a small note into his pocket. Ramesh, confused, pulled it out and unfolded the paper.

The message read:
“Don’t let him eat the cake. Someone’s trying to kill him.”

Ramesh stared at the note, dumbfounded. His first thought was that it had to be a prank. Maybe one of his co-workers was pulling his leg, knowing full well how bad he was at baking. But the warning was so strange, so serious, that Ramesh couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling creeping over him.

Still, he decided to laugh it off. There was no way anyone was trying to kill Mr. Verma. And even if they were, surely his cake wasn’t the weapon. He had made it himself (albeit poorly), and as far as he knew, there was nothing dangerous about it.

Mr. Verma was just about to cut into the cake when suddenly, Meena from accounting, who had been watching the whole thing, stepped forward.

“Wait!” she shouted, her voice cutting through the room.

Everyone stopped and looked at her. Meena had a reputation for being careful and cautious, and her sudden outburst shocked everyone.

“Are you sure this cake is safe to eat?” Meena asked, eyeing Ramesh suspiciously. “I mean… we all know Ramesh’s baking skills aren’t exactly top-notch.”

Ramesh’s face turned red. “Hey! I worked hard on this cake!”

But Meena wasn’t convinced. She continued, “I think we should wait. There’s something off about this.”

Before anyone could react, another co-worker, Deepak, chimed in. “Yeah, I heard Ramesh’s cake set off a fire alarm last night. Do we really want Mr. Verma eating this?”

Laughter filled the room, but the mood quickly shifted when someone else said, “What if it’s poisoned?”

A tense silence fell over the office. What had started as a birthday party was quickly spiraling into something much more serious. Mr. Verma, still holding the knife, looked at the cake with suspicion. His sharp eyes moved to Ramesh, who suddenly felt all the confidence drain from his body.

Before Ramesh could protest, someone pulled out their phone and dialed the police. Within minutes, the office was swarming with officers, and Ramesh found himself at the center of an investigation. The police questioned everyone, but most of the fingers pointed at Ramesh.

Ramesh, sweating and terrified, tried to explain. “I swear, I just baked a normal cake! I didn’t put anything in it!”

The police, however, weren’t so sure. They took samples of the cake to the lab, and soon, shocking results came back. The icing on the cake contained traces of a toxic chemical—a dangerous substance that could have seriously harmed anyone who ate it.

Ramesh was speechless. How had this happened? He knew he was bad at baking, but he certainly hadn’t tried to poison anyone. Panic gripped him as the police continued to ask questions, and then, finally, they discovered the truth.

It turned out that someone else in the office—a disgruntled employee who had been quietly seething for months—had switched the icing on Ramesh’s cake with a toxic chemical, hoping to frame him for attempted murder. The employee had been upset over not getting a promotion and had wanted revenge, and Ramesh’s terrible baking skills had made him the perfect scapegoat.

Ramesh, still in shock, was taken to the police station for further questioning. As he sat in the back of the police car, he realized how his overconfidence and carelessness had led him straight into a trap. He had been so sure of himself, so eager to impress, that he hadn’t noticed the danger lurking in the background.

The day had started with a birthday cake and ended with a near-death experience. And all Ramesh could think, as the car drove away, was that maybe it was time to give up baking for good.