#Choudhry

[gemville]

Iridiana Earrings by Karina Choudhrie

Emeralds

Tanzanites

Pink Sapphires

Yellow Sapphires

Spessartite Garnets

South Sea Pearl

Diamonds

Source: thejewelleryeditor.com

[massiveluxuryoverdose]

Diamond-Encrusted Caviar Ring by Karina Choudhrie

Courtesy: K&Co, fine jeweler

[godzillachloe]

[exotic-indians]

[bob-the-movie-man-film-reviews]

What's Love Got To Do With It? (12): Can you GUESS how it will end?

#onemannsmovies review of "What's Love Got To Do With It?" (2023). #WhatsLoveMovie. Fun an undemanding multi-cultural RomCom. 3.5/5.

A One Mann’s Movies review of “What’s Love Got To Do With It?” (2023). Man, oh, man. It’s been a heavy few weeks of watching award candidate films. Many are very very long. Many, particularly this year, have covered topics of depression and mental health. So. it’s a nice detox to watch a romcom like ��What’s Love Got To Do With It?”. Bob the Movie Man Rating(s): Plot Summary: Zoe (Lily James)…

[vintagewarhol]

[mfi-miami]

Romspen Threw In The Towel On Uphill Foreclosure Fight

Romspen Threw In The Towel To Avoid The Agony Of Defeat On Uphill Foreclosure Fight With Jetall Companies Over Houston Office  Why Did Romspen Throw In The Towel With Ali Choudhri? Were They Afraid Of Facing The Agony Of A Humiliating Defeat? It appears Canadian lender Romspen threw in the towel in their uphill foreclosure battle with Jetall Companies. Let’s be honest. Romspen is having severe…

[hamarirai]

Mission 2024-बीजेपी में बदलाव का दौर, चार राज्यों में नए प्रदेश अध्यक्ष

भारतीय जनता पार्टी ने आज कई संग��नात्मक बदलाव किए हैं। भाजपा क��� राष्ट्रीय अध्यक्ष जगत प्रकाश नड्डा ने आज तीन राज्यों के प्रदेश अध्यक्षों के नाम को घोषणा की है। इनमे बिहार में पार्टी ने सम्राट चौधरी को बड़ा जिम्मा सौंपते हुए प्रदेश अध्यक्ष बनाया है। सम्राट कभी लालू के करीबी रहे तो कभी जदयू में रहते मांझी खेमे के पक्ष में रह नीतीश के खिलाफ बोला। फिलहाल वह भाजपा में हैं और सीएम नीतीश और डिप्टी सीएम…

[gemville]

The Nereids Bead Necklace by Karina Choudhrie

Green and Blue Turquoise Beads, Lavender Jasper, Faceted Black Diamonds, Yellow Gold

Source: thejewelleryeditor.com

[zangtangimpersonator]

I got a fascinating Manual Review for using an Arabic name, but aside from that it seems like using names like Choudhry are safer than nationalities and more effective. also for some reason it knows who cesc fabregas is, and does him well??

[mattellaneous]

@leschanceux asked if you can hear me, just walk away.

Mates and mission first, me second

Josh doesn't have much that he still remembers from Sandhurst, which is very much the reason why he got kicked out in the first place. However, that quote, that value that they expected him to live by, it still sticks with him even after all these years. His safety secondary to the lives of his friends, of his comrades.

No Carter, you cannot enter that ship. It is a trap

But that was his friend's voice over the comms. Terrified in the middle of hostile territory, surrounded by Cybermen hellbent on making him one of them. He could not stand by and listen when he could do something about it. He straightened his back, gripped his gun just a little tighter than he needed to. "With all due respect, sir, you can fuck right off. Captain Choudhry is in there and if it was me, he would move heaven and earth to get me back. I am only offering him the same kindness."

Among the cacophony of voices shouting his name and demands he turn around right now if he knows what is good for him, he runs towards the ship, towards his friend.

"Sami? Sami can you hear me? I'm on my way to the cybership now, I'm coming to get you."

[cavalierzee]

The Axis Of Assistance

Any leader who supports Zionist Israel is a traitor to Palestine and the Muslim Ummah.

Rabyna Choudhry

[leftistteendrama]

✨EP 33 OUT NOW✨Maria is joined by Abir Mohammad to break down powerful depictions of British teenagers in the South Asian diaspora on Some Girls, Ackley Bridge, Sex Education, and Waterloo Road. This episode is jam packed with South Asian teen characters living in all their complexity – as sexual beings, as Muslims, as hijabis, as queer teens, as protest leaders. We celebrate beloved characters like Saz Kaur, Nasreen Paracha, Naveed Haider, Olivia Hanan, Anwar Bakshi, and Samia Choudhry, while also talking about the ways South Asian representation can continue to be improved in teen dramas.

Hosted by Maria DiPasquale, produced by Jeff McHale, with art by Charles O'Leary, Leftist Teen Drama Ep 33 is now streaming everywhere you get your podcasts!

[bob-the-movie-man-film-reviews]

Barbie (PG): In the great 'beach-off' between the Matriarchy and the Patriarchy... the women win.

#onemannsmovies review of "Barbie" (2023). Wickedly funny feminist treatise that both amuses and entertains. 4/5.

A One Mann’s Movies review of “Barbie” (2023). Wow, what an obvious shot-in-the-arm the much advertised “Barbenheimer” weekend is going to be for UK cinemas. As one of the cleaners was saying to his colleague when I was coming out of my screening, “I’ve never seen it so busy”. Wonderful! I’ve yet to see “Oppenheimer”. But as for “Barbie”, its a funny, vibrantly colourful jaunt but with some…

[tisiphonewolfe]

Naenia, Through Murder: WIP Intro

Original Fiction - Standalone Novella

Pitch: A homicide detective on the trail of a serial killer doesn’t realise that her girlfriend is the grim reaper, who has a mystery of her own to solve.

Genre: Urban/Paranormal Fantasy

Word Count: 46k

Staus: First Draft Complete

Naenia, the Death responsible for murder victims, is summoned to escort homicide detective Carina Choudhry at the hour of her passing, and is shocked when Carina fails to die. She is even more shocked to find that Carina can see her, thinks that she’s human, and wants to go on a date with her. Carina was supposed to die from a stab wound while investigating a serial killer. When a witness abruptly passes away with no apparent cause of death, Naenia realises that the killer is being assisted by one of her colleagues. She must conceal Carina’s botched death from the other reapers and track down the killer’s accomplice, all while trying to navigate a romance with a living human.

Features

🪦 Supernatural murder-mystery

🪦 Cute dates

🪦 Nine major personifications of Death

🪦 Dramatic hidden identity romance

🪦 A car chase with a skeleton

🪦 Espionage, investigations, and interrogations

🪦 That damnable bird!

Content Warnings (CW): Body horror, gore, death, violence.

Character Intros

Watch this space . . .

Setting

In 'Naenia, Through Murder' the power of human imagination has, over the millenia, brought beings such as the Deaths into existence. They escort the spirits of the dead through the halls of bone and flesh and into the ashen forest. The Deaths reside in a spire of bone which looms into the perpetual moonlit night of the world beyond.

The living world is much like our own, but a bit to the left. The city looks like Victorian London, the fashion comes from Columbo, and technology is all mechanical. The country is ruled by the Lord Minister and his parliament.

Taglist (DM to be added or removed): No-one yet . . .

Prologue below the cut

Naenia stalked the halls of bone and flesh, the twisted veins that pulsed below the ashen forest, seeking her next passenger.

She always stalked; for there was no need to sprint, and to sidle lacked gravitas. The halls would deliver her precisely where and when she was called. The rest was merely professional image - the passengers expected her to be a huntress, and so she was.

The endless ticking in the corridors was too loud today; she laid her hand upon the wall, resting it upon a displaced ulnar between undulating, fleshy membranes, and listened.

Ca-clang! Ca-clang!

The distorted and wavering knell seemed close; she felt it shudder below her ghostly-pale fingertips, her skin - or approximation thereof - so tissue-paper thin that one could see every green vein below it. She traced her fingers along the wall, following the ringing bell through the gloom by touch towards her archway.

Three twists, a fork, and a bend later, the ringing now hit her ears with force; at the tapering end of this hall, tucked between a bellowing pair of lungs, stood a tall, obsidian clock.

Its pendulum hung still; the pointing finger-bones of the clock’s hands jerked in their effort to tick forward. Naenia tapped a knuckle against the glass covering the clock-face to see if it might spring back into movement - the hands twitched miserably.

Atop the clock was a raven, tugging on a ragged rope of twined intestine with its beak. As Naenia withdrew her hand, it let go of the rope and hopped onto her wrist; the great bell’s ringing ceased. The raven croaked at her expectantly, and she brushed the crown of its head with her thumb. “Good work,” she muttered. The bird ruffled its feathers indignantly, then flew away - clearly Aurelia had been feeding it, despite having been told a thousand times not to.

She called to her scythe, and it appeared, singing in her hand. Others among the nine deaths had made their weapons elegant, ominous, elaborate - Naenia found this extravagant. Passengers expected to see a simple farming implement; a lengthy wooden snath to hold it by, and a gleaming steel blade. There was no need to trouble the dead with unexpected golden spikes, silver inlay, or an onyx-black blade that curved nearly three-quarters around the head. She thought of Aurelia again and snorted.

Hefting the scythe, she examined the pulsating crevice that terminated the hallway - finding the appropriate angle, she stepped smartly into a slice that sheared the skin apart. It curled and withered away, letting in the muted orange glow of streetlamps and permitting her to step through into the living world.

Pattering rain soaked her permanently-damp hair. She brushed aside a dark lock, and tucked it behind her ear, and looked around for her passenger.

She had arrived in a gloomy city backstreet. Industrial, red-brick buildings stained with soot loomed into the smog  over the narrow sett-paved road, broken drainpipes pouring their deluge into the gutters. Flowers wilted in hanging-baskets; shutters were boarded over; no lights flickered at the cracked windows. The hem of Naenia’s midnight gown had already grown heavy as she stepped barefoot into the stream, through which the unmistakable trickle of blood was flowing.

She approached the sodden, balled-up figure that lay in the middle of the road, curious to see which unfortunate human had met their end this night. It was a woman - neat, straight-cut dark hair, brown skin, and runner’s muscles, wearing a heavy woollen coat. Below it, she was dressed smartly. Her shirt was adorned with a golden pin and she clutched a snub-nosed revolver to her chest - a chest that bore a deep, gaping wound, from which her heart’s blood spattering into the street. Like many of Naenia’s passengers, her wide, kind face was not set peacefully; it was scrunched up in an expression of agony and despair. Naenia stood beside her, respectfully waiting for the spirit to rise from the body, readying her scythe for the moment she would cut the cord connecting the two - that’s when she heard the moan.

This woman was still alive.

Naenia was not quite sure what to do with this fact. The clock had stopped - she had made certain of that. The woman’s time was over. She could see the spirit breaking free - glassy reflections of the woman’s limbs rose from her prone form, flailing their way out of her stilled body. “It is alright,” she assured the spirit. “Please be calm. It is over now.”

“No,” the spirit said weakly. “I need to catch him. I need to-“

“Shh, shh.” Naenia gripped the woman’s shoulder, gently lifting her from her prison.

“I won’t go!”

The woman’s spirit floated a little above her body, flailing at the air, swimming through the ether - Naenia readied her practised stance, preparing to cut the thread with a swift swing of her scythe - but the spirit struggled still. It looked at her with wide, baleful eyes. Naenia clicked her tongue. Rarely did she have one so difficult as this - she would not be pleased if she found herself battling a phantom tonight.

She had an angle - it was narrow, but she was more than confident that she could cut the cord without harming the spirit. She set her scythe carefully - then watched in wonderment as the spirit began to claw its way back into its body.

“No, no, no, no, no,” the spirit gasped out. “I have to tell them - I have to. We have to get him.”

With a sharp breath and a gurgling cough, the woman’s body convulsed and turned over. Stunned, Naenia watched the woman claw at the wound on her chest, pressing against it with a balled-up fist. “Get help!” the woman pleaded with her hoarsely.

Naenia had existed since the first person thought to bash in another’s head with a rock; as a thought, then a dream, then a god - and now, as a reaper, as Death through Murder. She had never been called to escort anyone who was fated yet to live. She gripped the woman’s hand - the woman stared at her as though she could see her, even though Naenia knew this to be impossible. “It is okay. It will be okay. I will help you.”

[theartificialintelligentsia]

i have a lot of thoughts about City of Blades, because, good lord, i think it's one of the best books i've ever read as an adult

(spoilers below, duh)

City of Blades is ultimately a book about war, and the associated glorification of death that comes with it, the implication that, even if you die, it will be for a higher cause. it's a lesson that's been constantly repeated throughout history. you saw it in ancient times, with the Norsemen and the concept of Valhalla, that dying in battle would net you the most desirable of afterlives. you saw it with The Crusades and the retaking of the Holy Land, for the Chosen Ones, from the dirty, heathen Muslims. you saw it in the recent past, with the Cold War and the fight against the evils of Communism to spread Democracy across the world. you see it today, with the War on Terror, continuing the good fight to spread Freedom and Democracy.

but City of Blades serves as a deconstruction of that idea, to point and say, "is this not wholly and utterly insane? death is death, no matter how much you try to dress it up." many characters in this book thought they were giving their lives to something greater, and yet that turns out not to be true.

Rada Smolisk orchestrated her scheme because she thought it would jump-start the Night of the Sea of Swords and destroy the world that took everything from her. what did she get for it? a bullet to the face.

Sumitra Choudhry made her way into the City of Blades because she thought that she was going to make the ultimate hero play to stop the Voortyashtani sentinels. what did she get for it? a lonely death of dehydration.

Pandey picked a fight with Turyin because he thought that he would avenge his fallen love and exact a measure of revenge for the wrongs that had been done to him. what did he get for it? a blade to the heart.

Lalith Biswal orchestrated his scheme because he wanted his opportunity to start another war so that he could claim victory and be lauded for it as a hero. what did he get for it? a bullet to the chest.

you see so many descriptions of this disbelief over the shattering of the idea of a glorious death. Turyin, upon finding Sumitra Choudhry's corpse:

There's a trace of irritation or discomfort to [Choudhry's] large, dark eyes, as if she can't believe this is happening to her, that she should come so far just to die here, alone on a bridge over ghostly waters.

and, after she shoots Biswal:

He stares at her in disbelief. Then he says, "I'm ... I'm not going to die, am I? I can't. I just can't ..." Mulaghesh watches him. "I wasn't ... I wasn't supposed to die like this," he says softly. "I was supposed ... to have a hero's death. I'm owed a better death." [...] She can't quite tell when he dies. She can tell his vision is failing him, and then perhaps he's passed out from blood lost but is still alive ... and then ... Nothing.

all of these people died ignominious, unremarkable deaths. because war doesn't give you these hero moments like you would read about in an epic, or a movie or TV show. those are often written by those who weren't there and would never understand what kind of hell war is like. war just takes lives, without any regard for a narrative or a story.

but this is a story. and one could reasonably expect the narrative expectation of important characters meeting just fates, because they have importance to the plot structure. but this is where Bennett also plays very well upon the expectations of the readers, as well.

it's easy enough to assume that Signe would survive, because she's Turyin's sidekick, and, of course, she has to make it, right? nope! one would also assume that Vallaicha Thinadeshi would have merited a more meaningful and fulfilling death, right? nope! it's a common trope in fiction that the good guys live, and the bad guys die, because that's how it's supposed to work, right? but what we see here is that good guys and bad guys, alike, meet ends that feel hollow, unfulfilling, and meaningless. it's a very interesting subversion of expectations on Bennett's part.

and, of course, Turyin is the one that has to pick up the pieces from all of this. you would think that someone who committed as many atrocities as she did during the Yellow March and committed just as many heroic acts during the Battle of Bulikov would have merited a heroic end? nope! it's almost ignominious and unremarkable, in and of itself, for Turyin to be the last one standing at the end of all of this.

anyway. all of this is to say that i truly enjoy the thematic elements that have been employed here. it's easy enough to think back to all of the books that i read in primary and secondary education, where i only really thought of those books in terms of the themes that i would have to describe in a paper or on a test. this book has really employed such a theme in spades, but it's also provided a very enjoyable narrative to read.