Is that NICK SAGAR? No, that’s SARYN JOHAL. The 38 year-old DUAL-NATURED,
ALPHA OAK MOON WERETIGER is an FREELANCE ILLUSTRATOR. If you ask their friends, they’re known to be NURTURING & PASSIONATE, but beware, they’re also known to be STRONG-WILLED & IMPULSIVE. Can you believe they’re from THE PRESENT? Me either. Their friends also say that they’re into SPLOSHING (oils, lotions, lubricants) & VERBOSE SEX but don’t you dare trying BATHROOM PLAY & EMETOPHILIA with them.
BASIC
full-name | Saryn Malu Johal
age | 38
phase of birth | Oak Moon
place of birth | Jaipur, India
species | Werecreature
subclass | Tiger
designation | Alpha
gender | Dual-Natured
sexuality | Homosexual
GENERAL
family | deceased. Aureo [guardian. unknown]
mate | none
children | none
pets | none
occupation | Freelance Illustrator/Artist
languages | English. non-spoken Hindi.
PHYSICAL : human
eyes | brown
hair | dark brown
height | ~1.96 m [ 6'5" ]
composition | muscled w. extra grip
tattoos | none
piercings | left helix. right nostril
PHYSICAL : werebeast
eyes | green [may glow red when threatened]
fur | orange-cinnamon blend w. platinum & black stripes
length | ~3.43 m [ 11'3" ]
mass | 434kg [ 958lb ]
unusual features | scar on left paw
----------------------------------------------------BIOGRAPHY
Their texts and historical records of the past always seemed to dictate that the things they didn't understand were the things to distrust. To be wary of. Humans. There aren't many recollected memories that Saryn can; even today, grant mercy for the misery the humans have caused him. His own pack dwindled. He'd lost his own father and mother by the age of 11. And by his 'pre-teens', his guardian; Aureo, had to teach him to fend for himself and his future pack - should he elect to join one. It had only made his distaste for humans grow the more he'd incorporate his rage and anger into these sessions. Aureo knew he had to force him to partake in sensitizing activities. Forgery pissed him off. Woodcarving only increased the amounts of unfinished projects. Through ink-work and illustration did he truly find stability. The extent of his broad imagination seemed to distract from the rise and fall of anger that troubled the young Saryn. It granted him a moment's peace - enough to get him to move quietly into the mountains.
Contrary to old tales about the silver and orange tiger that stalks the mountain range, Saryn desired companionship- to be understood. What Aureo feared was but the rage of a teenage shifter going through so many emotions and hormonal shifts. It was the whispers of New Haven that captures the man's ear to find refuge amongst those of likened minds. Perhaps it is better to be within numbers. Hopefully this decision to relocate to New Haven still proves to be worth the effort.
Even with these unpredictable occurrences and phenomenon transpiring.
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RSEB-JE Exam का अनदेखा विश्लेषण | RSEB JE Detailed Analysis | RSEB JE 2023 Vacancies | EE ME
RSEB-JE is an exam for the electricity board. It's being divided into 5 other companies (RVUN, RVPN, JVVNL, AVVNL, JdVNL) the recruitment is especially for electrical engineering some for mechanical and civil engineering. Here we have discussed about syllabus Major subjects are power systems, machines, measurement, networks, and basic electronics covering up to 70 percent of technical subjects. And the non-technical part covers Reasoning, mental ability, maths, GK, general Hindi, and general English. NON-TECHNICAL is common for mechanical and civil. Here we discussed last decade's paper pattern for all branches. 60 questions technical and 80 questions non-technical for 2 hours of duration with 1/3 mark as negative marking. Also discussed are the cut-off marks for all the categories.140/200 is a must to get selected for the open category. Engineers Academy has started a new batch online/offline for systematic preparation .for the online batch you can call 7374000888/7374000999 or download the Nimbus Learning app and for the offline batch, you can join directly our Jaipur branch Sanghi or call us at 9887582200.
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Paris, 1974. Radha is now living in Paris with her husband, Pierre, and their two daughters. She still grieves for the baby boy she gave up years ago, when she was only a child herself, but she loves being a mother to her daughters, and she’s finally found her passion—the treasure trove of scents.
She has an exciting and challenging position working for a master perfumer, helping to design completely new fragrances for clients and building her career one scent at a time. She only wishes Pierre could understand her need to work. She feels his frustration, but she can’t give up this thing that drives her.
Tasked with her first major project, Radha travels to India, where she enlists the help of her sister, Lakshmi, and the courtesans of Agra—women who use the power of fragrance to seduce, tease and entice. She’s on the cusp of a breakthrough when she finds out the son she never told her husband about is heading to Paris to find her—upending her carefully managed world and threatening to destroy a vulnerable marriage.
The Jaipur Trilogy
Book 1: The Henna Artist
Book 2: The Secret Keeper of Jaipur
Book 3: The Perfumist of Paris
The Author
Born in India and raised in the U.S. since she was nine, Alka Joshi has a BA from Stanford University and an MFA from California College of Arts. Joshi's debut novel, The Henna Artist, immediately became a NYT bestseller, a Reese Witherspoon Bookclub pick, was Longlisted for the Center for Fiction First Novel Prize, & is in development as a TV series. Her second novel, The Secret Keeper of Jaipur (2021), is followed by The Perfumist of Paris (2023). Find her online at www.alkajoshi.com.
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EXCERPT:
Paris
September 2, 1974
I pick up on the first ring; I know it’s going to be her. She always calls on his birthday. Not to remind me of the day he came into this world but to let me know I’m not alone in my remembrance.
“Jiji?” I keep my voice low. I don’t want to wake Pierre and the girls.
“Kaisa ho, choti behen?” my sister says. I hear the smile in her voice, and I respond with my own. It’s lovely to hear Lakshmi’s gentle Hindi here in my Paris apartment four thousand miles away. I’d always called her Jiji—big sister—but she hadn’t always called me choti behen. It was Malik who addressed me as little sister when I first met him in Jaipur eighteen years ago, and he wasn’t even related to Jiji and me by blood. He was simply her apprentice. My sister started calling me choti behen later, after everything in Jaipur turned topsy-turvy, forcing us to make a new home in Shimla.
Today, my sister will talk about everything except the reason she’s calling. It’s the only way she’s found to make sure I get out of bed on this particular date, to prevent me from spiraling into darkness every year on the second of September, the day my son, Niki, was born.
She started the tradition the first year I was separated from him, in 1957. I was just fourteen. Jiji arrived at my boarding school with a picnic, having arranged for the headmistress to excuse me from classes. We had recently moved from Jaipur to Shimla, and I was still getting used to our new home. I think Malik was the only one of us who adjusted easily to the cooler temperatures and thinner air of the Himalayan mountains, but I saw less of him now that he was busy with activities at his own school, Bishop Cotton.
I was in history class when Jiji appeared at the door and beckoned me with a smile. As I stepped outside the room, she said, “It’s such a beautiful day, Radha. Shall we take a hike?” I looked down at my wool blazer and skirt, my stiff patent leather shoes, and wondered what had gotten into her. She laughed and told me I could change into the clothes I wore for nature camp, the one our athletics teacher scheduled every month. I’d woken with a heaviness in my chest, and I wanted to say no, but one look at her eager face told me I couldn’t deny her. She’d cooked my favorite foods for the picnic. Makki ki roti dripping with ghee. Palak paneer so creamy I always had to take a second helping. Vegetable korma. And chole, the garbanzo bean curry with plenty of fresh cilantro.
That day, we hiked Jakhu Hill. I told her how I hated math but loved my sweet old teacher. How my roommate, Mathilde, whistled in her sleep. Jiji told me that Madho Singh, Malik’s talking parakeet, was starting to learn Punjabi words. She’d begun taking him to the Community Clinic to amuse the patients while they waited to be seen by her and Dr. Jay. “The hill people have been teaching him the words they use to herd their sheep, and he’s using those same words now to corral patients in the waiting area!” She laughed, and it made me feel lighter. I’ve always loved her laugh; it’s like the temple bells that worshippers ring to receive blessings from Bhagwan.
When we reached the temple at the top of the trail, we stopped to eat and watched the monkeys frolicking in the trees. A few of the bolder macaques eyed our lunch from just a few feet away. As I started to tell her a story about the Shakespeare play we were rehearsing after school, I stopped abruptly, remembering the plays Ravi and I used to rehearse together, the prelude to our lovemaking. When I froze, she knew it was time to steer the conversation into less dangerous territory, and she smoothly transitioned to how many times she’d beat Dr. Jay at backgammon.
“I let Jay think he’s winning until he realizes he isn’t,” Lakshmi grinned.
I liked Dr. Kumar (Dr. Jay to Malik and me), the doctor who looked after me when I was pregnant with Niki—here in Shimla. I’d been the first to notice that he couldn’t take his eyes off Lakshmi, but she’d dismissed it; she merely considered the two of them to be good friends. And here he and my sister have been married now for ten years! He’s been good for her—better than her ex-husband was. He taught her to ride horses. In the beginning, she was scared to be high off the ground (secretly, I think she was afraid of losing control), but now she can’t imagine her life without her favorite gelding, Chandra.
So lost am I in memories of the sharp scents of Shimla’s pines, the fresh hay Chandra enjoys, the fragrance of lime aftershave and antiseptic coming off Dr. Jay’s coat, that I don’t hear Lakshmi’s question. She asks again. My sister knows how to exercise infinite patience—she had to do it often enough with those society ladies in Jaipur whose bodies she spent hours decorating with henna paste.
I look at the clock on my living room wall. “Well, in another hour, I’ll get the girls up and make their breakfast.” I move to the balcony windows to draw back the drapes. It’s overcast today, but a little warmer than yesterday. Down below, a moped winds its way among parked cars on our street. An older gentleman, keys jingling in his palm, unlocks his shop door a few feet from the entrance to our apartment building. “The girls and I may walk a ways before we get on the Métro.”
“Won’t the nanny be taking them to school?”
Turning from the window, I explain to Jiji that we had to let our nanny go quite suddenly and the task of taking my daughters to the International School has fallen to me.
“What happened?”
It’s a good thing Jiji can’t see the color rise in my cheeks. It’s embarrassing to admit that Shanti, my nine-year-old daughter, struck her nanny on the arm, and Yasmin did what she would have done to one of her children back in Algeria: she slapped Shanti. Even as I say it, I feel pinpricks of guilt stab the tender skin just under my belly button. What kind of mother raises a child who attacks others? Have I not taught her right from wrong? Is it because I’m neglecting her, preferring the comfort of work to raising a girl who is presenting challenges I’m not sure I can handle? Isn’t that what Pierre has been insinuating? I can almost hear him say, “This is what happens when a mother puts her work before family.” I put a hand on my forehead. Oh, why did he fire Yasmin before talking to me? I didn’t even have a chance to understand what transpired, and now my husband expects me to find a replacement. Why am I the one who must find the solution to a problem I didn’t cause?
My sister asks how my work is going. This is safer ground. My discomfort gives way to excitement. “I’ve been working on a formula for Delphine that she thinks is going to be next season’s favorite fragrance. I’m on round three of the iteration. The way she just knows how to pull back on one ingredient and add barely a drop of another to make the fragrance a success is remarkable, Jiji.”
I can talk forever about fragrances. When I’m mixing a formula, hours can pass before I stop to look around, stretch my neck or step outside the lab for a glass of water and a chat with Celeste, Delphine’s secretary. It’s Celeste who often reminds me that it’s time for me to pick up the girls from school when I’m between nannies. And when I do have someone to look after the girls, Celeste casually asks what I’m serving for dinner, reminding me that I need to stop work and get home in time to feed them. On the days Pierre cooks, I’m only too happy to stay an extra hour before finishing work for the day. It’s peaceful in the lab. And quiet. And the scents—honey and clove and vetiver and jasmine and cedar and myrrh and gardenia and musk—are such comforting companions. They ask nothing of me except the freedom to envelop another world with their essence. My sister understands. She told me once that when she skated a reed dipped in henna paste across the palm, thigh or belly of a client to draw a Turkish fig or a boteh leaf or a sleeping baby, everything fell away—time, responsibilities, worries.
My daughter Asha’s birthday is coming up. She’s turning seven, but I know Jiji won’t bring it up. Today, my sister will refrain from any mention of birthdays, babies or pregnancies because she knows these subjects will inflame my bruised memories. Lakshmi knows how hard I’ve worked to block out the existence of my firstborn, the baby I had to give up for adoption. I’d barely finished grade eight when Jiji told me why my breasts were tender, why I felt vaguely nauseous. I wanted to share the good news with Ravi: we were going to have a baby! I’d been so sure he would marry me when he found out he was going to be a father. But before I could tell him, his parents whisked him away to England to finish high school. I haven’t laid eyes on him since. Did he know we’d had a son? Or that our baby’s name is Nikhil?
I wanted so much to keep my baby, but Jiji said I needed to finish school. At thirteen, I was too young to be a mother. What a relief it was when my sister’s closest friends, Kanta and Manu, agreed to raise the baby as their own and then offered to keep me as his nanny, his ayah. They had the means, the desire and an empty nursery. I could be with Niki all day, rock him, sing him to sleep, kiss his peppercorn toes, pretend he was all mine. It took me only four months to realize that I was doing more harm than good, hurting Kanta and Manu by wanting Niki to love only me.
When I was first separated from my son, I thought about him every hour of every day. The curl on one side of his head that refused to settle down. The way his belly button stuck out. How eagerly his fat fingers grasped the milk bottle I wasn’t supposed to give him. Having lost her own baby, Kanta was happy to feed Niki from her own breast. And that made me jealous—and furious. Why did she get to nurse my baby and pretend he was hers? I knew it was better for him to accept her as his new mother, but still. I hated her for it.
I knew that as long as I stayed in Kanta’s house, I would keep Niki from loving the woman who wanted to nurture him and was capable of caring for him in the long run. Lakshmi saw it, too. But she left the decision to me. So I made the only choice I could. I left him. And I tried my best to pretend he never existed. If I could convince myself that the hours Ravi Singh and I spent rehearsing Shakespeare—coiling our bodies around each other as Othello and Desdemona, devouring each other into exhaustion—had been a dream, surely I could convince myself our baby had been a dream, too.
And it worked. On every day but the second of September.
Ever since I left Jaipur, Kanta has been sending envelopes so thick I know what they contain without opening them: photos of Niki the baby, the toddler, the boy. I return each one, unopened, safe in the knowledge that the past can’t touch me, can’t splice my heart, can’t leave me bleeding.
The last time I saw Jiji in Shimla, she showed me a similar envelope addressed to her. I recognized the blue paper, Kanta’s elegant handwriting—letters like g and y looping gracefully—and shook my head. “When you’re ready, we can look at the photos together,” Jiji said.
But I knew I never would.
Today, I’ll make it through Niki’s seventeenth birthday in a haze, as I always do. I know tomorrow will be better. Tomorrow, I’ll be able to do what I couldn’t today. I’ll seal that memory of my firstborn as tightly as if I were securing the lid of a steel tiffin for my lunch, making sure that not a drop of the masala dal can escape.
IND vs NZ T20 Series: युजवेंद्र चहल ने जयपुर से पोस्ट की सिंगल सेल्फी, कमेंट आया- भाभी कहां हैं?
IND vs NZ T20 Series: युजवेंद्र चहल ने जयपुर से पोस्ट की सिंगल सेल्फी, कमेंट आया- भाभी कहां हैं?
Cricket Latest News: भारतीय क्रिकेट टीम के खिलाड़ी युजवेन्द्र चहल की सेल्फी पर लोंगों ने उनकी पत्नी के बारे में पूछा है.
India vs New Zealand T20 Match in Jaipur: राजस्थान (Rajasthan) की राजधानी जयपुर में भारत और न्यूजीलैंड के बीच टी20 सीरीज का पहला मुकाबला सवाई मानसिंह स्टेडियम में खेला जाएगा. इस मुकाबले के लिए भारतीय टीम के खिलाड़ी युजवेंद्र चहल जयपुर पहुंचे हैं. यजुवेन्द्र ने एक सेल्फी…
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In 1986, when the director Mira Nair was scouting for her film Salaam Bombay! at the National School of Drama in New Delhi, she fixed her gaze on a young man from Jaipur. "I noticed his focus, his intensity, his very remarkable look—his hooded eyes," she later recalled of seeing Irrfan Khan. Though she cast him, she soon decided that he was too towering at more than six feet, that he seemed too well fed to convincingly play a malnourished child. To Khan's dismay, Nair pared his role down to scraps. "I remember sobbing all night when Mira told me that my part was reduced to merely nothing," the actor told the Indian magazine Open in 2015. "But it changed something within me. I was prepared for anything after that."
The film would go on to be nominated for an Oscar, but Khan's role in it as a professional letter writer was confined to just one scene. He made an impression anyway, vanishing into the character as though he really did spend his days composing letters on the streets of Mumbai. The setback didn't blur Khan's focus but instead revealed it. His dogged work ethic, combined with his striking command of his craft, would make him a star unlike any India had known before. Khan walked the tightrope between commercial and art-house Hindi cinema with ease, helping viewers imagine a future in which such a binary didn't exist. Even more impressively, he accomplished this while making major inroads in English-language films, appearing in such big-ticket titles as Slumdog Millionaire (2008), Life of Pi (2012), and Jurassic World (2015). He toiled tirelessly throughout his career, thereby cementing himself in popular memory.
The actor died Wednesday in Mumbai, two years after being diagnosed with neuroendocrine cancer.
i was tagged by @lblis @aurtae @jinseas @2awake thank u my loves okay lets go time to r a n t
1. What’s your name and what does it mean?
my name is Aisha, which comes from Arabic. I think literally it means “she who lives” but my arabic teacher says it also means like “lively woman” so that’s what i’m going with
2. Where from the motherland is you/your family from?
my parents are from maharashtra - they grew up in a town right outside Mumbai and then moved to America 10 years or so before i was born
3. Would you move back to where your family is from, why or why not?
i would love to visit again, and but I don’t want to move there permanently; my family and my life is established here.
4. What language(s) can you speak?
i can speak hindi/urdu, english, french and arabic (i’m not as fluent), i can make myself understood in konkani, and i can understand marathi. for the Desi languages (hindi/urdu, konkani, marathi) the grammar escapes me sometimes and I can’t read anything except for urdu (and that’s bc of Arabic) but yeah
5. Favorite Bollywood movie?
i haven’t watched Bollywood in awhile but movies i’ll never hesitate to rewatch are Lagaan and Piku. honorary mention for kal ho naa ho because that movie broke my heart and made me aware of my own mortality when i was 6 years old and my older sisters had the audacity to laugh at me when i couldn’t stop crying #funfamilymemories
6. Favorite desi meal?
my mom’s chicken salan....or her shrimp salan... honestly any of her food. pav baji, sabudana vada.. idk how you spell it umm shrikhand?? like sweet yoghurt, my mom makes it every year for eid.
7. Where in the motherland do you want to visit?
Rajasthan... my sisters got to go to Jaipur but i’ve never been on a long enough visit to do super touristy stuff. anyways it’s just seems really beautiful
8. Favorite desi singer?
Lata Mangeshkar, Alka Yagnik, Sonu Nigam, Rahat Fateh Ali Khan, A.R. Rahman omg my childhood askfjh
9. Describe your favorite desi outfit?
i'm sure these are both super out of style now but 1) shalwar kameez with super balloony colorful shalwar or 2) shalwar kameez with churi daar shalwar and super tall high heels. Also lahengas in general
10. Can you make a round roti?
i mean like probably but like... i won’t. patel bros readymade parathay exist for a reason. (im sorry)
11. Favorite Bollywood actor?
I like Irrfan Khan a lot, and I enjoy a lot of Aamir Khan’s older work (rang de basanti, lagaan, taare zameen par, 3 idiots) rn i can’t remember any of the new generation of Bolly actors rip
12. Favorite Bollywood actress?
Deepika, Kajol, Madhuri Dixit, Sonam Kapoor, Sanya Malhotra gets an honorary mention bc i saw her in Dangal and she was so cute akldhf
13. Favorite Desi in western media?
Riz Ahmed, Hasan Minhaj sometimes
14. Strange superstitions you’ve heard from relatives.
don’t whistle at night (or ever), otherwise snakes will come and get you. close the curtains once the sun sets otherwise bad things will enter your home. if you’re hiccuping it means someone is remembering you/thinking of you, don’t tell anyone any good thing that’s happening to you to protect from evil eye.
15. Describe your spice tolerance.
I mean if we’re talking tolerance it’s high but like genuine enjoyment????? not much. my mom doesn’t cook that spicy.
16. Best street food.
pani puri, bhel puri, those snow cones that come in plastic pouches
17. The weirdest question you got from a non desi person.
how can i be muslim and from India. i’m p sure i remember someone asking me why i was eating beef if i’m from India smh
18. How do you like your chai?
milk, sugar, cardamom and cinnamon!
19. When was the last time you have visited the motherland (if you dont live there)?
when i was 11, so ten years ago :(
20. Your favorite and least favorite part of your culture?
favorite: i like the sense of family and community in desi households. i like the idea that i can go to your house once and then call your parents auntie and uncle and if our families have been to each others’ houses multiple times i can just call you my cousin. i like the vibrancy and diversity of our cultures. i love how song and dance is just kind of ingrained into the culture. (My dad who “hates films” used to not go a day without singing his old favorite songs from the 70s and 80s.)
least favorite: (copied from the post i made awhile ago) the desi community in general needs to get past the whole “let’s not stir the pot” mentality where individuals care more about what the community folk/relatives say about them than fixing actual problems and this includes silencing people that rightfully call out their bigoted family members to “keep the peace” or show respect to your elders or whatever. like it just means we’re settling into racism, colorism, sexism, homophobia, a fundamental misunderstanding of mental illnesses, and a plethora of other issues because desi communities prize their reputation and their ties to traditionalism above all like.
and ALSO for Desi Muslims specifically, we need to stop pretending it’s the sanctity of our religion we’re protecting when we’re being homophobic/transphobic/racist/sexist when it’s really that deeply protected conservatism that’s been socialized into us okay B YE
i’ll tag @kuraepika @winwinwonwon @gothlaws @sitaaras @kwnsyg @jkslibragf also if you read this far down and you’re desi i’m tagging you too k love u
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Some major places to spend a holiday with the whole family.
Most famous places in India for holiday.
The most difficult task is to decide which place will be the best place for us to visit.
Because there is such a great place in India, where no matter how much it seems to move around and feel like going again and again like. Rajasthan, Himachal Pradesh All these are my favorite places where I like to go very much.
Best holiday destination in Rajasthan.
I would like to tell about the historical places like the beginning of history from Rajasthan itself and according to me, Every person must come to Rajasthan with his family to know about the history and places around. Rajasthan is considered to be one of the largest states of India, which is in the northwestern part of India. Rajasthan is famous for its good beauty, magnificent palaces, and forts. Rajasthan is the city of lakes which is known as Udaipur city. The tales of Maharana Pratap started from Rajasthan which is popular all over the world. The language of Rajasthan is very lovely in which Rajasthani, Marwari, Mewari, Dhundhari, Mewati and Harauti, Hindi, Punjabi are also spoken. Rajasthan is well known for its folk music and traditional dances like Ghumar Puppet which is the main part of the Rajasthani culture. If we talk about roaming in Rajasthan, then there are many good places which are perfect for spending holidays like Jaipur, Udaipur, Mount Abu, Chittorgarh, Ranakpur Ji, Kumbhalgarh, etc., where you can go to roam. Talking about vehicles, some have their own vehicles, who like to travel on their own. Without any consultant and some people choose a travel agency who can guide them well and travel that too with their comfort. There are many travel agency in Rajasthan which helps you in getting good travel like Muskan Tours & Travel the best Travel Agency in Rajasthan that too according to my good experience I am suggesting you in this you will get a very good facility that too best services with good discount It is provided so that you do not have any problem in traveling, you can also book online on this site sitting at home for yourself and your family.
Best place to spend the summer holidays in Himachal Pradesh.
Situated in the Himalayas, the northern Indian state of Himachal Pradesh is famous for its snowy mountains and lush green forests, hilly terrain, and numerous water bodies, which travelers from far and wide come to enjoy. Himachal Pradesh is a very good place for trekking and camping, you can also enjoy this place by booking the best Himachal tour package online, you can also enjoy it with your family. Its special features will make your trip good, that too according to your budget at a low price.
International tour.
Nowadays everyone's wants to travel the whole world, wants to see new things, wants to visit new places, wants to explore new places when it comes to international tour, there is a lot of places which has been made very well for the entertainment of the travelers. Wherever that travelers came from There are some places outside India to spend your vacation, where you would love to travel like Dubai Sri Lanka Thailand etc. If you want to enjoy visiting all these places, then you can book online on the Best International Tour Packages site sitting at home, this special service has been provided to you according to your comfort. so that you can enjoy your international travel well that too at a reasonable price.
“I'm from Southern California. My first time actually leaving California was to come all the way to Boston for my undergrad at Boston College. I studied physics there during my first year, until luckily, being at a Catholic school, I was forced to take theology and philosophy. That's how I fell in love with theology.”
Chantal Sanchez, MTS ’22, is a second-year MTS student studying South Asian religions and is a member of the Harvard Buddhist Community's Buddhism and Race speaker series planning committee.
From Academic Decathlon to Lifelong Passion
During my senior year of high school, I quit the softball team and joined something called “academic decathlon,” which was basically like a nerd competition. It was all the seven subjects – econ, science, math, social science, literature, music, art – and then speech, interview, and an essay. Every year, the competition focuses on a specific subject. The year I joined, it was all about India. So I learned an obscene amount about India.
At the end of that year, I graduated and started at Boston College as a physics major. We had a few key requirements, including theology and cultural diversity. When I saw there was a Hinduism class that counted for cultural diversity, I was like, cool – I just learned all about India. So I took that class, along with another in comparative Islam and Christianity. Starting with those classes, I fell in love with the study of theology. In my Hinduism class, in particular, I realized I enjoy the work. I had developed a relationship with the professor, and I was loving what we were learning. By my sophomore year, I had switched my major from physics to theology.
Fast forward to the end of sophomore year, as I was preparing to study abroad in France. I heard from my Hinduism professor that there was a study abroad in Nepal that I didn't know about. I changed my plans, and I ended up doing a language program for three weeks in India before flying to Kathmandu, Nepal, for four months of study abroad.
For the academic decathlon in high school, I had learned Indian history from the beginning of time all the way up to the current day. I remember seeing a picture of the wind palace, Hawa Mahal, when I was studying during my senior year of high school. On study abroad, I actually got to see it in real life, in Jaipur. I had learned so much from books, so much about India’s historical background, deities, and iconography. Before going there, I knew that book religion is very different than place practice, as it always is. But seeing the doctrines and beliefs I had learned about in real life was transformative.
My studies abroad solidified things for me: I would specialize in South Asian religions. Today, that's what I'm doing at HDS.
Curiosity and Faith
I grew up in a secular household. My mom was 17 when she had me, so she was a child herself. She didn’t know what religion was, and she didn't really want to force anything on us. We actually shopped around different religions, like Latter Day Saints, Jehovah's Witness, a myriad of random Christian churches in So-Cal. A lot of them were hippie types of places – just music the whole time. I think we even went to a temple. When I was 12 she told me and my sister, you guys figure it out. I'm not going to tell you what to believe.
For a while, I was just kind of neutral to religion. I felt like I respected human beings, regardless of their beliefs. But I was still curious about faith. I always wondered, what is it about people that makes them believe? I always thought about it, especially the way religion connects so many people in the world.
During my study abroad in college, I often went to the Shiva temple with my host family in Nepal. There was one random Sunday when I was on my way to meet up with some friends from school, and I had an intense need to go to the Shiva temple on my own. I thought, OK, I already know the routine: I circumambulate this tree, touch this, do this. So I did it, on my own. Stopping at the temple became part of my routine for walking to school every day.
There was another moment when I was studying at the Buddhist monastery in Nepal, where there were practicing monks of all ages. One of my teachers was actually a Buddhist monk, who taught us, verse by verse, one of their founding texts, just as if we were monks in the monastery as well. I remember once, my friend and I went down to daily puja, which means worship. This worship involved a lot of sounds. They blow horns, there's a drum, and sometimes they chant. We were sitting and meditating in this cacophony of noises, which might surprise some people who don't think that's how you practice, especially meditation-wise. But it was in that moment of being drowned by all these sounds that I found clarity. I realized this is for me.
After being at a monastery and having these experiences, I've recently fully identified as Buddhist. I have my own Buddhist shrine altar. I’m on an interesting journey.
Coming to HDS
As a first-gen college student, I didn't know anything about college. I didn't even know Boston College was Jesuit until I got there, which is ridiculous. I had a theology professor during my freshman year who really helped me figure out that college is meant to explore what you think, not just to get a job. The job will come later, she told me, as long as you find your interests.
This professor, along with my Hinduism professor and another theology professor, helped lay the stepping stones for me. That path ultimately led me to grad school.
As I geared up for grad school applications, I was looking for schools that would support my specific studies. But I also loved the Jesuit values of Boston College, which is very much whole-person oriented. That was something I had in mind as well, that I wanted an environment that would develop me as a person.
I did Diversity and Explorations in 2019, which allowed me to meet some professors and see Harvard Divinity School. Ultimately, this visit, along with my wish to specialize and have interactions with a myriad of different religions and different people, is really what solidified my decision to come to HDS.
Exploring Interests in New Ways
For my senior thesis at BC, I focused on how the participation of women in politics has grown through Hindu nationalism, which is an interesting paradox. When you look at a fundamentalist right-wing type of organization, it usually hearkens back to traditional values. The traditional values of womanhood are to stay in the home. But now you have these women who are fierce proponents of Hindu nationalist politics who are in leadership positions. It's an interesting thing to see. I explored that during my senior thesis, and I’ve explored that more at HDS. In particular, I took a religious nationalism class this past year that gave me a breadth of understanding of religious nationalism, historically and all over the world. It really put my thesis into perspective.
I think one of my favorite classes I took this past year was called Writing South Asia. It was like an everyday English literature class, but focused on South Asian writers. I got to read poetry anthologies, novels, and plays from critical South Asian authors. It was like a breath of fresh air, honestly. Outside of academics, I always read fiction. I appreciated the chance to read genres that I read on my own time in an academic context, as well as the opportunity to gain a different perspective on my studies within South Asia (in particular, a perspective from South Asian voices, rather than from academic texts written by old white men).
Another favorite this past semester was my “Introduction to Buddhist Commentaries” class with Charles Hallisey. We read an entire commentary a week, which is a lot of reading and a lot to process. But the class really helped me understand how to look at what scripture is. We asked, what is text versus scripture? What is the meaning versus my meaning? Can we even use the word scripture in terms of Eastern religions? That class really was a mind-blow.
Remote Learning, Real Challenges
I initially thought I would apply for a Fulbright to continue my undergraduate thesis research after graduation. But unfortunately, I don't know anymore. A lot of that is because of the past year of Zoom University was unkind to me. I was very depressed all this past year because of school online.
I've always been a very driven person, and school has been my life. As a first-gen college student, since I was born, that's what my whole family told me to do. Your only job was to go to college. To not know what I want any more has been a little bit rough. I'm a little lost, and I hope that going back in person, making some connections, and talking with people will help me get back on track.
But among not having a great time this whole past year, a highlight was my Hindi Professor Richard Delacy. We had Hindi class four days a week. It was the most fun, engaging online class ever.
I also enjoyed being a part of the Harvard Buddhist Community's Buddhism and Race speaker series planning committee. We helped organize an eight-month long speaker series, which we’ve been planning since September of last year. All first semester we planned, contacted speakers, and figured out the funding. Since January of this year, we’ve “hosted” one speaker a month to explore different topics relating to the large umbrella of what ‘Buddhism and Race’ entails. A focus has been how we can look at our own practice of Buddhism and the Dharma and apply that to the issue of our time: race and racism.
Looking Forward
I’m really looking forward to being able to meet people and make friends! I didn’t make many because of Zoom and I can’t wait to diversify. I am also really excited to just be a part of the greater Harvard community. In undergrad, I was always going to random events here and there if I had a spare hour and I hope to be able to do the same now. And of course, I am particularly pumped to be continuing my work with HBC’s Buddhism and Race committee as we gear up to plan a dynamic in-person event in spring of 2022!
Interviewed and edited by Gianna Cacciatore; photos courtesy of Chantal Sanchez.
राजस्थान में बिजली संकट, 6 रैक कोयला कम मिलने से 7 यूनिट बंद, रबी फसल की कैसे बुआई करेंगे किसान
राजस्थान में बिजली संकट, 6 रैक कोयला कम मिलने से 7 यूनिट बंद, रबी फसल की कैसे बुआई करेंगे किसान
जयपुरएक तहफ जहां मुख्यमंत्री ��शोक गहलोत कैबिनेट विस्तार की तैयारियों में हैं वहीं दूसरी तरफ राजस्थान में एक बार फिर से बिजली संकट पैदा होने लगे हैं। शुक्रवार और शनिवार को विभिन्न थर्मल पावर स्टेशनों से मिली जानकारी के मुताबिक कोयले की कमी के चलते 7 बिजली यूनिट बंद हो चुकी हैं। राजस्थान में 2 हजार 429 मेगावाट बिजली का प्रोडक्शन पहले से ही कम हो रहा है, ऐसे में 7 बिजली यूनिट का बंद होना बड़ा संकट…
The paintbrush art community is excited to present another unique art show, Love Story on FEBRUARY 20TH 2021. We are glad to have KOUSHAL CHOUDHARY as our participating artist.
KOUSHAL CHOUDHARY is a well known name in Indian Hindi Film Industry and has worked with the biggest banners and in several hit movies.
In the words by Koushal Choudhary
" I am Koushal Choudhary, a freelance Fine Artist, A Cine Production Designer Living in Mumbai but roots in Jaipur, India.
Art for me is a medium of self Expression and self analysis. It is about making a New me from my previous or ongoing experience.
I am not fixed to any particular medium, it varies from Painting, sculpture, photography, installation to Cinema.
My style in painting also varies from abstract to figurative & Super realism. It all depends on the subject i am expressing. "
Amar Jawan Jyoti (“The Flame of the Immortal Soldier”), dedicated especially to the “unknown soldier,” has been burning under the arch of India Gate in New Delhi since 1971. On every Republic Day of India, the Prime Minister and the chiefs of the Armed Forces pay homage to the country’s soldiers—and thousands of tourists visit the memorial every day. Similar monuments exist in most countries around the world. While extraordinary instances of courage and leadership are honored with medals and get the recognition they richly deserve, the silent contribution made by thousands of unknown soldiers is no less significant.
That’s the image I hold in my heart when I think of the swamis whose lives have influenced my own. What have soldiers to do with swamis? Not much but, in a way, everything because Swami Vivekananda did speak of the monastic as “the soldier of God” (CW 4. 307). This essay is a small tribute to the unknown swamis but also, in general, to the unknown spiritual seekers, who—like the legendary squirrel in the Rāmāyaṇa who contributed a few grains of sand in the construction of the bridge to Lanka—have done their part and moved on, leaving behind a subtle influence that is easy to miss by those in a hurry.
Alongside the few major and obvious influences in our lives are innumerable subtle contributions of many others. Like the squirrel’s, their contributions may seem minor, but their influence is unforgettable. We do remember Rama’s squirrel even today, don’t we? The older I get, the more do I find that I have learnt, and still continue to learn, so much from so many earnest souls that the only natural response is to bow down my head with gratitude to all spiritual seekers of the past and the present, monastic or not.
One example from among many swamis who have left a lasting impression on me is that of Swami Pujyananda (1926–2007), who joined the Order at our Hardwar center in 1948, the year after India became free from the British colonial rule. He was a disciple of Swami Virajananda and was ordained into sannyasa in 1957. Before being head of our centers in Khetri and Jaipur for nearly three decades, he also served in our centers in Asansol, Vrindaban and Mumbai.
It was in Mumbai that I first met him in 1976. Within a few days of my joining the monastery he asked me casually one day to meet him in the afternoon. Thus began a daily hour-long “class” of sorts. I don’t think he was assigned the duty to mentor me, he probably just did it on his own. New to the monastery, I didn’t know what to expect. For me it just felt natural to be taught by an elderly monk. I was barely 20, so a 50-year old did feel like “elderly” to me. It no longer does, of course, now that I am much older than he was when I first met him.
The daily “class” had no definite structure or plan. Some days Swami Pujyananda would give me a Sanskrit verse, explain its meaning, and ask me to memorize it by the next day. Another day it would be a lesson in reading or writing Bengali. Some other days he would simply tell me stories and anecdotes he had heard from his seniors. Or he would ask me to read from a book (Swami Virajananda’s Toward the Goal Supreme was his favorite) and, whenever I paused with a questioning look on my face, he would smile and offer his interpretation. He moved effortlessly between English, Bengali, Hindi and Marathi, oftentimes in the same sentence, as if they were all one language. I soon got used to this hybridized form of communication.
Within a few months, unbeknownst to me I had memorized the pūjā mantras (it turned out that the Sanskrit verses he gave me were from the daily worship manual), learned how to speak, read and write Bengali (the language that Sri Ramakrishna spoke), and had read some of the basic texts vital for a young monastic. And all of this was done in such an easygoing manner that I didn’t even feel I was being “taught” something. When I look back now at those years, I smile to myself and feel fortunate and grateful for the opportunity.
Swami Pujyananda had a serious demeanor and a reserved personality. Unless you knew him well, you would never guess how joyful and playful he was. He had a vast stock of stories, jokes and anecdotes, many of which have stuck in my memory to this day. When young monastics engaged in heated debates about some scriptural passage, he would sit like an indulgent father and listen to the arguments with an amused expression. He did not write books and he did not sing. His classes and lectures were good but not memorable. What came across were his sincerity and holiness, not the brilliance of his ideas. All that said, his room had a different feel to it—that is where he read, prayed and meditated. Outside his room, few knew of the quiet, indrawn side of his personality. I found him participating in every activity in the monastery without drawing any attention to himself. It was easy to forget that he even existed. He stands out in my memory today as someone who had mastered the art of not standing out.
He left Mumbai in 1978 when he was appointed head of the Order’s Khetri center. Thereafter our paths crossed a few times in various places. I also got a chance to visit him in Khetri and Jaipur before I came to Boston. Sometime in late 2006 I heard that he had a heart-related condition and a bypass surgery was advised. He was opposed to the idea and everyone was trying to persuade him to have the procedure. I requested an opportunity to speak with him and was able to do so over the phone. I urged him to agree to the surgery and assured him that it was quite safe. His voice was kind but firm: “I don’t want my last moments to be with doctors and nurses around me. I want to be in the monastery.” No one could make him change his mind. He mused that he might even go to Hardwar to die, spending time on the bank of the sacred Ganga.
Some three or four months later he was gone. After dinner he chatted with the other monks one late evening in the monastery in Jaipur, then retired to his room and passed away peacefully in sleep. His going was as uneventful as pretty much everything else in his life.
Having known Swami Pujyananda and many others like him, I cannot but think that spiritual seekers who have the privilege of remaining mostly unknown make a significant but often unrecognized contribution to the greater good. As I write this, I see before my mind’s eye the monks I know who have spent almost the entirety of their lives working in the kitchen, in the garden or on a farm, in a hostel dorm or in a hospital ward, or doing daily worship in some of our remote monasteries. Hardly anyone knows them beyond the small circle of people they work with, but their service is as vital and consequential as the service of others with greater visibility and following.
I am thinking also of a considerably larger number of devotees, volunteers and lay members who serve and support their places of worship, quietly, with no expectations and as best they can, while working at their full-time jobs, raising their families, and taking care of a hundred other things. Spiritual life is a struggle—and the bravest among those who struggle are ones who do it silently and, in a phrase immortalized by Lincoln, “with malice toward none, with charity for all.”
Swamiji’s words come to mind: “As I grow older I find that I look more and more for greatness in little things.” He found true greatness in “the worm doing its duty silently, steadily, from moment to moment and from hour to hour” (CW 9. 418-19). There are many—a lot more than we are aware of—in our spiritual communities who fit that description. What else can we do other than bow down with reverence and gratitude to these unassuming, silent, steady soldiers on the spiritual path?