Pratap got into the old style elevator of the 14-storey building in Connaught Place. He was going to pay the premium of his Relevance Life Insurance at the office on the 8 th floor. Built during the days of the British Raj, the building which looked quite ghostly had elevators with grille doors. Pratap drew both the grilles shut and pressed on number 8 on the panel. As the lift was about to raise itself with a thud, a shabbily dressed man with a grisly beard crept into it through the grille. “How did you that?” asked Pratap whose rationalism couldn’t accept a solid body making its way through iron bars. “I am a ghost,” said the fellow traveller. “Oh, I see.” Pratap looked at the guy with his rationalist eye and wondered what this phenomenon could be. E=mc 2 . Mass can be converted into energy. But not this way. Pratap was still exercising his rational brain when the ghost started sobbing louder than the noise produ...
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