Help Panshul Sue Gravity — Legal Fund for the Man Whose Chest Defies Physics

I am a seismologist at the University of Tokyo. I have studied earthquakes for 27 years. On March 2nd, I was in Narita Airport Terminal 2 when a localized seismic event caused a full evacuation. I immediately recognized the signature — non-tectonic, surface-origin, bilateral oscillation pattern consistent with bipedal locomotion of an anomalously mass-distributed human body. I had read about this in the IMD's false alarm reports but never believed it was real.

I found Mr. Jindal in the evacuation area. He was apologizing to airport security in three languages. I introduced myself. We talked for 847 seconds (I timed it — professional habit). I have now agreed to serve as an expert witness in his case. My department has allocated research funding to study what we are calling "Jindal-type seismic events." This donation is from my personal research budget. My wife thinks I've lost my mind. My colleagues think I've made the discovery of a career.

Gravity does not discriminate. But its effects are unevenly distributed. Mr. Jindal deserves justice. — Dr. T. Yamamoto, PhD, Fellow of the Seismological Society of Japan

I told him not to do this. I told him it was nonsense. I told him the neighbors would talk. (They were already talking, but about different things — specifically about the time his chest knocked over Sharma aunty's tulsi plant during Diwali 2023.)

Then 2,847 strangers donated. 2,847 people I've never met believed in my son's fight against gravity. And I thought — if the whole world supports my Panshul, who am I to say no? I'm his mother. I carried him for 9 months. (He was a normal size then. The irony is not lost on me.)

I'm now matching every donation under ₹1,000. My kitty party group (847 members) has donated collectively. Mrs. Kapoor from B-block donated ₹500 with the message "for the boy who broke my garden wall." Mrs. Mehta from C-block donated ₹200 "for the boy whose chest blocked the sun during morning yoga." I don't know whether to be proud or mortified. I choose both.

Beta, if you're reading this: I love you. I believe in you. Please stop telling the internet about our family. — Mom

No hard feelings.

OK, some hard feelings. We dated for two years. Good years, mostly. But here's the thing about dating someone whose chest enters a room 14.2 seconds before the rest of them: you stop being a couple and start being an entourage. Every restaurant, every movie, every family function — people would stare. Not at us. At him. At it. I couldn't compete. I didn't want to compete.

I broke up with him in 2023. He took it well. (His Tinder profile was active within 47 hours, so I think he was fine.) I'm donating ₹8,470 — the exact cost of our first trip to Shimla together, when things were simpler and his chest was merely "impressive" rather than "a threat to structural engineering." I hope he wins his case against gravity. I really do. He deserves someone — or something — that can handle him.

Don't read into the amount, Panshul. It's just a number. (It's not just a number. You know exactly what it means.)

I am the watchman at Panshul sir's society for 7 years. I have watched him grow. Not grow up — grow. Outward. I remember when he was a normal boy. Now he is not a normal boy. He is something else. Something the world has never seen.

Every morning, Panshul sir walks past my gate. I salute him. Not because he is my employer's tenant. Because he walks with dignity despite carrying a burden that no man should carry. The ground shakes a little when he passes. The stray dogs scatter. Mrs. Sharma's car alarm goes off. But Panshul sir just walks. Chin up, chest forward (he has no choice about the chest forward part, but still).

My salary is ₹12,000 per month. I am pledging ₹500 every month until Panshul sir wins his case or gravity apologizes. My wife says I am foolish. I say: some things are more important than money. Justice is one. Panshul sir gave me ₹5,000 for my daughter's school fees last year. He didn't have to. But he did. Now I give back. ₹500 at a time. For as long as it takes.

Panshul sir, if you read this: don't walk so fast in the morning. The vibrations are damaging the speed breaker near Gate 2.

I am donating the exact cost of one bra. Because I can't keep doing this for free.

Let me be clear: I am a tailor. A normal tailor. I make kurtas, sherwanis, blouses. Normal things for normal bodies. Then Panshul walked into my shop in 2020 and nothing has been normal since. He asked me if I could "make a custom support garment." I said yes because I didn't know what I was agreeing to. When he showed me the measurements, I thought he was joking. He was not joking. 14.2 inches of clearance needed. Seven hooks minimum. Titanium alloy wire because steel "bends under pressure." This is not tailoring. This is engineering.

I have now made 847 support garments in my career. Only 8 of them have been for Panshul. Those 8 have taken more time, materials, and emotional energy than the other 839 combined. Each one takes me three weeks. Normal bra: 2 hours. Panshul's bra: 3 weeks, 14 fittings, and a chiropractor visit for my wrist afterwards. I developed carpal tunnel specifically from the metalwork on hook #6. My orthopedist wrote "occupational hazard: Jindal bra construction" on my medical certificate. The pharmacy thought it was a joke.

I'm donating ₹47,000 because that's what I charge for one bra, and honestly, I should be charging double. The next one will be ₹94,000. Consider this my final act of charity. Unless Project Ironclad works, in which case I'm retiring. — Irfan Bhai, Master Tailor, 23 years experience, 8 of which have been Panshul-related

Right, so here's the thing. I was at the Taj Mahal. Beautiful day. Wife and I, 25th anniversary trip. Once in a lifetime stuff. We're standing at the reflecting pool, waiting for that perfect symmetrical photo — you know the one everyone takes. Sun's setting. Camera's ready. And then this bloke walks past between us and the Taj.

I am not exaggerating when I say his chest eclipsed the Taj Mahal. Like a solar eclipse, but chest. My wife's photo — the one she'd been planning for 25 years — has the Taj Mahal in the background and what appears to be a human torso in the foreground that looks like it was photoshopped in from a different dimension. I was angry for about 47 seconds and then I just started laughing. Hardest I've laughed since 1999.

Found out about this campaign from the YouTube documentary. Recognized him immediately. The chest is unmistakable. Mate, sue gravity. Sue God. Sue whoever did this to you. You've earned it. My wife wants a reshoot at the Taj and she wants you there this time, deliberately, as a feature not a bug. She says the photo she got is "the most unique Taj Mahal photo in the world" and she's printed it on a canvas. — Bazza, Perth

Mother Dairy wishes to clarify that our products — including toned milk, full cream milk, double toned milk, curd, lassi, paneer, and ice cream — have no scientifically established causal relationship with the condition experienced by Mr. Panshul Jindal. This donation is made under our "Community Wellness" CSR initiative and should not be interpreted as an admission of liability, responsibility, or guilt.

That said, we note that Mr. Jindal's consumption of our full cream milk (approximately 847ml daily from 2018–2023, as documented in his medical records) coincided with the period of his condition's most rapid development. Correlation is not causation. We are donating because we care about community health. Not because our legal team recommended it. (Our legal team did recommend it. This is unrelated.)

Mother Dairy: Pure, Fresh, and Definitely Not Responsible for This.

My bad.

Look, I make billions of humans. Billions. The assembly line gets hectic. Sometimes the proportions slider sticks. Sometimes the "chest" parameter gets locked at maximum and nobody notices until it's too late. Quality control was supposed to catch this. QC was on lunch break. I've filed an internal review.

I'm donating ₹69 because even I have a sense of humor. Also because I'm technically the defendant in this case (if you trace gravity back far enough, it leads to Me), and My attorney says I should "demonstrate good faith." Consider this good faith. Don't ask for more. I've got 8 billion other projects.

Panshul, I know you're suing gravity. Gravity works for Me. This is a conflict of interest. But between us: you're not wrong. I overdid it. — G

In 2020, a customer visited our Orchard Road location requesting a fitting. Our most senior fitter, Maria Chen (14 years experience, trained in Milan), took one look and called corporate. Corporate called engineering. Engineering called materials science. Materials science called a structural engineer. The structural engineer called in sick the next day.

The result of that visit was the creation of our "Beyond G" product category — our first new size classification in 47 years of operation. The category was designed for exactly one (1) customer. That customer is Mr. Panshul Jindal. The "Beyond G" line has since been discontinued because Mr. Jindal was the only customer and he prefers the titanium-alloy garments made by his tailor in Delhi. We respect this decision. We also donate to his legal fund because our team in Singapore still talks about the day "the measurement tape ran out."

1 rupee per gram. You know I had to. — Your doctor

I've been Panshul's primary physician at AIIMS for three years. In that time, I have: published 4 papers about his condition, presented at 47 international conferences, been interviewed for the WebMD feature, consulted on the Netflix documentary, testified in the Supreme Court PIL hearing, and developed what I believe is the first comprehensive medical framework for "Jindal Thoracic Anomaly." My colleagues at AIIMS call me "Dr. Chest" behind my back. I've accepted this.

The ₹14,200 is symbolic — 1 rupee per gram of excess thoracic tissue, as measured in our most recent clinical assessment. His case against gravity may seem absurd, but from a medical perspective, the gravitational load on his skeletal structure IS causing real, documented harm. If any other force were doing this to a human body, we'd call it assault. Just because it's gravity doesn't make the damage less real. Sue them, Panshul. I'll testify again.

For the bridge study. We're still fascinated.

Our department has been studying Mr. Jindal's biomechanics since 2022, when one of our PhD students noticed that the load distribution challenges presented by his thoracic region were mathematically identical to problems we encounter in cantilever bridge design. We ran the numbers. The similarities were uncanny. His chest, structurally speaking, behaves like a 14.2-meter cantilevered span with insufficient counterbalance — exactly the kind of problem that causes bridges to fail.

The fact that Mr. Jindal's spine has NOT failed is, frankly, the most interesting structural engineering puzzle any of us have encountered. Three PhD theses are currently in progress. One of our students, who got into IIT to design aircraft, is now designing his bra under Project Ironclad. We're proud to support this campaign. For science.

I am the Uber driver from the incident. The one from the news story. The one whose Wagon R was "structurally compromised" when Panshul sat in the front seat. I want to set the record straight: my car did NOT tip over. It listed. There's a difference. The left two wheels maintained contact with the ground at all times. Mostly.

Uber deactivated my account for "vehicle safety concerns." I got it back after 47 days when I showed them it was the passenger, not the car. They gave me a new car. I'm donating ₹847 because that's the fare Panshul paid that day (surge pricing, it was raining), and he tipped me ₹200 and apologized 14 times during the ride. Good man. Unusual chest. I support his case against gravity. Gravity is the reason my suspension is shot.

I am the underwriter who wrote the letter. The "uninsurable Act of God" letter. The one that's apparently framed on his wall and mentioned in every article about him.

I want to clarify: at Lloyd's, we have insured things that most people would consider impossible to insure. We've insured a satellite that hadn't been built yet. We've insured a footballer's legs for £100 million. We once insured a man's mustache. But when Mr. Jindal's application crossed my desk — forwarded by our Mumbai office with the note "please advise, we don't know what to do with this" — I ran the actuarial models 47 times. Every single time, the risk assessment came back as "undefined." Not high risk. Not unacceptable risk. Undefined. The model couldn't process it.

I wrote the letter out of genuine actuarial helplessness, not malice. I'm donating because I feel responsible. Not legally responsible — our attorneys were very clear about that — but morally. No human should be deemed uninsurable. Unless the actuarial tables literally cannot compute their existence, which, in this case, they couldn't. — J. Whitworth, FCII, Senior Underwriter, Lloyd's Syndicate 847

Sorry for the false alerts. Keep doing you.

Official statement: The IMD Delhi Division has donated ₹25,000 to this campaign under our "Community Seismological Awareness" budget. This is not because Mr. Jindal is responsible for 847 false earthquake alerts since 2019. It is not because our staff has spent approximately 14,200 person-hours investigating alerts that turned out to be "Panshul went jogging." And it is definitely not because the Stretch Goal for a dedicated seismology lab would save us ₹14.2 lakhs annually in response costs.

We are donating because we believe in community resilience. Also, Mr. Jindal, please inform us before you go jogging. We've created a special notification system just for you. The code is "Jindal Alert Level 1 through 5." Level 5 is for stairs.

For the boy who broke my garden wall.

Panshul beta, I've known you since you were a child. You used to play with my Rohit in the park. Normal boy. Good marks. Polite. Then one day you walked past my garden wall and it cracked. Not because you hit it. Because the ground vibrations from your walking loosened the foundation. The contractor said it was "seismic activity." I said it was "that Jindal boy's chest." The contractor and I were both right.

I'm donating ₹500 because your mother asked me to in the kitty party group and I can't say no to Sunita. But also because you fixed my wall the next day without being asked, and you apologized 47 times, and you brought gulab jamun. You're a good boy with a big heart. And a big... well, you know. Sue gravity. I'll testify about the wall. — Nirmala Aunty

I'm his lawyer. I shouldn't be donating to my own client's campaign. My partners think I've lost perspective. They're probably right.

I took Panshul's case because I thought it would be funny. A man suing gravity? Great dinner party story. Then I read the medical reports. Then I saw the seismology data. Then I met Dr. Yamamoto and heard about the Narita evacuation. Then I reviewed 847 pages of documentation and realized: this man has a legitimate grievance against a force of nature, and no legal framework in any country on Earth is equipped to address it. That's not funny. That's a gap in human rights law.

I'm donating ₹14,200 (matching Dr. Sharma's donation, because if the doctor believes in this, the lawyer should too) and I'm reducing my fees by 47%. Not because the case is hopeless — it has a 0.3% chance of success, which is honestly better than some of my other cases. But because some cases are worth fighting regardless of the odds. This is one of them. — Adv. P. Raghunathan, BA LLB (Hons), Supreme Court of India

This is NOT an official Netflix donation. This is from the personal funds of the 14 crew members working on "The Weight of Evidence" limited series. We pooled our money because after 47 days of filming Panshul's life, every single one of us believes in this cause.

Our director cried three times during production. Our sound engineer had to develop a new bass filter to handle the low-frequency vibrations Panshul generates when walking. Our camera operator had to learn new stabilization techniques because every time Panshul moved, the seismic activity made the tripod shake. These are technical challenges we've never faced on any other production, including our earthquake documentary from 2022.

The documentary will premiere in Q3 2024. Until then, we're rooting for Panshul. ₹47,000 — one for every word in the Supreme Court judgment that dismissed his case. — The crew of "The Weight of Evidence"

I am a structural engineer specializing in cantilever bridge design. I found this campaign through the IIT Delhi research paper titled "Biomechanical Parallels Between Human Thoracic Anomalies and Cantilever Span Failure Modes." I read it as a joke. I finished it as a convert.

The mathematics of Mr. Jindal's chest are identical — IDENTICAL — to the stress distribution models I use for bridge overhangs exceeding 14.2 meters. In my 20 years of experience, I have never seen a human body that could be modeled using infrastructure-grade structural analysis software. This man's chest is, from an engineering perspective, a bridge. A living, breathing, unsupported cantilever bridge that somehow hasn't collapsed. The fact that it hasn't is more impressive than anything I've ever designed.

I am donating because engineering marvels deserve support. Even the accidental ones. Especially the accidental ones. — P. Dubois, Ingénieur en Chef, Ponts et Chaussées