Solving personal problems with software.
Everything here started as something that annoyed me, or someone near me, badly enough to build a way out of it. Most were never meant to have users. They are kept on this page whether they are still running or not, because a thing that got built and then stopped being needed is still worth showing.
A private dashboard for your own blood work. Type in what the lab printed and see the trend line instead of the single number.
Lab results arrive as a PDF, get filed, and are never opened again — so the only thing that actually matters, whether a number is moving, is the one thing you never see.
A wall of 100 squares. Each square is one founder's laugh — tap it, hear them, and land on whatever they are building.
Founder directories are headshots and taglines. None of them tell you the one thing you actually want to know before a call, which is whether you would enjoy the person.
A one-page letter a brother sends his sister for Raksha Bandhan. She breaks the seal, taps through five rituals, and has to find five secrets hidden on the page before his note opens.
A rakhi arrives in the post and gets answered with a forwarded WhatsApp image. That felt like a bad trade.
An interactive 3D car with 18 biddable ad placements. Each bid stacks as a thin box on the spot, logo on the top and all four edges, and the top box holds the placement until someone outbids it.
Wondering out loud what the side of an ordinary car is worth, and deciding the only honest way to find out was to let people bid.
A tracker for the subscriptions that renew whether or not you remembered them.
The charge always lands the week you were not looking, and by then you have paid for another year of something you stopped opening in March.
Book a tradesperson while you are standing in front of them. The carpenter shows a QR code, you scan it, and you book the slot he just said out loud. Name and phone number, nothing else.
"Call me Monday." You save a number, send a WhatsApp hi, and now you are both relying on memory. Nobody calls on Monday.
Turn a recurring argument into a visual story both people can look at from the outside.
The same fight, restarted from scratch every time, because neither person can see its shape while they are inside it.