#Where has Hasina gone?

[votermood]

Gain insights into the main reasons behind the protests in Bangladesh as we delve into the socio-political factors fueling the unrest. Explore the grievances and frustrations that have led to the current wave of protests and their potential implications for the country.

[totheidiot]

just needed to vent real quick. i am so so fucking angry and sad and depressed and livid and outraged by the situation in bangladesh. i moved to the us in january and i have every single one of my friends there, at the moment, my dad and grandmother is also there. the protests have gotten so terrible, so many people literally died or got so heavily injured. just for fighting for their basic rights of getting equality for when they are applying for jobs. the protests were peaceful, just a large number of students in the dhaka university, just peacefully protesting. and then, the student's league showed up. it escalated so bad after that. right now. there is no overseas flights to anywhere. a total communication shutdown meaning there is no internet or mobile data. all you can do is call locally. the government is imposing a curfew and there is a shoot on sight order. news channels are not operating at the moment. do you know how dire the situation is now? 0 contact with the outside world, none at all. you can get shot just by being in the wrong place at the wrong time. i don't know if my dad, my grandmother, my friends are still alive, i don't know. i don't know what's going on. everyone i know, they could all be dead and i would have absolutely no clue. what if it's my own family, what if it's my best friend, what if they died and nobody can tell me because there is no internet and nobody can contact anyone overseas? what then? and the fucking motherfucker bitch ass prime minister is out here in spain. does she know how blood is on her hands? and she has the nerve to call the protesters the bengali equivalent of a nazi. a rajakar, traitors who killed, raped, tortured bengali people during the liberation war. i don't know, sheikh hasina. sounds to me that you are the true rajakar.

is anyone still alive? do i still have a father? do i no longer have any grandparents? have i lost a best friend for the second time? where have my friends gone? i don't know anymore, i really don't know.

[presencinglife]

Our love has a 3-Act Structure— we’ve got our opening image, that fateful inciting incident when we met, and you were the lock-in, a point of no return. The distance between us is like the All Is Lost moment, the marshland of Act 2, where dark forces rise, and my inner journey feels like wading through a swamp just to get to you.

You say we’re a work in progress, but what I see is a cosmic want— a love that’s there, even if it plays out on different timelines, in different frames. Some days, it feels like we’re characters caught in the tension, trapped between flashpoints, reversals that twist my heart like a plot twist. You know, the kind where the protagonist thinks he’s finally getting closer, but then, bam! Life goes ACR— Action, Conflict, Reversal, and we’re right back at Fade Out.

And I can’t help but wonder— are we destined for a meet-cute or a tragedy? Is this love a laugh track in the making, or are we the star-crossed heroes of a plot that’s gone a little too dark? It’s hard to know if we’re chasing a fake victory or the mid-point reversal that makes sense of everything.

You’re my lock-in, and I guess I’m yours, so we’ll ride out these story beats, until the tentpoles all line up and our ending is written in stars— because even when the denouement seems far off, I wonder if the punchline of this plot is one we’ll laugh about together, or one we’ll cry through in slow motion. Either way, I’d fight every scene, every cutaway and fade to black, just to make sure the closing image is you and me, credits rolling.

I thought one day we could work on a story together— didn’t know it wouldn’t be for a film, but our love story.

ultimate ships challenge - [1/5] the power of trust scenes

[tchallasbabymama]

M’Baku’s Love- Chapter 10 (Finale)

Thanks for bearing with me on this journey, it’s been a good one. Here’s the last chapter, I hope y’all like it! Normally I would post on M’Baku Mondays, but I just couldn’t wait to share this ending with the like 5 people who read my stories. 

Don’t forget to check out my masterlist HERE to read my other stories. M’Baku fans, don’t fret, I have another M’Baku fic starting next week...well its an M’Baku x OC x T’Challa fic. That’s right, we’re going for a throuple. Check out the preview HERE. As always, let me know what y’all think and if you want to be tagged in any of my other stories.

CW: smut

Word count: 10,630

Monae fiddled with JJ’s collar as they stood on the tarmac waiting for the Talon to touch down. He loved seeing Uncle Challa’s “spaceship” and they regularly got to see him off and welcome him back. This time would be a little different though since he would be bringing M’Baku to meet his son for the first time. Monae’s nerves were shot and she vibrated with anticipation.

As the ship came into view a lump caught in Monae’s throat. She was about to see him again for the first time in years...he was about to meet their son. She could still barely process the fact that he was alive and almost needed to see it to believe it, but he was just a few moments away.

The Talon floated closer and closer to the ground and her palms grew sweaty when it finally made contact. 

JJ jumped up and down as the doors opened and he saw Okoye and Ayo exit the craft. He immediately went to go hug his aunties as he waited for his favorite uncle to come out. Pretty soon he emerged, alone, and JJ ran to him and jumped in his arms.

“Uncle Challa!”

“Igorila encinci, I’ve missed you! Are you being good for your mama?”

“Yes!” T’Challa raised an eyebrow and looked back to Monae who was steadily creeping closer. She nodded with a smile and T’Challa started tickling JJ, making him let loose the boisterous laugh he no doubt got from his father. 

Monae’s eyes travelled to the open door behind T’Challa and he noticed, giving her a soft smile. “He needs a minute.”

She nodded and looked down, twiddling her thumbs when JJ’s voice brought her out of her daze.

“Uncle Challa, who’s that?” he looked over the king’s shoulder and saw a large man hesitantly stepping through the Talon door and into the light. T’Challa set JJ down and turned to look at Monae, but her eyes were already raining tears down her face.

“That is my friend, M’Baku. Why don’t you say hi?”

M’Baku walked down the ramp and met the king on the ground, unable to take his eyes off the little boy in front of him. He looked just like a miniature version of him with a head full of locs. The pictures didn’t do him justice. 

JJ waved at the stranger and introduced himself, “Hi! I’m Jabari, but everyone calls me JJ. What’s your name?”

M’Baku’s eyes grew misty as his child smiled up at him. He cleared his throat and got down on one knee so he could be eye-level with JJ.

“My name is M’Baku, and I am-” he cut himself off, as he looked up and made eye contact with a crying Monae behind T’Challa. The king moved out of the way and gave the little family some privacy, joining his Dora near the car and trying not to be nosy and watch too intently. Monae took a step forward and that was all the permission he needed. He stood from the ground, and just as he did she threw her arms around him, crying into his chest. His head rested on top of hers as he cried and rocked her from side to side. 

“Mommy? What’s wrong?” M’Baku wiped Monae’s tears before she turned to their son and squatted down to his height.

“JJ, baby...remember how mommy told you your daddy died before you were born?”

He nodded his head silently with his brows furrowed.

“Well I was wrong...and Uncle Challa was nice enough to bring him here to us,” she looked to M’Baku and smiled, but he couldn’t take his eyes off his son. 

“You’re my dad?”

“Yes, you can call me ‘baba’ if you like.”

“Baba? What’s that mean?”

“It means ‘father’ in my language.”

“What language is that?”

“Xhosa.”

“Oh, like Umalume Challa.”

M’Baku smiled up at Monae, “He knows Xhosa?”

“T’Challa taught him some, he’s pretty good. He’s even teaching me a little bit.”

“Yeah, she’s a fast learner like me!”

“That’s right,” she tickled his sides and his infectious laughter rang out again, the most beautiful song M’Baku had ever heard. When he came down from his tickle high his eyes settled back on M’Baku.

“So if you weren’t dead where were you?”

“I do not know…”

“Baby, you remember the other day when people started appearing out of nowhere?” he nodded again, “That’s what happened to your baba.” 

He still didn’t really understand just what actually happened with those people, but knowing his baba had been one of them and wasn’t dead or just gone for no reason eased his mind. 

Both adults stood and Monae grabbed JJ’s hand as they walked back towards T’Challa, who was trying really hard to not seem like he was eavesdropping. JJ reached up and grabbed M’Baku’s hand and all the adults present struggled to keep their composure.

--------

 Every time the Wakandans came to town, they stopped by Monae’s house for dinner at least once, so the group split in two as they got in their cars to drive to Monae’s. Monae could hardly speak, so she was thankful that JJ was full of questions on the ride home.

“So do I have grandparents?”

“Yes, and my mama would love to meet you.”

“How is Ada?”

“Shaken up...she was also one of the Dusted.”

“The Dusted?” JJ asked.

“Yes, that is what we Jabari call the people who disappeared and reappeared.”

“I thought your name was M’Baku, not Jabari.”

M’Baku chuckled.

“It is, but I come from the Jabari people. In fact, I am the-”

Monae cleared her throat and subtly shook her head.

“-I am...excited for you to meet them.”

“What are they like?”

M’Baku and JJ went back and forth the entire ride home as Monae drove in a daze, her brain still trying to process being so close to M’Baku again. The drive only took about ten minutes and as they pulled up to the house M’Baku’s eyes scanned the neighborhood, taking it all in. He saw the colonizers walking their dogs by the old drunks outside the corner store, and he noticed the expensive cookie cutter townhouses right next to the smaller, old homes that had been there for decades. This was definitely not the Nashville Monae had told him about.

M’Baku couldn't help but smile as they walked into her house and he felt the same warmth and openness he felt in her apartment all those years ago. Monae headed straight for the kitchen to check on the vegetable gumbo she had going in the slow cooker all day while JJ pulled M’Baku into the living room with everyone else. Monae watched with a smile as JJ talked his baba’s ear off and showed him around, pointing out the pictures on the wall. M’Baku’s eyes wandered over the photos, but he was distracted by a loud “meow” and a paw on his pants leg.

“Juju, old friend.” He reached down to pet her and she moved away from his hand, choosing instead to go back the way she came.

“Don’t be sad, she does that sometimes,” JJ comforted his dad, whose jaw was hanging open in disbelief until he heard the tinkling of a bell. Sure enough, Juju trotted back in and dropped her favorite feather toy at M’Baku’s feet. “Hey, she likes you!”

The three of them played together for a couple minutes, all the while M’Baku kept an eye on Monae slowly pacing back and forth in the kitchen. JJ chased Juju off through the house and M’Baku took the moment to try to talk to Monae while everyone was preoccupied setting the table and securing the perimeter of the house. 

Monae stirred the gumbo and tried her best to calm her nerves, but the butterflies in her stomach weren’t going away any time soon. They weren’t helped by the heat that crept up against her back as a large shadow loomed over her. She turned around to face him and he tipped her chin up.

“Is there anything I can do?”

“I...um, it’s already done.”

“You are nervous...why?”

“M’Baku,” she sighed, “I need you to understand that you died, or I thought you were dead. I mourned you. I buried you in my mind and visit on your deathiversary every year...but you crawled back out of that grave and it’s just hard for me to wrap my mind around.”

He nodded and placed a kiss on her forehead before moving back and giving her space. Monae cleared her throat and shook herself from her daze. She needed to get a handle on herself and fast.

“JJ, come wash your hands.”

The little boy came sprinting from the back room.

“No running inside,” Monae and T’Challa echoed each other and JJ slowed down, sheepishly walking the rest of the way to the stepstool at the kitchen sink. M’Baku helped him wash his hands as Monae filled their bowls with rice and gumbo. She grabbed a bottle of hot sauce from the counter and placed it in the middle of the table before sitting down at the head. 

“So, T, how’s Nakia?”

“She’s doing well. This pregnancy has been much easier on her than the first. In fact, she and the twins will be coming back with me next time.”

“Really?!” JJ was excited to see his play cousins, it had been months since the last time Hasina and Hasani visited. They were only a few months older than him, and the three of them were inseparable whenever they got together.

M’Baku sat back and watched their interactions, feeling slightly left out. He had missed so much of their lives. What was her pregnancy like? What were his first words? He just had to know. Right as he worked up the nerve to interrupt the ongoing conversation, JJ did it for him.

“Baba?” 

M’Baku was still so unused to hearing that name, however he already loved how it sounded. 

“Yes, JJ?”

“So what did it feel like when you got Dusted?”

Monae almost choked on her gumbo.

“JJ, let’s not-”

“I did not even know I had gone anywhere...it felt like no time had passed.”

“So you...you really think it’s been two months since we last saw each other?” Monae asked him.

“Yes, although I know now that is not the case,” he smiled at JJ who gave him a snaggletoothed smile right back. He turned to T’Challa, his face turning serious. “Thank you for looking after them, brother.”

“Any time, they are family. Isn’t that right igorila encinci?”

“Yes!”

Monae chuckled as she got up to bring out his favorite pineapple upside down cake she made late the night before. She disappeared into the kitchen as the others continued to talk amongst themselves.

“You call him ‘little gorilla’, eh?”

“Well yes, he is your son.”

“Do they call you the ‘Big Gorilla’ or something?”

“No, I am the Great Gorilla, ruler of the Jabari-”

“You’re a king, too?!”

“What?!” Monae yelled from the kitchen.

Okoye, Ayo, and T’Challa all made eye contact and decided it was a good time to leave.

“Well, we do not want to intrude so we will see you tomorrow,” Okoye rushed out.

“Monae, do you need any help cleaning up or anything before we leave?” Ayo added. 

“No thank you. Y’all get to the hotel safe, see you tomorrow.” She and JJ hugged the three of them and they took their leave. As soon as Monae closed the door behind them, JJ went right back to the previous conversation.

“So if you’re a king, that makes me a prince!”

“JJ, go upstairs and start getting ready for bed, I’ll be up soon.”

He sighed, but did what his mom told him, but before he made it all the way up the stairs he turned around and asked, “Is baba staying?”

Monae turned to look at M’Baku questioningly.

“If your mother will have me.”

“Please mommy!”

“No need for all that, I want him to stay too,” she laughed as her son ran back down the stairs to hug them both before going up to his room.

“So you want me to stay?”

Monae rolled her eyes. “You shouldn’t have told him he’s a prince, M’Baku.”

“Why not? He is a prince, he should know.”

The two of them cleared the table and loaded the dishwasher as they went back and forth.

“He’s too young, that’s why. I want him to have a normal life.”

“He is not a ‘normal’ boy, Monae, he is royalty. He is my heir.”

She knew he was right, but she just didn’t want to let go of the life she and JJ had that she knew now was about to  be turned on its head. She didn’t want to have the conversation that she knew they needed to have.

“Let’s put JJ to bed and then come back to this.”

M’Baku agreed and the two of them went upstairs to do just that. After JJ’s bath, M’Baku told him the story of how the Jabari found the mountains, and he was hanging on every word until sleep overtook him and he passed out around 8:30. 

Monae was almost moved to tears by their interaction, and she kept from sniffling as both adults crept out the room and back downstairs. She went straight to the wine rack and cracked open a merlot, pouring two generous glasses for the two of them. He grabbed her hand and led her to the couch, sitting down next to her and pulling her legs across his lap. She didn’t know what to do, her mind still hadn’t caught up with her body yet, but her body melted right into him.

“I know it has not been as long for me as it has for you...but I have missed you, Babygirl.”

M’Baku heard a sniffle and looked down at her as her body shook and tears escaped her eyes. He grabbed the wine glass from her and set both glasses on the coffee table in front of them before placing his arm around her and pulling her in tight. 

The next hour or so consisted of M’Baku consoling Monae as she released five years of grief she had been holding onto. After a while, she calmed down and they sat in silence before she tore herself away from his lap and took a deep breath. She looked into his eyes and he moved in for a kiss, but she pulled away at the last second. 

“So what now?” She asked and his eyebrows furrowed as she spoke. 

“What do you mean?”

“JJ...since he’s a prince and all.”

M’Baku took a sip of his previously untouched wine, prompting Monae to do the same. 

“He will need to come be with his people, Monae.”

“He has people here too, M’Baku. He has friends and a community here.”

“So what do you suggest?”

“Coparenting.”

“Coparenting?”

“Yes. I don’t want him to lose his home here or keep him from his home there...so lets let him have both.”

“I do not want you two halfway around the world-”

“And I don’t want him so far away from me, but parenthood involves sacrifice. Welcome to the club.”

“Then come with him.”

--------

“She is being unreasonable!” M’Baku sat on the couch in T’Challa’s office, complaining to the king and queen. He had stayed with Monae for only a weekend since he needed to get back to ruling his kingdom that was still restructuring after the return of the Dusted, but in that short time he was unable to convince her to let JJ live with his people. 

“I think she was being more than generous. I don’t even like when T’Challa takes the twins with him to America without me , I can’t imagine being without them for any longer than that.”

“Yes, but she could just move here! And at first she said we would split our time 50/50, now she wants to keep him during the school year and I get summers.”

“You’d prefer to disrupt the boy’s education?” the king chimed in.

“Oh please, we both know he would have a much better education here anyway.”

“True, but you’re asking Monae to uproot her whole life,” T’Challa added.

“M’Baku, you need to look at this like a parent, not like a chief. He’s just a little boy, he’s her little boy-”

“Our little boy.”

“For like five minutes. She’s been there for five years. She’s kissed his wounds and weathered temper tantrums. She pushed that boy out in the middle of her living room, she caught her own baby despite the fact that the midwife was right there. It’s just been the two of them since her aunt died...you can’t just expect her to give in so easily. You’re asking a lot of her.”

“Maybe if they both came to visit it would ease her mind a little,” T’Challa suggested.

“Could the two of you try to talk to her?”

“Absolutely not,” Nakia said as T’Challa shook his head.

“This is between the two of you, my friend.”

“Uncle Challa and Aunt Kiki are sitting this one out, sorry.” Nakia’s hands raised in surrender.

“Aunt Kiki?”

“I couldn’t let him be the only one with a nickname.”

M’Baku nodded as he mulled over their conversation in his head. He felt they were probably right, but he needed one more opinion.

When M’Baku made it back to Jabari land he went straight to his mother’s quarters to seek her advice. He found her in the middle of braiding her hair, and sat across from her as she worked.

“So how is my grandson? Did you bring me pictures?”

“Of course, mama,” he pulled up pictures of JJ on his beads, swiping through and smiling like a fool as he looked at his son. “He is well. He is so inquisitive and joyous...Monae has done a good job on her own.”

“Of course she has, I always liked that one.”

“I know,” M’Baku chuckled before his face fell.

“What is it?”

“It is Monae...she wants to coparent. She would have him during the school year and I would have him during their summer break.”

“That sounds pretty good to me.”

M’Baku sighed and hung his head.

“That is what the queen said.”

“Smart woman, our queen.”

“That she is...mama, I do not want to be apart from him so much, but Monae refuses to move here. I do not know what to do.”

“It sounds to me like you will be making a lot more trips to America then. She never said you could not see him, just that he stays in America with her. That does not have to exclude you.”

“I have duties here-”

“M’Baku we were gone for five years and the council ran things just fine, and before that you were gone for three months. I am not saying you should move there, just that your job is much more flexible than you realize.” 

Meanwhile, on the other side of Wakanda, the king decided to go back on his word just a little and texted Monae and asked her to call him when she had the chance. Later that night, his phone rang and he looked to see it was Monae calling. He checked to make sure he was alone in his quarters before answering. Thankfully, Nakia was down the hall putting the twins to bed while he worked on some last minute paperwork, or she’d have his head for this.

“Monae, I’m glad you called. How are you today?”

“I’d be much better if the city wasn’t breathing down our necks about this block party.”

“I’ll handle them, don’t worry about it.”

“Thanks T.”

“No problem.”

“So what’s up? It sounded important.”

“Yes, well, it is. I spent the earlier half of today listening to a certain chief bemoan his new custody arrangement.”

“You can’t talk me out of it. I don’t even want him gone during the summer, that was hard enough.”

“I wouldn’t dare. I would dare, however, to formally invite you to Wakanda. Come see it for yourself for a couple weeks, you might like it. If nothing else, it will ease your mind for when Jabari comes here by himself.”

“Me...come to Wakanda? What about my job?”

“Don’t worry about that, just worry about when you want to leave. We can have a jet there immediately if you wish.”

“Jazz is moving in on Saturday, how about next weekend?”

“Next weekend it is.”

“Can we keep this between us? I want to surprise him.”

T’Challa chuckled just as Nakia walked in the room, “It won’t be easy to keep from him.”

“Try your best.” She knew there was a good chance T’Challa would let it slip to M’Baku. Everyone knew the king was notoriously bad at keeping secrets.

He looked up and saw Nakia standing in front of him with her eyebrow raised and a hand on her hip, her belly protruding in her nightgown. He mouthed “Monae” and pointed to his phone. 

“You just couldn't help but meddle, eh?” She rolled her eyes.

“Is that Nakia? Hey Kiki girl, I miss you!” T’Challa moved the phone away from his ear before she blew his eardrums out. 

“Hey Nae! Is my husband meddling in your business?”

“Only a little, but it’s good. Thanks to him, I’ll be seeing you soon.”

“You're coming to Wakanda?! Oh thank Bast, now I don’t have to hear M’Baku-”

“It’s just for a couple weeks, sis,” Monae chuckled as Nakia deflated.

“Well that’s better than nothing.”

“Keep it between us though.”

“So you tell him?” Nakia laughed as her husband looked at her in faux offense. 

“It was his idea!” The ladies continued to laugh and talk as T’Challa’s grimace grew.

“Ok, well I know it’s late there, so see y'all in a couple weeks?”

“We’ll be here,” They ended the call and T’Challa looked to the queen, shrugging.

“I couldn’t help myself.”

Nakia laughed and crawled in bed next to her husband, both of them swiftly falling asleep after a long day of ruling a whole country. 

--------

JJ was super excited to ride in the Talon, never having seen the inside before, and even though Monae worked around Wakandan technology, she was just as much in awe of the futuristic aircraft as her son. Okoye made sure they were comfortable on their trip, but Monae’s anxiety almost got the best of her. There were times when she almost started hyperventilating, but then JJ’s bright smiling face brought her back out of it. She was leaving the country for the first time in her life and flying in a human spaceship to a formerly hidden African country with technology way more advanced than the rest of the world. If someone had told her ten years ago that this would be her life, she would’ve laughed in their face, yet here she was.

When Okoye called them to the front of the ship to watch them enter the dome, Monae’s heart almost beat out of her chest as they glided through the trees and into Wakanda. The city she saw before her blew her away, it was bigger and more beautiful than New York or Tokyo or any of those other big cities she’d seen or read about. The real life afrofuturism stunned her to silence, and it was only broken when JJ noticed the people waiting for them to land.

“Look, it’s Uncle Challa and Auntie Kiki and Auntie Shuri and Uncle Daka and Hasina and Hasani. Where’s baba? And who's that?”

“Baba isn't here, baby. We’re here to surprise him...and I think that’s T’Challa and Shuri’s mom.”

When the ship touched down and the doors opened, JJ ran out and tackled his play family in hugs and kisses. Monae carefully made her way down the stairs and joined the group, giving hugs all around.

“Long time no see, Nae!” The prince 

“How’s Oakland treating you?”

“Much worse now that I have left,” Shuri interjected, making N’Jadaka roll his eyes and mush her face. “Hey!”

“Oakland’s great, running just like before. You should come visit.”

“Only if you visit the Nashville Center.”

“Deal.”

Monae turned to see JJ walk up the one person there she didn’t know.

“Are you Uncle Challa and Auntie Shuri’s mom?”

Queen Mother chuckled and bent down closer to his level, “That I am. And you must be Jabari.”

“Or JJ!”

“Nice to meet you, JJ. My name is Ramonda.”

“Can I call you Auntie too?”

“Of course, you wouldn’t be the first,” she winked at the older prince and he smirked back. 

“Monae, dear, I’ve heard so much about you. All good things, of course. How are you?”

“Honestly, Queen Mother, I’m a little nervous to be here.”

“Trust me, you will love Wakanda. And you are family, call me Auntie.”

The group relocated to the domestic wing of the palace as the kids ran ahead and Queen Mother chatted with Monae. T’Challa showed them to their rooms, and allowed them time to get settled in before dinner in an hour.

Monae was nervous, she knew she would see M’Baku at dinner, and since T’Challa has a flair for the dramatic he had planned for her to get there a little late and make an entrance. Well, not a huge entrance, since it would be a small family dinner, but still. She fixed the collar on JJ’s shirt and then smoothed out the front of her purple dress that contrasted beautifully with her pink fade. She took a final breath before reaching for the door handle and being led down the hallway by the palace guards. They arrived at the double doors and Monae froze.

“Mommy?”

“Y-yes baby?”

“Are you ok?”

“I’m just a little nervous, that’s all.”

“Don’t be nervous, it’s just baba.”

His words echoed in her head as she thought back to their time together. It’s just M’Baku, she thought to herself before taking one last breath and opening the doors.

When M’Baku arrived he was confused to see the two extra place settings, and as the food was brought out his confusion only grew. When the doors opened and his eyes met Monae’s he felt his heart drop into his stomach. JJ ran to him and threw his arms around his neck and gave him a kiss on the cheek.

“Hi baba!”

“Hello,” M’Baku chuckled. “What are you two doing here?” He got up and went over to Monae, enclosing her in a hug.

“Someone had the idea that I should surprise you and come see Wakanda for myself. Maybe that way I’ll be less nervous about him coming out here.” Monae took in his traditional attire and tried not to make her infatuation so obvious, but she failed. He looked damn good in his chief furs.

“How long are you here for?”

“Just two weeks.”

“That is all the time I need.”

“For what?”

“To convince you to stay,” he winked and walked her to her seat, pulling it out for her as she fussed at him.

“I never said I was staying, I said we’re here to visit.”

“Tomato, potato,” M’Baku said as Monae almost spit out her drink and half of the table fell out in laughter. 

“I think you mean ‘tomayto, tomahto’ my G,” N’Jadaka corrected him with tears in his eyes from laughing so hard.

Monae grabbed M’Baku’s hand and squeezed it before he brought it to his lips for a kiss. She allowed it since she was slowly getting used to him again and he couldn’t be happier.

“So, Monae, how do you like your rooms?”

“They’re so nice! Mine alone is the size of my first floor at home, add in JJ’s and we have the whole house.”

“Wait until you sleep on the bed-”

“Wait, are you not staying with me?”

“Well I didn’t want to assume…”

“You two will always have a place with me. I can have your things moved while we eat, unless you would rather stay here.

Monae was apprehensive about the cold, but she had to remind herself why she was here. Everything was for JJ.

“Ok, we’ll stay with you.”

“Yay!” JJ cheered as a huge gap toothed smile appeared on M’Baku’s face.

--------

“I can’t believe you did this…”

Monae looked around JJ’s room and almost shed a tear. 

“I had it set up as soon as I learned I had a child. We can personalize it and change it however he wants, I have interior decorators lined up-”

“M’Baku, it’s perfect. I mean, look at him...look how happy he looks.”

JJ picked up a pretend sword and M’Baku beamed at the future warrior. Monae playfully rolled her eyes as they watched him play-fight with an imaginary assailant. 

“I will have to teach him how to fight for real one day, you know?”

Monae sighed, reminding herself yet again that this was all for JJ. “I know.”

“But you do not like it?”

“No, I don’t like the idea of my son running into battle,” Monae snipped before taking a second and centering herself. “I’m sorry, I’m just...I’m trying, ok?”

“I know. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome...so my room?”

“Yes, right next door here.”

He showed her the room and the view from her window stunned her speechless. She could see all of Wakanda.

“This view…”

“The best in all of Wakanda.”

She felt him close behind her and turned around, coming face to face with the Jabari chief.

“Better than yours?”

“No,” he smirked. “Let me show you.”

They checked in on JJ, who had already curled up with a storybook ready for bedtime.

M’Baku read to his son as his eyelids fell and he eventually drifted off to dreamland. The two adults snuck out of the room quietly and closed the door behind them, saying good night to the guards, before walking just a few doors down and entering the largest room Monae had ever seen. It sat on the corner of the palace, with a large balcony swooping around the side, looking out onto all of Wakanda. She could see even more of the beautiful country and maybe even past it to neighboring countries as well. 

“This is...wow.” 

“Sometimes I cannot believe it myself. Can I get you anything? Water, whiskey, tea?”

“Tea would be great actually,” she sat down on the couch as her eyes continued to wander around the space before they landed on his bookshelf.

“See anything you recognize?”

She got up to take a closer look and saw the books she gave him all those years ago, and a shy smile took over her face. She continued to browse his space, much like he did the first time she brought him to her place five years ago. 

“Is this you? You look just like him!” Monae stopped on a picture of a young M’Baku with his parents. JJ held a striking resemblance to young M’Baku just like how older M’Baku looked just like his father in the picture. “The Jabari must have strong genes...I thought my family all looked alike, y’all are something else. Let me guess, you look like your granddaddy, too?”

“I do, actually,” he chuckled as he handed her a cup of jasmine tea. “Have a seat, make yourself comfortable.” M’Baku disappeared into what Monae assumed was a closet and reemerged in a brown hoodie and sweatpants.

She kicked off her shoes and tucked her legs under her as she sat on the couch, sipping her tea.

“So…” she started.

“So?”

“So, I guess we should talk about JJ.”

“JJ is fine for now, let us talk about something else. Like why you are so nervous around me.”

“I’m not nervous-” he cut her off with a look. “Ok, fine, I’m nervous, but I don’t know why.”

“Monae,” he turned her jaw towards him so they could look into each other’s eyes, “I know this is hard for you, I do. And I am not asking for you to completely uproot your life for me, but I want to be with you again...even if we have to make it work across the world.”

“M’Baku, I-” her head dropped.

“Do not have to make a decision right now.”

“It’s not that, it’s just…”

“Is there someone else?”

“Wh- no! I barely have time for myself, much less anyone else. I mean, I’ve gone on dates, had a few hookups-”

“Please, spare me the details.”

“Right, sorry,” she cleared her throat. “Don’t you have some royal suitors lined up or something?”

He chuckled, “I did, until I met you. They had been trying to find a chieftess for me for years.”

“Chieftess?”

“Yes, my wife would be my chieftess.”

“And if we get back together…?”

“I told you I could give you a kingdom, Monae.”

She hadn’t noticed he’d moved closer until she felt his breath on her cheek. She turned to meet his face and their lips connected, making fireworks shoot all over Monae’s body. She pulled back and looked at him before she straddled his body and dove back in for more. Their tongues danced against each other as the kiss turned passionate and his hands explored her body. He let out a moan as his hands gripped her ass that had gotten bigger over time. Her waist was thicker and her breasts hung a little lower, and he loved every inch of her. She grinded into his lap as she sucked on his bottom lip and he let out another moan that sounded closer to a growl before pulling back.

“If you want me to stop-”

“Don’t stop.”

A fire burned behind his eyes as she pulled her dress over her head, revealing her body to him. His fingers traced over the stretch marks on her stomach and she shivered at his touch as his eyes raked up and down her naked form. When she wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him again, he stood with her in his hands and walked her to the bed, lightly placing her down in the middle.

“I have missed you so much Babygirl,” he said between kisses as she squeezed her legs tighter around him. She could feel his  dick hardening between his legs as she opened her legs wider to let him in. 

He kissed down her body until he reached her center, his lips ghosting over hers as he thanked Hanuman for bringing this woman back into his life before digging in like it was his last meal. Monae writhed on the bed as his tongue alternated between exploring her insides and licking her clit into submission. When his lips closed around her as he sloppily tongue kissed her entire pussy, she let out a deep moan that overwhelmed her emotionally and tears sprang from her eyes.

“Cum in my mouth.”

“Mm, yes.” her tears continued to pour out of her eyes as her body shook and tensed up before releasing a deluge onto his tongue. He didn’t stop either, he kept pushing her to her breaking point over and over again until he finally got tired and kissed his way back up her body.

“Are you ok?” he asked as he wiped her tears away.

“I’m ok,” she nodded.

“You are crying more than usual.”

“I just really missed you. It’s hard to explain how all this feels and the feelings are overwhelming as fuck...but I know I want this. I know I want you.”

He pecked her lips.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

“Monae, I am not just talking about sex-”

Her hands cupped his face and she pulled him into her so their foreheads rested against each other. “Neither am I.”

His thumb traced her bottom lip as he stared into her big brown eyes. Her hand made its way down his body and rested between his legs, rubbing along his thick, juicy dick that she missed oh so much. She grabbed the head and rubbed her thumb over his tip before running her fingernails up the leg of his sweatpants. She caught the bottom of his sweatshirt and pulled it up, prompting him to break their kiss and pull the hoodie over his head. His pants went next and she was met with the sight of his beautiful naked body.

He came back in for a kiss and she pulled his body over hers, opening herself to him again. He rested his forearm on the pillow next to her head and his other hand found its home under her knee, pulling her leg back even more as he leaned in to kiss her deeply.

“I love you,” he whispered in her ear as he slowly pushed inside her, working his way in one inch at a time then pulling out and pushing in deeper with each thrust. Her relatively short nails marked up his back as he filled her in a way she hadn’t been filled in years. She felt emotions swirl in her chest and escape from her eyes and he kissed her tears away one by one.

Once he was fully seated inside her he stilled to compose himself, allowing her to feel all of him inside her. Her pussy squeezed him tight and she grinded up into him.

“Move, baby.”

His hips pulled back before rolling forward, pushing deep into her wetness as she cried out to the heavens. Every thrust brought their already intertwined bodies closer together and he looked down at her with love in his eyes as he played her body like a drum. Monae couldn’t handle all the feelings and eventually they boiled over and she snapped, cumming all over him and rolling them over so that she was on top. Her hips worked him like it was her job, and her hands clawed at his shoulders. She corkscrewed her hips as she leaned her body back away from him, exposing her breasts for him to play with. And that he did, taking them into his mouth and teasing her pebbled buds before covering her entire neck and chest in kisses and light nibbles as she got up on her tiptoes and pounded her hips down onto his pelvis. 

She felt the pressure rising in her lower abdomen and circled her hips, dragging her clit along his body and letting out a moan from deep within her soul as the pressure released. 

“Let me see that arch in your back,” he said with a slap to her asscheek. Monae hopped up and kneeled down next to him before leaning forward and dropping her top half to the bed, leaving her voluptuous ass in the air for him to do as he pleased.

“Good girl.” He came up behind her and entered her in one swift motion, grabbing her hips and thrusting into her with rhythmic abandon. 

“Yes! Yes!” was all she could say as she gripped the sheets in front of her and did her best to hold her ass up for him. He could tell she was struggling, so his hands came up under her hips and lifted them for her, making sure he got the correct angle to hit her spot. His grunts of passion mixed with her high pitched moans as he tore her apart to create a symphony in the large room, their voices echoing off the walls and out into the mountains. 

His hands slipped and her body slid to the bed, prompting him to lean over her body and pull her neck back for a sloppy kiss, tongues meeting each other before their lips did. He used his other hand to grip her ass tight after slapping it. 

“I feel you getting ready to cum again,” he whispered in her ear, “I am right there with you, Babygirl. Just tell me where you want it.”

“I-inside me. Please, Daddy.”

He flipped her over and plunged back inside, kissing her deeply as he dug into her. Monae’s nails found the same indents as before as he gave her all he had to give. Their foreheads connected as her walls contracted around him and his strokes faltered. 

“M’Baku!” she cried out as she exploded all over him again, kicking his orgasm into gear as he stared deep into her eyes and emptied himself into her. The two of them fought to catch their breath as they untangled and laid next to each other. As they came down she was finally able to find the words she had buried for so long.

“M’Baku?”

“Hm?” He turned to look at her with his arm folded behind his head and she curled up at his side.

“I love you too.”

He chuckled and kissed her nose, “I know, Babygirl.”

--------

The next day, M’Baku showed his family around to the other tribes, but of course he saved the best for last. The Jabari people welcomed Monae and JJ with open arms and a week later, they held a celebration in honor of the little prince. He loved the attention, but mostly he just liked getting to play with his Panther tribe cousins and the other Jabari kids. Several elders came up to Monae to ask questions about marriage, all of which she managed to dance around like an expert, but the questions about JJ’s crowning were a little harder for her to dodge. She had hoped they would be able to put it off some, but it didn’t seem as though the elders were too keen on waiting. After the feast was over and the two parents put JJ to bed, Monae finally spoke up.

“So...the elders…”

“Yes, they seem to like you

“Oh I know they like me, each one of them asked me at least twice when I’m marrying you.”

“When are you marrying me?”

 “M’Baku I-”

“No I am serious, Monae,” he cooed as he walked towards her. “Stay with me.”

“I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“I just can’t.”

“That is not a good enough reason.”

“I have Jazz, and my job, and my friends.”

He grabbed her hands in his.

“Monae, Nakia did your job at the Oakland Center while living in Wakanda part time...travelling to see Jazz and your friends, or bringing them here even, would not be a problem. You are best friends with the king and queen, not to mention you yourself would be a chieftess...these problems are easily fixed, my love.”

Monae removed her hands from his and walked to the balcony, pulling the collar of her fur coat up to shield her from the elements. He followed after her and wrapped his arms around her waist, resting his head on hers. 

“M’Baku, I’m not saying no...I’m saying I can’t just up and follow a man I was with for just two months to the other side of the world because he magically reappears in my life.”

“I am not just some man, Monae,” he turned her around to look at him, “I am Lord M’Baku the Great Gorilla, Chief of the Jabari. I am the father of your son. I am the man that you fell madly in love with in just two months. I do not want you to follow me, I want you to be with me...even on the other side of the world, if that is where your heart desires to be.”

“What would I even do here?” she asked, barely above a whisper.

“You could teach dance classes, or plan events, or whatever else might play to your skillset. You can even do nothing for the rest of your life if you want to-”

He was cut off by a nigga please glare from Monae.

“So basically, I can do whatever I want.”

“Yes.”

“And JJ? What will he do?”

“He will do everything Jabari children do. He will go to school, learn to fight, and when he is in his teens I will start preparing him to take over one day.”

“Teens?! Isn’t that too young still?”

“He will not be in charge then, think of it more as an apprenticeship.”

“Ok...this is a lot to take in, M’Baku. I’ll talk to JJ and see what he thinks.”

“But he is just a child.”

“And as his mom I want him to know that even though I have the final say, his voice gets to be heard.”

“You are a good mother.”

A tear came to her eye and she looked down, “Thank you.”

“If I absolutely had to accidentally abandon a child with anybody, I am glad it was you.”

They broke into laughter and he kissed her forehead.

“We will figure it out.”

The two of them fell asleep in each other’s arms, and when the next morning came Monae decided breakfast would be as good a time as any to gauge JJ’s reaction to their possible move.

M’Baku flipped the pancakes on the griddle as Monae sat at the table with JJ, both coloring away in his Blue’s Clues coloring book. They were so engrossed in their artwork that they barely even noticed him set the food down in front of them until he cleared his throat. They both looked at him and gave a sheepish grin, making M’Baku wonder how JJ could look so much like him yet so much like his mother at the same time. 

Monae made JJ’s plate and cut up his pancakes for him before digging into her own. The pancakes melted in her mouth and the eggs were perfect fluffy clouds. She had forgotten how good he was in the kitchen. “Mmm this is delicious.”

“Baba, you can really cook. You’re as good as mommy!”

The adults chuckled as M’Baku sat down and dug in, enjoying the fruits of his labor. After a few minutes of just scraping utensils silling the silence, Monae cleared her throat.

“So...JJ. How do you like it here?”

“It’s really cold, but it’s fun. I like the snowball fights.”

“You are very good at them,” M’Baku added.

“You are. So do you like it more than home?”

“No they’re both good, especially with Auntie Jazz there now.”

Monae had hoped for a clear cut answer, but it didn’t seem like she’d be getting one.

“Well what do you like about both places?” she asked.

“Here there’s baba and umakhulu and Hasani and Hasina and my aunts and uncles and rhinos and snow. Auntie Jazz is at home though, and so are my friends and Juju and the Center.”

Monae contemplated his words, still not coming to a concrete solution.

“JJ, how about you help me clean up the kitchen?” M’Baku asked after noticing the perplexed look stuck on Monae’s face.

“Ok!” JJ hopped down from his chair as M’Baku collected the plates from the table and brought them to the sink. Monae watched how the two of them interacted while they washed and dried the dishes. JJ and M’Baku had grown close in the time they had spent in Jabari land. She loved watching them laugh and goof off together, and every time she watched him read JJ a story at night, her heart felt full. When they finished washing dishes M’Baku sat back down at the table with Monae and grabbed her hand, bringing it to his lips for a kiss.

“Did that help with your decision making?”

“Not at all, he’s so diplomatic.” she groaned and put her head against the table.

M’Baku stifled a smile as he rubbed her back.

“Mommy, what’s wrong?”

“Just a little headache, baby.”

“JJ, what do you say I take you to a gorilla nest?”

Monae’s head popped up immediately, “Is that safe?!”

“Yes, the ones we will visit are used to being around humans.”

“I don’t know, M’Baku-”

“Come with us, it will ease your mind.”

Monae took a deep breath then nodded before the kimoyo beads she had been gifted upon arrival started to make noise. “It’s Jazz, I’m gonna take this in my room.” 

He nodded, knowing she needed to talk things out with her sister before she could make a decision. 

When Monae made it to her room, she answered the call and Jazz’s voice filled the room.

“Heyyyyyy!”

“Why are you awake? It’s like midnight.”

“You know I’m a night owl. So what’s up? Your text sounded like you were freaking out.”

“I am freaking out.”

“Why? The sex not as good as you remember or something?”

“No it’s definitely not that...he wants us to stay.”

“Ok...and the problem is?”

“My life is in Nashville, you’re there, my job is there, my friends are there. JJ’s friends are there.”

“He’ll make new friends. And didn’t you tell me you worked with the queen? In Oakland...on the other side of the world from her kingdom...that she ruled...while working in Oakland?”

“Ugh yes, you sound like M’Baku.”

“You got a smart babydaddy. One that I’m sure wouldn’t mind me coming to visit. It’ll be just like when I was at NYU.”

“I know, but you just moved in and now I’m abandoning you-”

“Sis, you’re not abandoning me. I. Will. Be. Fine.”

Monae took a deep breath.

“So what’s with all the excuses?”

“Huh?”

“You heard me. Why all the excuses, Nae?”

“I just want to do what’s right for JJ, but I don’t know what that is. He likes both places equally. I don’t want to uproot him, but I also don’t want to keep him from M’Baku and his side of the family.”

“All I’m hearing is that you’re too scared to make the decision you want to make. Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why are you hiding behind JJ as an excuse knowing damn well he’s going to be more than fine wherever y’all go?”

“I...damn. You’re right.” Monae had exhausted all her excuses and felt defeated. She really was the only thing standing in their way. 

“Duh, so what are you gonna do about it?”

--------

The night before their departure, M’Baku and Monae did their usual routine of getting JJ ready for bed then retiring to his quarters for tea or something stronger. 

This time was a little different though, despite the red wine poured into two glasses. Monae was usually much more talkative, but this time she seemed to be in another world.

“Is everything ok, my love?”

“Hm? Oh yeah, just thinking.”

“About what?”

“About a lot of things, really. About JJ, work, my future...us.”

“What about us?”

“I know that being with you, I'd have certain responsibilities,” she paused as M’Baku nodded. “Like what?”

“Well I am not entirely sure. We are restructuring the way we run things here. I was gone for five years and the council had no problems stepping in and ruling in my absence. The flexibility will allow me to come to America more often to visit...I don’t think I can handle just seeing him for a couple months a year, but I can come to you.”

“Isn’t that against tradition?”

“Yes, but so is having a child out of wedlock and I do not see anyone complaining about that. In fact, the people love JJ...and you,” he grabbed her hand in his and intertwined their fingers.

“I’ve noticed,” Monae deadpanned, thinking back to all the questions about marriage the council threw her way. M’Baku chuckled as he read the frustration on her face.

“Tradition got thrown out the window as soon as the aliens arrived.”

“I bet,” Monae laughed before her face turned serious. “What was it like fighting aliens?”

“Terrifying. Nothing could have prepared me for what I saw that day in battle,” he kissed her hand, “but the whole time I was praying to Hanuman that I could see your face again. When T’Challa told me how much time had passed, I was heartbroken. I just knew you had found somebody else...when you told me I had a son, my whole world changed. Now I have to raise my little boy in a world with terrifying aliens that I don’t understand and cannot explain to him.”

“I still can’t explain The Snap to him, maybe when he’s older I’ll have the words, but as for now I don't even understand it enough to answer him. He asked me the other day if you would get Dusted again...he’s worried about losing you and I can’t give him an answer because I’m worried about the same thing.”

“Is that what all this is about? Your hesitance?”

Monae burst into tears and he wrapped his arm around her, pulling her in closer.

“It-it’s just that it could happen again at any moment. What if you’re gone for another five years? What if you never come back if there’s a next time?”

“Monae, it is over. The Titan is dead, the stones are gone, the gauntlet is gone...there will be no more Snaps. I cannot promise that something else equally preposterous will not happen instead, but that worry is gone now.”

She crawled into his lap and curled up into a ball as he stroked her back.

“So...no more aliens?”

“I cannot promise that...just no more Snaps.”

She nodded and rested her head in the crook of his neck, breathing him in and relaxing more with each inhale of his scent. 

She let out a sigh.

“Is something wrong, my love?”

“I just remembered we leave tomorrow.”

“Yes, I have been trying not to think about it.”

“I’ll miss you.”

“You don’t have to.”

“I know...but I won’t miss you long.”

M’Baku deflated.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean,” she sat up and looked him in his sad eyes, “that it’s not fair for JJ to bounce between us. He needs a home that’s not split in half, and there’s more for him here than back in Nashville.”

“You are saying-”

“That we’re gonna go home tomorrow, pack our things, then come back in a week.”

A slow smile spread across M’Baku’s face as a tear came to his eye. Monae wiped it away as he kissed her all over her face before pulling back and staring into her eyes.

“I know you are coming back for JJ’s sake, but what does this mean for us?”

“It means that although JJ comes first, and is the main reason for this move...I can’t say that being closer to you had nothing to do with it. I’ve been alone for five years, I don’t want to be without you again.”

“I am sorry that I left you, Monae.”

“You had no choice, don’t be sorry.”

“I just hate that I missed out on so much. Pictures aren’t enough.”

“You’re here now. Yes you missed his birth and his first steps, but you’ll teach him how to shave and how to be a Jabari warrior. There will still be plenty of wounds to kiss and make better, baby. Plenty more ‘firsts’.”

“Mm. Would you ever consider having another child?”

“My answer used to be ‘hell no’, but that was before you came back. I could consider it...I think JJ would make a great big brother...maybe in another year or two?”

M’Baku’s smile was wider than ever and his eyes twinkled in the light as he looked at her, studying her features. Her big doe eyes always gave her emotions away, even behind her thick tortoiseshell frames. She had laid her heart out on the table for him and he almost couldn’t believe how quickly she seemed to change her mind. He wasn’t sure exactly how their conversation went, but he knew he had Jazz to thank for this. 

“That sounds perfect.”

The two of them stayed up all night discussing their future, emptying the bottle of wine around midnight, and falling asleep on the couch shortly after. The next morning, Monae was awakened by the sound of JJ knocking on the door. She opened her eyes to see they had somehow made it to the bed and smiled picturing him carrying her while she slept peacefully in his arms. M’Baku stirred next to her and stretched as she got up to answer the door.

“What’s up baby?” she asked him, still groggy and voice cracking as she adjusted M’Baku’s t-shirt she was sleeping in...that she also did not have on when she fell asleep.

“I’m hungry, it’s late.”

Monae looked at the time and her eyes nearly bugged out of her head, “How is it already 10:30?!”

M’Baku made breakfast again while Monae rushed to get herself and their son ready for their trip. When JJ started folding his clothes to pack in his suitcase, Monae stopped him, having forgotten that he didn’t know the plan yet. She noticed he was moving slow and looked a little sad.

“What’s wrong, baby?”

“I’m gonna miss it here.”

“You like being with your baba?”

He sniffled and a tear rolled down his cheek. It was at that moment that she knew she had made the right decision. 

“JJ...honey...mommy and baba have something to tell you,” she looked to M’Baku right as he walked in the door, filling the entire frame with his body. He sat on the bed on the other side of JJ and pulled him into his lap while Monae grabbed his little hands in hers.

“What is it?” he sniffled again as M’Baku wiped his tears.

“We’re going home today, but we’re coming back...we’re gonna move here to be with baba.”

JJ’s face lit up and he stopped crying. “Really?!”

“Yes, really,” M’Baku chuckled as he tickled his son, making his infectious laughter ring out once again.

“But what about Auntie Jazz?”

“It’ll be just like before, we can go visit her or she can come visit here.”

“But I thought you didn’t like the cold?”

Monae sighed as M’Baku stifled a laugh. “I don’t, but a Jabari man stole my heart and we made a little Jabari that belongs in the mountains with his people. I’ll adjust.”

“So...we’re really moving?” The hopeful look on his face made both his parents smile.

“Yes,” she laughed, “we’re really moving.”

“I have to tell Hasina and Hasani!” he jetted off to find his beads. They were programmed without most of the normal features so that he and his cousins could talk anytime they wanted to, and sure enough he immediately spilled the beans to the twins despite the fact that they would be seeing each other in an hour’s time. As they chatted, Monae and M’Baku grabbed the few things they would actually need for the week they would be gone and in no time flat, they were ready to go.

“Is that everything?” M’Baku asked as the family of three travelled to the small jet that would take them down to the palace. It was a gloomy, overcast day and the two parents tried to not let it affect their moods as JJ said goodbye to his grandma. Neither wanted to say goodbye, even though they both knew it was temporary. Any time apart felt like a lifetime.

“I think so, but we’ll be back so it’s fine.”

“I love hearing you say that,” he leaned in and kissed her.

They arrived at the palace and they were greeted by the royal family again, minus N’Jadaka who had gone back to Oakland a few days ago. 

The cousins immediately gravitated towards each other and started chatting away as the adults did the same.

“We heard from a couple little birdies that you’re moving here. What changed?” Nakia asked.

“I had to be sure...but I’m sure now.”

“Well dear, it seems you have made the right choice,” Ramonda motioned behind them and the two of them turned around to see the three kids play fighting. “I know M’Baku must be happier than a hippo in the Nile.”

“He is,” she beamed, “and honestly I am too. I was scared, but it’s like as soon as I said ‘I’ll stay’ my worries just disappeared. I knew it was the right thing to do.”

M’Baku, Shuri, and T’Challa joined them and the two men put their arms around their loves.

“Are you ready?” M’Baku whispered to her.

“Yes,” she giggled at his breath tickling her ear.

“Enough of that, she’ll be back in a week,” Shuri playfully ribbed them and everyone laughed.

“But that is so long-“

“Five years, M’Baku.”

He conceded with a kiss and the group meandered towards the jet where Okoye and Ayo already awaited them.

Monae and JJ turned and said their goodbyes, leaving M’Baku for last.

He knelt down to JJ’s level and pulled something from his pocket before placing it around JJ’s neck. It was a wood bead necklace with a small hand-carved  gorilla pendant.

“It’s just like yours!”

“That is right, igorila encinci.” 

JJ threw his arms around M’Baku’s neck and M’Baku hugged him tight. 

“I love you, baba.”

“I love you too, Jabari.” he held him close and a tear almost came to his eye at hearing those words for the very first time. 

“Do you love mommy?”

Both parents smiled as M’Baku stood to his full height, carrying a giggling JJ with him. 

“I love you and your mommy more than anything else in this world,” he said, looking into her eyes. He leaned in for a chaste kiss and she obliged, making JJ giggle at their display before Monae reached out and started tickling him, really giving him something to laugh about.

“We’ll see you in a week?”

“I will be here,” he kissed both of their foreheads before they walked up the stairs and onto the ship. 

T’Challa and Shuri came up on either side of M’Baku as he waved at them before the Talon shimmered out of view as it went through the dome. He let out a sigh and everyone could see the dopey smile lingering on his face.

“Someone’s happy,” Shuri nudged him in his side and it broke him from his daze.

“Very.” He turned to the king, “Thank you.”

“For the ship? It is no problem, really-”

“No, for sending me to Oakland. I hated the idea of going, but I never would have met Monae otherwise...so thank you for not letting me talk you out of it.”

“You were never going to talk me out of it...but you’re welcome.”

T’Challa clapped M’Baku on the shoulder as he turned to go inside with the rest of the family.

“You coming?” Shuri asked M’Baku.

“In just a moment.”

She nodded and followed behind her brother, leaving M’Baku alone, staring up at the sky.

“Hanuman, Ancestors,” he started, “thank you for blessing me with the air in my lungs and the blood in my veins. Thank you for allowing me to be in my child’s life. Thank you for leading me to Monae, and thank you for her choosing me over Damon. I have no words to express the depths of my gratitude, thank you just does not seem like enough...but that is all I have right now, so thank you, thank you, thank you. Please, keep them safe on this journey and bring them back to me.”

Just then, the clouds moved out of the way and the sun poked through for the first time all day.

“Glory to Hanuman,” M’Baku praised before he turned and walked back into the palace with a huge, goofy smile on his face, content in knowing his family would return to him soon.

The end.  

Taglist: @devnicolee, @maddeningmayhem, @theblulife

[asifzschool]

The Minority Rights Monopoly of a Hindutva Nation

The game From seventy years, it has been the favorite game of Hindutva. The greatest monopoly in this world - that is called minority rights.

There is a traffic stop here. The signal is red. Unless you are a minority, you will never know how does it feel. You can not put yourself in the shoes of a minority, if you are a majority. For me, being a minority is an everyday thing. I struggle with my religious identity all the time. I face questions, I reply them, and I get into arguments. In this world of Islamophobia, my faith is put on trial every day. I know perfectly well that nobody wants to become a minority. If I were a Hindu, I would be grateful for it. I wish I were a Hindu! I wish I were a Christian! A Buddhist, a Taoist - anything at all but a Muslim! If I were something else, I would be free. I wouldn't have this ordeal. I wouldn't have to go through things I now fight with for being a Muslim. And I know the ways around that word, minority. There are too many ways to use this word, to abuse it and exploit it. It is a legit word. In all context and circumstances, a minority is a minority. It means that there is a group of people who do not posses the same privileges as their majority counterpart. And the world is always against them. In our subcontinent that exists down the Himalayas, we have been majorities and minorities from hundreds of years. From the last seventy years, it has become a game. Instead of cards, dice, deeds, game cash and tokens, we have people here. Real people. Mostly, we play it through riots.

We don't purchase properties. We plunder them. We confiscate properties left behind by our enemies. During riots, we forcibly take them away. We take over controls. We take things that did not belong to us, had it not been for a religious bloodshed.

This is the reality of Indian subcontinent. The game is our destiny. All of us, Hindus and Muslims. Our ancestors played it. They rolled the dice. They kept playing, until the last day of their existence. They've left the court afterwards. It was for us to take over. And now we're playing it. This is our history. Made of countless tales of religious wars, creating and separating countries. That is how India, Pakistan and Bangladesh were created, each with their own religious agenda. Far from it all, I live here in Malaysia, a country where nobody is playing games with religion. Here, people spend away their whole lifespan peacefully. Without trouble. Malay Muslims, the local Tamil Indians and the Malay Chinese. The last time a riot broke out was in 1969. In the Indian subcontinent, it is a completely different story. Rolling the dice Bangladesh is the youngest of nations down the Himalayas. This is where I am from. The official agenda of creating this country was secularism, which turned into pro-India servitude soon enough. While India is your neighbor, trust me, you can not afford to be a secular. If secularism means watching mosques destroyed and keeping your 'Muslim' mouth shut, then you can. You can simply shut up. That's absolutely fine, with both slaves and masters. The relationship between Hindus and Muslims in this territory has always been that of either slaves or masters. Masters were rich, slaves were poor. This is the reason behind the creation of Pakistan, to free Muslims from Hindutva's slavery. That is how the poor, low class Muslims became a Middle class. Bangladesh broke away from it in early 70s. It was East Pakistan. The only Pakistan that remains now was the West Wing of it. Since the beginning, India was rolling the dice. To roll the dice is to create an issue. Mostly, a religious disturbance. India has always been the mightiest in population, in economy and in every other aspects. So, the other countries nearby were expected to pay tax to it. To their master, India. The history is long, and endless. Babri Mosque, in 1992, shaped much of what it is now.

                      People witnessed multiple narratives from both sides. Muslims had their mosque destroyed, crushed to the ground, while Hindus were reading a book called 'Lajja', authored by a woman called Taslima Nasreen. Muslims called the book a 'BJP propaganda'.

It was the biggest demolition of something so big of its kind, in the recent history, before 9/11. When Twin Towers were destroyed, 9/11 replaced the Babri day in calendar in the magnitude of events. Back then, Hindutva rolled the dice. It created the saga. Riots broke out everywhere. In Pakistan, India and Bangladesh. In 2019, Hindutva rolled the dice once again. Again a woman, this time. Because in the age of colonialism, which likes to camouflage itself as liberty, female is the right gender. Things become soft core when it is a woman. Besides, New York Times can always decorate its headlines with words like 'Meet the Woman.'

So we had a Priya Saha. She went straight to Donald Trump. Could it have been a Muslim woman, in the stead of her place? Who would it be? Malala Yousufzai? She's a Nobel laureate, and she's a Muslim. She could have gone to Donald Trump and expressed her distress. But it would risk her image. Already she is mocked at in her own country, Pakistan. Then who? A Gujarat riot victim? Somebody from Assam? The Indian state where they were hunting down the Muslim poets right before it happened? There were some poets among them who were women. They did not get a US visa. Priya Saha got it. I still remember the day before it happened. People in Facebook were posting about this 'Miya poetry', which were elegies of the Assamese Muslim minority. They were written in the local dialect. A dialect that is not considered entirely 'polite' or 'standard', when it comes to the traditional literature.  

The next day, Priya Saha's video went viral. It was a short clip. Roughly, a few seconds. It contained a footage of 'the Hindu Lady and Donald Trump', almost a Disney story of an unknown woman holding hands of a US President.

For what I know, I've never heard of Priya Saha before. I did not know who she was. The first time I learnt about her was 18 July 2019, after her video popped up in Facebook. When the clip was out, everybody in Bangladesh forgot about everything else. For the next thirty days, Facebook was all about Priya Saha. She alleged, 37 million Hindus are 'missing' from Bangladesh. That is a genocide. Probably the largest in the world. We have our war jokes there, about 3 million people who had supposedly perished in the war against Pakistan. Now the Bangladeshi people, the Muslims - were looking for these 'missing' 37 millions. In Bangladesh, it became a new joke. Because we always count in 'millions'. She said, Bangladesh still has 18 million Hindus. Some of them were out proving her number. Among the 37 millions, probably 30 million Hindus were never born, who could have been born otherwise, had Muslims been kind to them. In the Muslim majority nation, it took the joke even further. Not being born started to seem like a thing that's funnier. If we count from 1947, that is a true number - although. That was the year of India and Pakistan's creation. Had the demographics flowed on the way it did before, we might have had 30 million unborn Hindus who would grow into adults by now, plus 7 millions more who were displaced and exiled.

Priya Saha referenced a professor, who has a Muslim name, Abul Barkat. He disowned her statement.

Once again, Muslims were the violent majority. Their reaction was something Westerns would call 'outrageous'.

Thanks to BJP, that it exists. There are, somehow, balance in things. The Bangladeshi Muslims know about their existence. We did not want to deliver BJP their next propaganda, after Nasreen's 'Lajja'. That is how the riot did not happen. We were expecting a riot. We were scared of it. But the fear of a BJP propaganda making gains and profits was much more greater than that - to the Muslim majority. That fear, stopped the riots. Not a single Hindu died. Not a single Hindu was killed. There were no mass rapes of Hindus. No Hindu girls were stripped nude in broad daylight.   BJP wanted all of it to happen. They did not, unlike before. From time to time, such things did happen in Bangladesh. And they gave BJP a solid ground for their arguments. This time, there was no bloodshed. No massacre. At the end of the day, it made the Muslim majority feel more confident. This was the first time they ran down a Hindu woman for a complain like this. In the recent Awami regime, that too was unheard of.

Some of them felt more radicalized. The Hindus were silent. The Muslims accused them of 'having more privileges’ under the Awami regime. As they said, Hindus were getting more jobs, government was hiring them in more top posts and etc. Hindus did not reply to it. They did not want to make the noise louder. They wanted it to die down, as minorities do. In US, Priya Saha did not make news, simply. Nobody in Trump's country heard of her from the US media. The New York Times was busy with Ilhan Omar's minority politics. Not that it did not know about Saha, it decided to skip it. Regardless of the turmoil in the South Asian country that their President has caused.      

BJP did not shy away from it, though. They protested against the Bangladeshi Muslims in front of the country's consulate in West Bengal. BJP did not deny that it rolled the dice, either. They admitted it quite frankly, that they sponsored Priya Saha. 

They rolled the dice. The game started. The show was on.

Priya Saha went on saying, 'I've learnt all this from Sheikh Hasina, my Prime Minister. She inspired me to say this. Now I feel endangered. My life is threatened.'

The Game After Nothing can be right and wrong at the same time. Either it is right, or it is wrong. BJP kills Muslims for eating beef. Either it is right, or it is wrong.

Muslims threatened Priya Saha and called out their desire to turn her into a whore. Either it is right, or it is wrong. 37 Millions might have been a fat fetched number. But some Hindus were displaced, raped and burnt. Either it is right or it is wrong. So, who is the guilty party here? Who's guilty? BJP, or Muslims? What if they both are criminals? The fact is, nothing is that simple. Nobody is guilty as a community, just as nobody is innocent as a community, either. At least in our part of the world, where these things happen. BJP rose to power after killing thousands of Muslims. If they killed millions, that would have been crazier. They openly threaten their Muslim minority in India with it. They say they will kill millions.

Either that is right, or that is severely wrong. It can't be both at the same time. There was no jury board here. Nobody awarded BJP a 'Freedom of Speech prize', or punished the Muslims - for the Priya Saha episode of Bangladeshi history. The same Awami regime who came to power through BJP's machinery were quick to declare their indifference. Although the PM said that Priya must be given a chance to defend herself. So, the issue was not solved. Priya Saha complained. What after that? Should Muslims change their behaviors towards Hindus? Should BJP change its behavior, towards every other minority around India?   People did not have answers to these questions. Everybody knows neither India nor Bangladesh is Malaysia. Here, people use the word 'race' instead. They take courses about interracial relations. Muslims, Hindus and Buddhists live side by side, in the Malaysian society. Most of them don't practice secularism. They practice their own religion. The country's constitution keeps Islam as its state religion - that doesn't stop the Malaysian youngsters from pursuing diverse lifestyles that are completely westernized. Some Malaysian girls choose to wear Hijab, others pick Bikinis. In India, that is impossible. It is sort of impossible in Bangladesh as well, unless you are very rich. You at least have to be from the middle class, with your social securities guaranteed. For us who are from either Bangladesh, India or Pakistan, we don't see our countries going somewhere remotely near to that in the next hundred years. We are a war-torn populace. In Malaysia, we pretend like we don't mind each other. That we are absolutely fine with each other's nationality and presence. Here in Malaysia, Indian and Pakistanis are friends. Even couples. Back home, we are enemies. The deadliest enemies of each other. So, those of us who escaped but still are suffering from irrational homesickness, we look back to our countries. We check Facebook, Twitter and Instagram. We see what is happening. Thus, we live two different realities at the same time. The Malaysian reality and the reality of our homes. After a month, Priya Saha was still hot in newspapers.   Here were the Muslims, still blasting her without mercy. However, there were no riots. Only the ISKCON was closing down. That's the only blow the Hindu community has taken.

BJP couldn't make much profit out of it. There wasn't enough materials to write a new novel. Probably, a sequel of 'Lajja.' So, Hindus were unharmed. For the first time perhaps. It is not natural. While Muslims did not harm them, they still kept bashing. Through their words. It was a great insult, for sure. Having no rise of terrorism in the country was an insult, too. BJP was literally insulted, with no terror whatsoever. No temples were exploded with bombs. In Bangladesh, people do tolerate each other. It is not communal harmony, it is tolerance. The very basic of it. Nobody is fanatic enough to drop a bomb in a temple. It is not middle east. But that is of no use to BJP. BJP wants more novels. More Taslima Nasreens. More Hindutva bestsellers. Frankly speaking, once upon a time, this woman's words were dangerous enough to set off a riot in the country. She still keeps setting riots, but in India. If a minority person complains about the sufferings of a minority, can you simply call it Hindutva? Can you silence it? Can you turn down the volume? The question is, should you? Even if it sets off riots?   Priya Saha is from the Minority community. Her words were setting off riots. Almost. That is the fact. Had she did not went to Trump, Bangladesh wouldn't be in an almost riot situation. She chose Trump for it. People started questioning, since when did Trump become the jury?

The fact is, the riot was not provoked by Muslim hardliners this time. But here was BJP, deprived of its chocolate. Its unborn bestseller. Like a naughty boy in the street who can't have his ice cream, after the ice cream trolley has went away without stopping.

Now the naughty boy wanted to destroy the world. Because the whole world was criminal enough for having ice-creams. He was deprived of it. He missed. Soon enough, in the following month of August, it was the article 370 of Indian constitution that was tampered with, instead of born and unborn 37 millions. It cracked like a firework in whole Bangladesh, right after Priya Saha. Muslims and Hindus were at it again. That article, in that fucking constitution, gave Kashmir a statehood. Before BJP tampered it, the Indian Kashmir was still a state. The Pakistani Kashmir was Azaad, free. 

How easy it is to play with people's lives! Lives of millions! All it takes is a fucking constitution. A Muslim MP in India ripped it apart before walking out of the parliament that day.

37 millions was a joke. 12.5 million people of Kashmir, of which 68% are Muslims, was not even a good tragedy. These millions of Kashmiri Muslims were already 'have been born'. Nobody offered a figure for how many million weren't born there. After BJP passed a bill that changed Article 370, the newly revised constitution was shoved down people's throats. They happened to be Muslims, from Kashmir. It was 5 August 2019, the day India dismissed the article.  Exactly 18 days after they cracked Priya Saha.

Right now, Kashmiri Muslims were fleeing for their lives. The Indian Kashmir was no more a state. Now Hindus could purchase lands there, an option they did not have before.

The state/territory was put under a lockdown.

Nobody could get in or out. The internet was cut off. The Kashmiri newspapers stopped. Phones were disconnected. All communications ceased.

Twenty days later, as I'm writing this in the evening of 25th August, the Kashmiri newspapers are still not back online. One of my Kashmiri friend in Malaysia, did receive a phone call from his family in Kashmir the day before yesterday, for the first time after lockdown. Rest of it, nobody knows. In today's world, nobody knows what is happening in a state/territory that is placed under a lockdown. New York Times has been there. They came out with horrific pictures. But the world is too tired for horrors in Kashmir.

But a few videos were somehow uploaded online. They show people running to-and-fro, in the hospitals. Apparently too many has been injured in Kashmir. People are assuming they are Muslims, leaving a few Indian soldiers aside. Yeah, some Jawans of the Indian military also suffered major and minor injuries, when the locals threw rocks at them. Imran Khan, the Pakistani PM, compared it to 'Nazi ideology', this ghettoization of Kashmiri Muslims. He still refrains from sending his troops for a war, although. But BJP is calling for a war.     War is what it wants. War is what Kashmiris want, too. Because Kashmiri Muslims want Azaadi, freedom. Kashmir has its own history. In 1947, the states and kingdoms of British India were asked to join either India or Pakistan. The Hindu Rajah of Kashmir, decided to join India. Without giving a damn to the Muslim majority in Kashmir. Eventually, Kashmir was divided into two. Azaad Kashmir, that is in Pakistan, and the Occupied Kashmir in India, as most Kashmiri Muslims from both sides and Pakistan calls it. The Maqbooza Kashmir, in Urdu.  

The same BJP that kills Muslims for eating beef has unleashed its terror in the Maqbooza Kashmir.

It is still allowing the foreign press there. New York Times, BBC and all. But from the Kashmiri people, not a word has been heard from last twenty days. Trump is here again. After Priya Saha, he's now saying he will 'mediate' between Pakistan and India. His 'mediation’ will bring peace, he said. But the Kashmiris want Azaadi, which is impossible to achieve without breaking peace. Azaadi means either Maqbooza Kashmir joins Pakistan or it breaks away from India, like Bangladesh did - from West Pakistan. Either way, Azaadi will make India lose some geography completely, forever. A 'peace process' will return the Occupied Kashmir its lost statehood, at most. That's not what Kashmiris want. They've suffered enough when it was a state. They are suffering when it is no longer a state, too. They wanna break free. Absolutely free. Free from India.

That is not Priya Saha's concern, for sure. But when the lockdown started, BJP asked Hindus to 'go marry the Kashmiri girls (and convert them to Hinduism)'.

There aren't 37 million Muslims there. There are millions of them, though. 68% of the 12.5 million, how much is that? Almost 8.5 million. A lot of these 8.5 million Muslims are now in police custody. Being a Muslim is a crime under the laws and codes preferred by BJP. Many of them are in hospitals, injured. As reports are coming, those hospitals are being raided by Indian military. Kashmiri women have been raped since history. From years. There is a mass rape epidemic in Kashmir. The raped girls are all Muslims, all the rapists are Hindus. There has been countless mass killings. Each with a different name. Kunan Poshpora, Sopore, Kupwara, Varmul.

BJP has a plan for it all. It asked Hindus to purchase lands there so that it can replace the Kashmiri Muslim majority with a new Hindu majority, within a few upcoming generations. The majority Muslims will lose their majority status, eventually. In the demography. It looks like the 'missing' 37 million of Priya Saha have flocked there in Kashmir, straight from Bangladesh. They will avenge Bangladesh with Kashmir, turning the majority Muslims into a minority. After Priya Saha, not a single Hindu girl was raped in Bangladesh. They have been raped before. During the war with Pakistan, they were raped and killed. After the war, they were raped during the riots. This time, there wasn't. Not a single one. The Kashmiri girls are being raped. Right now. The Kashmiri boys are being killed. After Priya Saha. Right at this moment. The Monopoly

What makes a minority? Is it just numbers? Numbers are stupid, come on!

Minorities come in all shapes and colors and sizes. They are tall and short, fair and white as well as pitch-black skins. In Africa, certain human species were wiped out because they were dwarfs. They did not have the normal height as other people. Now they are wiping out Muslims. The definition is not just numbers. It may vary here and there, but all the minorities in the world have a common feature. They are discriminated against, and they suffer bigotry. If I am not hired for a top post in a company because of my religion, it makes me a minority - despite the demographics telling otherwise. If a company hires a Hindu man to appoint him as their CEO just because he is a Hindu, it makes him a majority. Because he is sharing the same privileges with the majority religion and gaining unfair advantages for his religion. If a country's police department never arrests criminals from Hindu religion just because he's a Hindu - it does make them the ruling majority. Because a Muslim criminal wasn't to be spared for the same crime. Only the majority knows how to get away with religion. Minority does not have that chance. So, demographics often lie. The majority-minority binary doesn't stop at religion, either. It goes as far as people's sexuality, their lifestyles and professions as well. Bangladesh have a Hindu minority. So did Kashmir. Kashmir's Hindu Pandit minority had to evacuate the valley, when tensions ran high.

Kashmir's Muslim majority is now being butchered by Indian Hindus - who are not from Kashmir. These butchers are no Pandits, either. In no definition of the world, the butchered people are a ruling class. The ruling class are never persecuted. The ruling class are not shot dead. That never happened in the human history. Both the Kashmiri Muslims and the Kashmiri Pandits are minorities - in their own ways. Next the demography will change. Kashmiri Muslims will become a minority in numbers as well. If they are still the majority, they are asking for their majority rights perhaps. That is the kind of stuff happening in Kashmir. The situation in Bangladesh is not that different. Except that we saw Hindu houses getting burnt as recent as three years ago. People burnt their houses and started looting them. I don't remember Muslims hailing the looters, but they say those were political goons. But that made me realize that yes, it still can happen. Three years ago, BJP had its chocolate, too. It did not stop in Bangladesh. The Indian Hindu fanatics celebrated that riot in Nasirnagar. It gave them exactly what they wanted, excuses to kill Muslims.

           The Bangladeshi cops setting fire on a Santal tribal village

It stirred up emotions to get BJP exactly what it wanted as well, more Hindu votes. Priya Saha alleged that her house was burnt down. Not in Nasirnagar, it was somewhere else. Bangladeshi media said, she's torched her own house herself. Never mind Bangladeshi media, they suck. However, a thousand homes were burnt down in India because they belonged to Muslims. The Muslim shops, looted. Cash boxes, vandalized. There were Bilkis Bano, Jakia Jafri. There was Israt Jahan, a Muslim girl killed in a false encounter.

Did Bilkis Bano ever fantasize to reach Donald Trump? Did Jakia Jafri want Donald Trump to listen to her story? Did Israt? Would the White House let them enter? It is the same thing. They too are minority. That day, Donald Trump was there to listen to all the stories from minority people around the world, in his oval office.

There were some Rohingya Muslims, too. But Jakia Jafri wasn't there. Bilkis Bano wasn't there. Israt was dead long time ago. No Kashmiri was there, either. Besides, Donald Trump shares a very good friendship with Narendra Modi. Why was the Indian minority 'missing' in his oval office that day? Some people asked, some didn't. Because everybody knows it is the same thing, but it is not the same thing. Being a minority is not the same thing for Priya Saha and Bilkis Bano. The later is a Muslim, the former, Hindu. It is not the same thing, in our subcontinent. Priya Saha can meet Donald Trump if she wants. The Muslim minorities can not. Israel and US will listen to her if they feel like it. They rarely listen to Muslims. Donald Trump declared a 'Muslim ban', a few years ago - if I need to remind you. Trump is 'mediating'. That is not stopping Hindus. That is not stopping Narenda Modi from butchering Kashmiris. So, what's the conclusion? Both the Hindu minority and Muslim minority are in hellfire.  The majorities are roasting them both. But when it is the Hindu minority, their stories make best sellers. When it is Muslims, France Germany Italy Nicaragua Israel and a few dozen of other countries are not interested. So a man asked in Facebook, a Muslim man from Bangladesh. He said, 'thousands of Kashmiri girls are killed and raped everyday. They aren't winning a Nobel prize for it. Malala did.'

Kashmiri girls are not Malala. They are not fighting the 'war on terror'. So, when they will pen their stories, it won't sell. Mostly, the Bangladeshis, Pakistanis and Indians will read it.

The Hindu minorities get that extra favor. Muslim minorities don’t. Hindutva always excuses its crimes with their Hindu minority. Muslims make no excuses, officially.

Is this really about minority, at all? Or is it about Hinduism? The Hindutva brigade expanding its territory?

To this day, Indians are the sole owner of this monopoly. Because they placed their minorities in Muslim lands. They alone play this minority rights monopoly. They even make money with it. They make a thriving business out of their sufferings. The Indian subcontinent's Muslims did not join them. Their Bilkis Banos were not sexy enough for Donald Trump. We have a minority, too. We have only God to complain. When the God finally listens.

Asif Tamoso 25 August 2019

(Photographs: Collected)

[sapphcon-ic]

My OC: Alessa Hyacinth

ok so i really wanna talk about my ocs so i wanna introduce all of you to alessa hyacinth because shes so fantastic.

i wanna say alessa is the deuteragonist of my story and it mostly has to do with her relationship with ecaeris. their relationship is gradual, ya know? alessa and ecaeris do not have anything in common at first. ecaeris is the heir to a massive kingdom with a lot of pressure on her shoulders for living up to her mother's, Queen Hasina, legacy. and alessa is from a very poor kingdom and she only moved to afanthyr so that she can take care of her mother but her mother HATES the military. so when alessa goes off to join to better herself, her mother tells her to stay gone and it breaks her fucking heart.

so she meets ecaeris and doesnt think much of her. you know, ecaeris is really pretty and regal and incredibly smart and alessa is kinda flustered about it. shes interested in who ecaeris is underneath her title but she cant really find out because shes in the military and busy worrying about her mother in Osenlyonne (the kingdom shes from), and she never gets a chance to really speak to ecaeris.

and then Queen Hasina is looking for candidates for her personal guard and she spots alessa commanding some lieutenants and shes really impressed with how she leads. when Hasina asks Alessa to join her personal guard, shes floored because someone is seeing something in alessa no one saw before. including (actually especially) her mother. so she accepts it graciously cause who the hell is gonna say no to the Queen of Afanthyr.

and she gets closer to ecaeris but not enough to the point where they can form a friendship. ecaeris is busy guys, ok? her coronation is close at this point and shes already under so much pressure to perform that she doesnt notice this random chick in her mother's personal guard utterly fascinated by who she is. so alessa doesnt press things. she does her duties as a guardsman and admires Ecaeris from afar, but they talk a couple of times and Alessa leaves every conversation breathless.

and then the siege happens. its all confusing and chaotic. alessas already seen so many bodies and blood and shes close to a breakdown, but she finds Hasina and her role is to protect the queen through everything. but hasina knows her time is up and the only thing the queen can think about is ecaeris. so she looks to see the men and women who have pledged their entire lives to hers and she sees Alessa already accepting her own death and she cant fucking let her do that.

so she tells her to abandon post and save her daughter. and alessa thinks the queen didnt just order brigadier general alessa hyacinth to just abandon her duties, so shes all like, "lmao what"

and hasina repeats herself and shes like "OH you actually said that lmao, uhhhh bro i literally took an oath to die for you i cant just abandon that"

and hasina literally doesnt care. you know that meme where its that guy and the caption is 'fuck them kids' yeah thats hasina but its 'fuck your oath'.

after a little incentive (spoilers lmao) she finally does and its like alessa is being physically ripped in half but she understands. ecaeris is the future, and despite ecaeris' own doubts and worries, shes more qualified than anyone to be queen. so alessa leaves and saves her.

and if you asked alessa if she regrets her decision, she'll tell you "no, obviously not. ecaeris is the future." but its not like it doesnt haunt her. the guilt is a disease but she finds hope in ecaeris and, yes she will always feel guilty and she'll always wonder if there was any way to save the queen, but looking at ecaeris dulls the pain. being with ecaeris is enough to make her content with that night.

[whatsonmedia]

Sheikh Hassina- lift sanctions against Russia!

Bangladesh Prime Minister Sheikh Hassina has urged the Western countries and America to lift the sanctions against Russia. She is the first head of the government to urge the government to lift the sanctions. Russia attacked Ukraine in February claiming to DE Nazify the Ukrainians who were pro-Nazis. But the war is still going on and America and other Western countries sanction on Russia to put pressure on Russia for ending the war. But this sanction has severe repercussions throughout the global and world is slipping into famine. The Western nations led the US have frozen about 400 billion of Russian assets. This have a adverse affect on the food commodities and also on the humanitarian front. Women que for buying rice flour She said that, "America should consider that the sanctions (against Russia) are hurting their own people. Your sanctions are targeted at pressuring Russia. But to what extent are they feeling the feeling the pressure". Hasina further added that, " all countries irrespective of status- developed, developing, and low income countries- have been suffering". This came after her country is suffering major economic and food crisis. Due to the sanctions food prices have gone up immensely and people are suffering everywhere. People in Bangladesh are bearing the burden of rising food, fuel, and fertilizers. Government is being forced to adverse measures of limiting fuel use and electricity generation. The UN had warned that Russia's war in Ukraine could push up to 49 million people into famine or famine-like condition. Hasia said the US-imposed sanctions have reduced the availability of goods, including those imported by Bangladesh. Not only in Bangladesh, but people in the US, Europe, the UK and the rest of the world are also affected by the sanctions. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=o7GwCEq3Lpg As Charles Dickens had wrote in 'A Tale of Two Cities', that, "it was the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness, it was the epoch of belief..." The time in which we live shows the contradictory world where East is flourishing and the Western countries are doomed. It's a time of global famine and war, but also a time to give hope to humanity to stand in unity. Hassina's speech will make a greater impact throughput the world. Read the full article

[sinedras-snippets]

Snake Charmer

So, I got a lot of love on my first chapter and I appreciate it so much. Means a lot. But I put myself in a corner. With each chapter revealing something big about the MC and others, it found it difficult to keep a plot. It kept changing. So, for now anyway, I’m changing my story into a collection. I’m going to do one for Asra (being “Snake Charmer”), Nadia (ugh titles are hard), and Julian (which will be “A Conspiracy of Ravens”). I find this to be less stressful on myself as canon kept changing.

That being said, with all the new chapters, I’ve never loved the game more and I’m sad to see it close to ending. Keep hoping for that Muriel route though.

                                              Masquerade

          Fireworks lit up the dusk sky; vibrant reds and yellows across a scarlet and lilac horizon. Blooming explosively in a brilliance Maisynira had only ever observed from her bedroom window before. Now she viewed them outside her aunt’s shop, wide eyed and bouncing with excitement. Dressed in a skirt and blouse once owned by her mother. The lehenga – the skirt in her mother’s tongue - a deep sapphire threaded gold designs from her family’s homeland. The choli was gold, silk straps handing off her shoulders while the hem ended beneath her bust. Silk dupatta scarf draped over her shoulder as she stared at the night sky.

           “It’s amazing!”

           Her aunt was closing the shop behind her, the modest fabric wrapped tight around her waist and draped over her shoulder. Jewels draped in her dark hair. “Overly extravagant and indulgent, you mean.” She came up beside her niece. Smoothing out the young girl’s loose curls. The bursts of light making their brown skin look bronze. “There will be thousands of people, are you sure you’re ready?”

           Maisynira grinned, “I’m sixteen, of course I am!”

           “Remember, no straying too far. The palace is huge. And one glass of wine, no more. We will still be getting up early tomorrow.”

           She groaned but nodded. “Yes Hasina.”

           “I’m not going to hear about this from my sister.” Her aunt looked over her shoulder, winking at her, “at least not this year.”

           Maisynira joined her side and they linked arms as they watched party-goers and carriages flood toward the palace. “Have you spoken to her about my staying for good?”

           Hasina grew quiet and gently squeezed her arm. “Yes.” There was a grim finality to it, her face pulled into a frown. “Not this year Mira,” she saw the girl sulk, “just be patient, it’ll happen soon. Then you won’t have to hide.”

           She was trying, but it was so disheartening to know she would have to return home. Where she couldn’t use magic, or dance in the street with her aunt, staying up drying and grinding herbs. Asking the salamander to extinguish the fire before bed. Instead of allowing her aunt to see this, she smirked and said, “You mean scaring off customers?”

           They both chuckled, “Reflecting a skull in the crystal ball and making the poor man think it was Death is not a good way to keep patrons. Still, I won’t forget how he fell out of his seat and screamed.”

           Maisynira stood straighter, a pleased grin replaced her false smile. “And ran right into those sailors.”

           The quirk at the corner of Hasina’s lips was so familiar that she felt proud to see it. A hint of mischief so in kin to her own that even though she was often scolded, it felt like a lesson. Don’t get caught. Subtly is key. Be sneakier. “Indeed, one would have thought he’d been the one at sea for months with his weak legs.” She was about to say more when she spotted a familiar face, a blush coloring her cheeks. “Mira, I’ll be back. Don’t go on without me.”

           “Don’t be too long,” she teased, “or I’ll send a chaperone!” Hasina bumped her with a girlish giggle before walking off. Watching her disappear gracefully down the street, toward the woman that made her act so childishly. Who made her happy with a glance.

           Wanting to give her a private moment, she wandered around the corner. Listening to the musicians playing in the streets, joining the revels in the only way they could enjoy as there was a high-class orchestra playing in the palace. She closed her eyes and listened to the drums, someone had a flute, and lute made up the makeshift group. Despite them being down the road, she could feel the music in her bones, the drum urging her to join.

           Maisynira didn’t deny its call. She spun, letting her skirt spiral around her, turning on the tips of her slippers, the small charms on her anklet chiming together. She clapped her hands and posed her arms in the barest resemblance to the traditional dances from back home. Delicate footwork followed, and she dipped and flourished more. Her own twist was the rolling of her hips, the snaps and sways she had seen from some of the dancers here. A mix of home and Vesuvia. Her own dance. It wasn’t until she felt her dupatta fall from her shoulders that she remembered the world around her.

           She hadn’t gone far down the street, but she was before a stall she’d never seen before. Set up behind her aunt’s shop between it and another house. It was small and make shift, looking like it could be hastily packed. Manning the stall was a set of twilight eyes, bright with amusement.

           A blush covered her cheeks as he held her scarf in his hands, smirk covering his face. She approached shyly, taking the proffered item back. “Please, don’t stop on my account.” His voice was smooth as velvet and just as soft. He looked boyish, but he was tall and slender, eyes deep and full of mystery. Of questions she didn’t realize she needed to ask and answers her soul had to hear. All framed by the fluffiest hair she’d ever seen. Mira longed to run her fingers through those snowy locks.

           “Who said I did?” She retorted bravely.

           “Perhaps because I stole your scarf.” He didn’t sound the least bit sorry. She should have been mad, but she was more amazed.

           Maisynira approached the stall, picking a beautiful wooden mask from several other unique visages. Expertly carved and skillfully painted. “Did you now?” The doe in her hands stared back through empty sockets. Graceful even in her froze silver face. Still, not the mask for her. “It has been quite breezy today. Are you taking credit for the wind?”

           “A fair point,” she heard the amusement in his voice, but she continued to look through bears, peacocks, and rams, “but the wind is fickle and easily manipulated. Shall I show you how?”

           “How bold,” she finally looked up, finding him leaning over the table. While she struggled to hold her amusement, he did not. Feeling ashamed for being drawn in, she set the masks back and stepped away. “No, I don’t think so. I’m not impressed by coincidences.”

           It wasn’t until she’d turned her back on him that he spoke. “If not coincidence, how about fate?”

           “As long as that fate has me at the masquerade, then yes.” Mira shook her head with a scoff, wrapping her dupatta back around her. Ignoring the curiosity that rose from his words.  “Which I should be at now. Good evening.”

           “Hey, hold on-“

           She ignored him and kept going, weaving through the gap between the crowd and into the street. Only to be almost run over by a ridiculously extravagant carriage: white horses, gold filigree designs, and absolutely unconcerned for the revelers abound. Falling back, feet catching the hem of her skirt as a crowd gathered to watch the foreign carriage pull up to the palace gates. No one bothered to help her, in fact, as she slowly fell, it didn’t seem as though anyone knew she was there.

           Right before she hit the ground, a strong force caught her by her arms. Heaving her back to her feet and pulling her back and out of the gawkers. Breathless, she found herself once again inside the mask stall. The soft fabric of the over hang offering the illusion of privacy.

           “Close call,” a smooth voice said in her ear. She quickly pulled away to find the boy, a soft smile on his face, “are you alright?”

           “Fine, thank you.” She could feel her heart pounding and looked over her shoulder at the masses, her face twisting in a sneer, “Nobility or not, how rude!”

           “Always trying to get somewhere fast, though usually people look before stepping into the middle of the street.”

           She whirled on him with an indignant look. “I was distracted!”

           “Was I that charming?”

           “Not anymore!”

           His laugh sent chills down her spine, annoyingly pleasant and… charming. “Well milady,” he gave a small bow, still smiling brightly, “I’m afraid you’re stuck with me till the crowd leaves.”

           “I’m no lady! It’s Mais- Mai. My name is Mai.”

           “It suits you. Asra is my humble name.”

           “Of course it suits me, it’s mine after all.” She crossed her arms and tried to look angry, but curiosity won out. Besides, he was right, she would not be fighting that crowd. “Were you lying earlier?”

           He sighed, but grinned. “Your scarf came straight to my hand.”

           “You swear?”

           “Oh absolutely. I take full credit for the theft.” This all amused him greatly.

           She bit her cheek but leaned forward. Arms crossed. “You mean with magic?”

           The smirk was back, and the anger left the lines of her body. She felt his magic before she saw its affect, it brushed the edges of her mind like a soft breeze before drawing the dupatta from her shoulders as though the breeze existed beyond her consciousness. Settling in his waiting palm. Smirk fading as he saw the genuine awe in her eyes. The fascination that stole across her features.

           “You’re a magician!”

           “In training,” he clarified, “but no street charlatan and no half talented diviner either.” With the last comment he nodded toward the back of her aunt’s shop.

           Asra startled as she snatched the scarf back and rose to the tips of her feet to try and reach his height. “Hasina is not half talented, she had no formal training! Besides she’s an excellent herbalist and makes quality potions and charms.”

           He had the nerve to look ashamed. “You misunderstood, I just meant her predictions aren’t often accurate, especially using a crystal ball. It’s always going to be a fuzzy fortune at best. Vague even.”

           “And you just happen to know the best form of divining?”

           He smiled again and leaned back against the table with his masks. Unbothered by her crossed arms and scowl. “There is no best way, the form must fit the person. I have a good friend who can only get quality answers from runes; personally, I consult the arcana.”

           “Tarot?”

           A hand reached into his pocket and pulls out a deck of beautiful cards. Violet backed and painstakingly illustrated. He spread the cards out and offered them to her, she felt a tingle from the deck. The feeling almost a hum as her fingers grasped one and turned it over: A ram, upside down.

           “Ah, the hierophant reversed.”

           “Is that bad?”

           He shook his head, sending white strands sliding across his forehead, nearly into his eyes. “Not at all, in fact what he’s saying is encouraging. Don’t settle in your beliefs, accept the good change entering your life. That maybe it’s time to break convention and question tradition.”

           “Embrace change?”

           “The Arcana speak clearly, are you in need of change?”

           Mai looked away, wringing her hands. Clanking bangles filling the silence between them. “Desperately.” She brought bright blue eyes to a soft face and returned his smile, “I think your deck speaks true- ah!” She shrunk back with a gasp, eyes locked on his shoulder. “Uhh… y-y-your shoulder.”

           He barely inclined his head, seeing the snake perched there before laughing. The serpent raising its head and pointing ruby eyes on her. “It’s just Faust. Where have you been?”

           He was speaking with it? Asra seemed to be, staring expectantly at it as the snake moved its gaze from her to the strange boy before her. “Is that your pet?”

           Asra gave her a wide-eyed look before shaking his head. Taking one of Mai’s hands, she tried to fight but his sad eyes stopped her. “Faust is not my pet, she’s my friend and familiar; she won’t hurt you, she’s never hurt anyone. Here.” Faust moved from his shoulder and slithered just barely up her arm, pausing and tilting her head. As if she was waiting for permission.

           “O-ok.” Smooth scales brushed past her elbow, cool as water, and rested on her upper arm. Almost tickling her. Maisynira watched her lilac head, trying to slow her pounding heart. “Do all magicians have familiar?”

           “Most, not all.” Faust stuck her tongue out and touched her cheek. Making her jump. Asra chuckled and pried the python off her. “She says you smell nice.”

           “She speaks?” Despite how she felt, it was either entirely bogus or brilliant.

           “I’m the only one who can hear her, but in our own way. Yes.” Faust raised her head again, curled in his hands. “Curious, Kitten?”

           Mai scoffed, but reached brave fingers out to stroke the snake’s head. Hand shaking before fully touching the scales. “Kitten?”

           “Mhm,” he grinned as Faust closed her eyes and turned her head upside down. “Jumpy, nervous, but curious passed your fears.” Mai tried to look angry, but her cheeks flushed. “Faust would really like a chin scratch if you’re up to it.”

           Ruby eyes opened and looked up expectantly. With a deep breath she brought her fingers to Faust’s chin and gently scratched the soft underside and managed a smile as the python’s head drooped. “She’s very pretty, and not so scary.”

           She hadn’t known him long, but the proud smile on his face made her beam. “Seems you have a new friend Faust.” His familiar didn’t move which was a pretty good indicator to her skills with scratches. “Well Kitten, your party awaits.” He flourished his free hand out behind her, sure enough the crowd had dispersed.

           She turned back and watched Faust curl back up around his shoulders. “Will you be going?”

           He turned his gaze to the palace, a sort of sadness in their depths. “No, Count Lucio’s parties are no place for me.” When her face fell, he gently cuffed her chin with the curve of his finger. “Go enjoy it for me, alright?”

           She nodded softly, then grinned, “I’ll bring back lots of stories, perhaps something very interesting will happen.” Mischief in her eyes, his responding smirk gave her the same feeling as her aunt, a soul like her own. Someone who understood her. And they would probably never meet again.

           “I look forward to hearing your adventures, in return I’ll tell you some of my own.”

           “Deal.”

           They shared a smile and she turned to leave then stopped. Recalling the feel of his magic earlier, Maisynira focused her eyes on her target and imagined the feel and tried to recreate it herself. Like the breeze came from her this time. The desired mask rose from the table and – though wavering – rode her magic back to her hand. Grinning, she tied the ribbon of the golden cheetah around her face. Asra’s expression was stunned before breaking into a smile so bright her chest hurt.

           She flipped him a coin from the small pocket in her lehenga, smirking as he caught it deftly in one hand. “Thanks for the mask, happy masquerade.”

           “Happy masquerade Mai.”

           She twirled on her toes, striding back onto the street. Seeing her aunt looking frantically through the crowd. Relief filling her face as she spotted Maisynira. Every step she took filled her with excitement as the palace loomed closer the sights within so thrilling, but every step filled her with longing. A tug back to the strange boy, to a life of magic and mystery. How much could he show her, tell her? Still, perhaps that life wasn’t for her.

           Besides, it was either a night of revelry the likes she could only experience once or a night of mystery the kind of which could change her life forever. Her mother always said mystery played with disappointment and broken dreams. Still, as they stepped through enormous gates, fireworks reflecting off her golden mask as she watched in breathless wonder, she couldn’t help but feel like she made the wrong choice.

[newstfionline]

How Bangladeshis are coping with half a million new Rohingya refugees

By Max Bearak, Washington Post, September 29, 2017

The sudden arrival of half a million Rohingya Muslims has upended life in this humble village, which is now overshadowed by one of the largest concentrations of refugees in the world.

The village’s rundown school and a smattering of rice paddies sit across the road from thousands of acres of bamboo huts covered by black tarp, a safe harbor for the refugees fleeing ethnic violence in Burma. That land was once a forest where villagers picked wild fruit.

Last Saturday, the midday tea-sipping crowd hung out on the benches in front of Munwara Begum’s provisions store here. In their discussion were echoes of a conversation happening around the world about the costs of compassion toward refugees. It was one filled with conflicting emotions.

“The price of rice has doubled since they came. The price of rickshaws has doubled. Vegetables, soap, you name it, and the price has gone up,” said Begum, counting her very real grievances on her fingers. Basic economics is at work here: When demand rises sharply and supply lags in catching up, prices rise.

“And the Rohingya are rich!” she said. “They have nice phones, solar panels. The ones who’ve been here since ‘91 are in better shape than us!”

Joshimuddin, an elementary school teacher who like many here goes by one name, chimed in.

“Crime, too,” he said. “If a Rohingya beats someone or even murders them, they can just hide in the refugee camp. Then what are we supposed to do? They outnumber us.”

“It’s not like I don’t have sympathy--they had their own lives and now they have to stand in line for an hour just to use the toilet,” he continued. “But ...”

Begum completed his thought with an echo of the Burmese state line she said she had heard: “Their boys attacked the military first. What did they expect to happen?”

Eklash Mian, a sharecropper, was visibly uncomfortable. He put his arm around his young son, drew him close and said, “They are poor. They are in trouble. Let them come. We’ll get by.”

The recent arrivals are most certainly poor and in trouble. Many arrived with nothing but the clothes on their backs. Others who had time to bring livestock or family heirlooms sold them for a pittance to the boatmen who ferried them to safety across an estuary that separates their burning villages in Burma from Bangladesh. As aid organizations struggle to cope with the sheer scale of need, thousands of Rohingya line the main road here, begging for alms.

Then again, Bangladesh is not exactly a beacon of prosperity. Nor is it a land of wide open spaces.

Bangladesh has far and away the highest population density of any sizable nation--around 3,000 people per square mile pack the alluvial plain that spans most of the country. The average Bangladeshi earns less than $1,500 a year. National highways are often pothole-strewn two-lane roads.

The overcrowding, the poverty and the underdevelopment are amplified in the country’s far southeast, where the half-million new arrivals have joined hundreds of thousands who fled earlier waves of violence. The latest exodus out of Burma began Aug. 25, when a band of Rohingya militants attacked police posts in Rakhine state, prompting a violent military crackdown in Rohingya villages.

Returning to Burma, also known as Myanmar, anytime soon is simply not in the cards for the Rohingya. Despite living in Burma for generations, they are considered Bangladeshi interlopers, not citizens, and the question of whether Burma will ever grant return to those who have no paperwork is viewed with great doubt here.

Although locals may be reluctant with their sympathy, bigger players in Bangladesh are eyeing political opportunities in this time of crisis.

Speaking to Al Jazeera last week, Bangladeshi Prime Minister Sheikh Hasina brushed aside doubts that her impoverished country could handle the influx and cast the well-being of the Rohingya as a national cause.

“Bangladesh is not a rich country, it is true. We have 160 million people in a small geographical land,” she said. “But if we can feed 160 million people, another 500 or 700,000, we can do it. We can share our food. We are ready to do it. And our people are already doing it.”

Across Bangladesh, streets and highways are lined with posters depicting Hasina wiping a tear off the cheek of a refugee child. They boldly declare: “Sheikh Hasina is the mother of humanity,” and “Where is humanity, there is Sheikh Hasina.” The opposition parties have their own versions. A hotly contested national election is just one year away.

Where politicians hope some will see compassion, others are seeing a ploy to curry support from Bangladesh’s religious right, which has come out strongly in favor of welcoming the refugees. Rohingya Muslims largely adhere to a conservative strain of Islam and speak a language similar to the dialect of Bengali prevalent in the country’s southeast. Bangladesh is 90 percent Muslim.

“Bangladesh offered land to shelter Rohingya. What if these people were Hindus, Buddhists, Christians, Jews but not Muslims? Shelter not for humanity but for votes!” wrote Taslima Nasreen, one of Hasina’s fiercest critics who has lived in exile since 1994, when she was accused of defaming Islam.

The Islamist groups that hounded secularists such as Nasreen out of the country are the same ones spearheading the local relief effort for Rohingya refugees. The camps are full of volunteer groups from religious schools and organizations, handing out food, clothes and cash.

One in particular, Hefazat-e-Islam, has staged increasingly large rallies in Bangladesh’s two biggest cities, Dhaka and Chittagong. Tens of thousands have shown up. On Monday, Hefazat leader Junayed Babunagari issued a public statement saying the Rohingya were facing “genocide” and that if diplomacy fails to return them to their homes in Burma, Bangladesh should consider a military intervention.

Curiously, no religious or governmental organization is suggesting a path to citizenship for the Rohingya, who are expected to be here indefinitely. And government-imposed restrictions confine them to the camps near Gundum. Police checkpoints have turned back thousands seeking to move farther afield.

“The prophet Muhammad, peace be upon him, said that Muslims must help other Muslims,” said Maulana Jameel Hossein, a teacher at a madrassa who was tossing used clothing at refugees who had gathered around his organization’s truck. “The Rohingya are being attacked for no other crime than being Muslim. Until they can go back home, they will be our guests.”

Perhaps that was easy for Hossein to say. He lives in Brahmanbaria, 250 miles away from the camps that continue to grow by the day.

[global-news-station]

DHAKA: A schoolgirl was burned to death in Bangladesh on the orders of her head teacher after she reported him for sexually harassing her, police said Friday.

The death of 19-year-old Nusrat Jahan Rafi last week sparked protests across the South Asian nation, with the prime minister promising to prosecute all those involved.

Rafi was lured to the rooftop of the seminary she attended where her attackers asked her to withdraw the sexual harassment complaint she had filed with police.

When she refused, she was doused in kerosene and set on fire.

Police said Friday that one of the 17 people arrested in connection with her death had accused the school’s principal of ordering the attack.

The teacher “told them to put pressure on Rafi to withdraw the case or kill her if she refused”, senior police superintendent Mohammad Iqbal, who is leading the investigation, told AFP.

Rafi had gone to police in late March to report the sexual harassment, and a leaked video shows the local police station chief registering her complaint but dismissing it as “not a big deal”.

Iqbal said at least five of those under arrest, including three of Rafi’s classmates, had tied her up with a scarf before setting her on fire.

“The plan was to pass the incident off as a suicide. But it fell through after Rafi managed to come downstairs while on fire because the scarf burnt and freed her hands and feet,” he said.

Rafi suffered burns to 80 per cent of her body and died in hospital on April 10.

But she recorded a video before her death, repeating her allegations against the principal.

“The teacher touched me, I will fight this crime till my last breath,” she said. She also identified some of her attackers.

The case has caused outrage in Bangladesh, with Prime Minister Sheikh Hasina vowing that “none of the culprits will be spared legal action.”

Rights groups say the number of rape and sexual assault cases has increased in Bangladesh because authorities have failed to prosecute attackers.

“The horrifying murder of a brave woman who sought justice shows how badly the Bangladesh government has failed victims of sexual assault,” Meenakshi Ganguly, South Asia director at Human Rights Watch, said in a statement.

“Nusrat Jahan Rafi’s death highlights the need for the Bangladesh government to take survivors of sexual assault seriously and ensure that they can safely seek a legal remedy and be protected from retaliation,” she added.

  The post Bangladesh girl burned to death on teacher’s order appeared first on ARYNEWS.

http://bit.ly/2V9u6G4

[bollywood24x7worldwide-blog]

Saif ali Kahn’s Experiimental Self

Saif Ali Khan is one of the Bollywood actor who experimenting with roles and characters in his films. He has dared to take up films which a superstar or front row actor will not even think of. He has experimented with many shades of being an actor and has not gotten scared of taking up bold films. Saif ali Khan’s new upcoming film“Kaalakaandi” is one such example. The film’s trailer showed us the face of how crazy Saif can get if you want him to be. So let’s see some of his best experimental characters.

1- Dil Chahta Hai

Its story of 3 best friends this movie is known as a cult buddy movie of Bollywood. He played as the craziest Sameer. He is a genial, well-meaning, desperately romantic, but confused guy who is prone to romantic infatuations and believes to have found true love whenever he gets attracted to a girl.

2- Ek Hasina Thi

In this crime thriller, Saif plays the role of a charming and mysterious businessman who fancies a normal working girl (played by Urmila Matondkar). Their whirlwind romance turns sour when the girl falls in the trap of underworld crimes of Saif’s character. This movie showed us the grey shade of Saif.

3- Being Cyrus

It’s an English language black comedy-thriller film. Saif plays the protagoniost. The film is directed by Homi Adajania. The film revolves around a parsi family and gets involved in theier business. He falls in love with an older woman who very cunningly embroils him into her devious plan.

4- Parineeta

It’s a love story of Lalita (Vidya Balan) and Shekhar (Saif Ali Khan). But there comes some trouble in their love story with the incoming of another man played by Sanjay Dutt. The film is an adaptation of the 1914 novel of the same name. Saif’s method acting in this film is very inspiring.

5- Omkara

The film is adapted from Shakespeare’s Othello. It starred Ajay Devgan, Saif Ali Khan and Kareena Kapoor in the lead roles. Saif plays the antagonist, Langda Tyagi. It was such a well written character that Saif’s acting skills will take you by surprise! Saif made the role look tailor made for him with the uncouth abuse-laden dialogues of Langda Tyagi and his crazy actions.

6- Aarakshan

The movie is based on the reservation system & political issues of India and is directed by Prakash Jha. The film also starred Amitabh Bachchan, Deepika Padukone and Manoj Bajpayee. Saif plays the role of a low-caste teacher, who is rejected in interviews for being low caste.

7- Cocktail

Can you name any actor who would agree for a movie where the actress steals the limelight? I guess not! Cocktail is a completely on Deepika’s Charecter! It is an endearing story of love and friendship. I am sure it was a big gamble for Saif to portray this character. It was one of the best romantic comedies of 2012.

8- Go Goa Gone

It is a Hindi Zombie comedy film in Indian cinema where Saif played the role of a fake Russian mafia. The film was also produced by Saif. The film revolved around 2 friends played by Kunal Khemu and Vir Das and their flat mate Anand Tiwari. They are bored of their life and get fired from their jobs. They plan a trip to Goa and get involved in rave parties. The film was hilarious and is a must watch!

9- Happy Ending

Happy Ending is a story of a confused writer who goes on the search of inspiration for his next story and falls in love with a best seller author who doesn’t believe in love. The writer’s character has been played by Saif Ali Khan.

10- Chef

The heart warming Bollywood film “Chef” shows the various colors of human emotions. In this film he plays an amazing role for the first time he act as a father. Chef Roshan Kalra(Saif Ali Khan) sets out to find the true source of happiness and reignite his passion for food while being more present in his son’s life. Saif did justice to his role.

So these are some top Bollywood Movies of Saif ali Khan. Saif is one of the most talented actors in Bollywood but doesn’t get the limelight he deserves. With the list of films above, now you can see for yourself how versatile Saif is!

[wionews]

Bangladesh chief justice resigns amid controversy

Bangladesh's first Hindu Chief Justice Surendra Kumar Sinha, facing graft and money laundering allegations, has resigned a month after he went on leave abroad amid a row with the government over a crucial Supreme Court judgement, a senior official said today.

Sinha assumed office on January 17, 2015 as the country's 21st Chief Justice. He is scheduled to retire on January 31 next.

"His resignation letter has reached Bangabhaban (presidential palace)," President's press secretary Joynal Abedin said without elaborating, but legal experts said this confirmation meant that Sinha has quit his office.

Officials familiar with the development said, Sinha submitted his resignation letter to Bangladesh Embassy in Singapore on the last day of his month-long leave yesterday, where he had gone for medical checkups.

On October 13, he had left Dhaka for Australia on a private tour amid reports that the government was upset with him over his decision to scrap parliament's authority in impeaching Supreme Court (SC) judges.

Before his departure, Sinha had said that he was 'embarrassed' over the controversy surrounding his July ruling.

"I am the guardian of the judiciary, in the interest of the judiciary, I am leaving temporarily so that its image does not get hurt. I will return," he briefly told newsmen before leaving Dhaka.

Row with the government and the higher judiciary started in July this year when the apex court declared as void the 16th constitutional amendment, scrapping Parliament's authority in impeaching SC judges.

The dispute grew in the subsequent weeks as many ministers attacked Sinha for slamming the government for reactions over the verdict, and cited Pakistan's example where Prime Minister Nawaz Sharif was stripped of the premiership following an apex court ruling.

Before leaving home, Sinha said he 'firmly believes' that his stance over the verdict was misinterpreted to the government, upsetting Prime Minister Sheikh Hasina but expected her to realise soon the fact.

A day after his departure, the Supreme Court issued a statement saying that other judges of the apex court had decided not to sit in the bench with Sinha over allegations of 'grave' graft and moral lapses, brought to their notice by President Abdul Hamid.

"This written statement  is misleading," a Supreme Court statement said, adding that President Hamid on September 30, invited all the five apex court judges to Bangabhaban, barring the chief justice, and handed over to them 'evidences of 11 specific allegations' against Sinha.

It said the allegations included some grave charges like money laundering, financial irregularities, corruption and moral lapses.

In unitary Bangladesh, the Supreme Court has two wings, the High Court Division and the apex Appellate Division.

According to the SC statement, all the five apex court judges held a meeting on the next day and subsequently met Sinha and sought his explanation about the allegations but 'didn't get any acceptable explanation or reply'.

"So all of them clearly conveyed to him that until the disposal of those charges it will not be possible for them to share the bench with him to deliver justice," the statement said.

Former Prime Minister Khaleda Zia-led main opposition outside parliament, BNP had put their weight behind Sinha while its standing Committee Member and former law minister Moudud Ahmed blamed the government for "forcing" him to quit.

"Sinha's resignation day will be marked as a black chapter," he said accusing the government of 'smashing independence' in the judiciary.

The President had appointed senior most judge of the apex court Abdul Wahhab Miah as the acting chief justice. 

According to Bangladesh Constitution, if the chief justice's office becomes vacant, the next senior most judge of the Appellate Division will perform his duties.

Sinha belonged to ethnic minority Tripura community and since his appointment in 2015 he chaired the apex court in upholding death penalties of several leading perpetrators of 1971 war crimes.

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[asifzschool]

A woman from the other political party

Because the issue is not feminism. Definitely not. Since I began with 'political party', I think I should mention a few. Take BJP & AAP for example. Both from India. Not only BJP has a woman wing, their radical Hindutva alliance and their main propagandist RSS too has a woman wing. Even a Muslim wing exists for BJP. I know some stories around this women. Right now, I'm typing on my keyboard, and putting down the words on a gmail draft - whatever is coming to my mind. As I remember, I was googling up that Congress woman this December. Renuka Chowdhury was holding  the Women's and Child Development Minister's post in Congress era, a while ago. Well, several years ago. Now, Renuka was a fierce lady. Whoever else I have seen in the Indian stage? I would, definitely mention Asiya Andrabi - because I was never a supporter of Mehbooba Mufti. I hated her, to be precise. Her Kashmiri political party, PDP - formed an alliance with BJP. Some times later, she resigned.

I support Asiya Andrabi, instead. Because she is the one fighting the colonial power. Mufti, along with Taslima Nasreen, Sushma Swaraj, Uma Bharti etc - are supposed to be written in a different record. I made an attempt to think up a name for that. Should it be 'The Indian Mademoiselles'?   Asiya Andrabi is a Muslim lady, called for death penalty for Islamophobes - which was a bit of 'too much Muslim fanaticism' on the TV screen. The Indian channels did broadcast what she was saying, to generate public views, needless to say - in favor of BJP. The fanatic Hindutva party from whom even Hindus are not safe, they kill Dalits because they are from lower caste, not Brahmins - which is still happening in our world. And they kill/ask the Bangladeshi Government to kill and burn and loot the Bangladeshi Hindus - to further their Hindutva agenda. We bear witness to all this claims. We know they are not allegations, they are real. But caste is a thing in our world. I'm allowing my words to flow on, to take whatever turns it wants. In Bangladesh, the lower cast is BNP, lowest is Jamat - the 'political pariah'. The Brahmin is Awami League, though BNP is the word which begins with a B. That is all BNP and Brahmin have in common. The Brahmin ideology is about inferior race and superior race. Everybody else is inferior if you're a Brahmin. However, we were supposed to talk about political feminism - not religion. There are things around women happening in Bangladesh. That is our politics. The two women - Khaleda Zia, and Sheikh Hasina. If we look at India, it's BJP and Congress. Sushma Swaraj vs whom? Renuka Chowdhury? Or Sonia Gandhi? Renuka is long out of news. But she was as fierce as Asiya, our Kashmiri Jihadist woman. Mamata Banerjee has been termed 'Jihadi didi' by BJP supporters, that J-word reminds me. She has a fan base in Bangladesh, since there are Bangladeshis who know too well changing the Delhi politics is probably the only way out for our stupid, unlivable, insufferable country. The fact is, Bangladeshis themselves are not a big fan of Bangladesh. I call it a ‘shit-hole’. We know our country is gone. Taken. India is in control. We wish we would still be discussing Benazir Bhutto and Reham Khan - but sadly, that is not what is happening. We are discussing Hasina-Khaleda, both of them has been put in the same bracket in world media, 'the two begums'. My talk is simple. If you want Indian women's rights in Bangladesh, you have to deprive Bangladeshi women of their rights. Yesterday, just after I wrote something on Facebook about Hasina's Gopalganj, I got a taxi driver named Sanjaya Gopal. Here in Malaysia. We talked a lot. Even he is aware of it. He knows how Indian crime lords are taking over the SAARC nations. Sanjaya's girlfriend is Bangladeshi, and he complimented me, sayin' you're a nice man, it's difficult to get foreigners like you these days. Back to the point. What are we looking for? Sushma Swaraj's rights? Will she vote in Bangladeshi election? Should she control the Pakistani politics? Is she the one to decide who will come in power in the White House? Donald Trump. Asra Nomani. Nomani is a Muslim reformer, who voted for Trump. Mina Farah is a Bangladeshi feminist who advocates Bangladesh Jamat-e-Islami. Farah voted for Trump.

Here again, this two trump voters are different. Nomani is rather from the Israeli table of the politics. I remember her Facebook post, asking to 'vote for Nazi'. Nazi was a Muslim woman, not the German Nationalsocializmus Party. The post was hilarious, more hilarious than the lady Clinton whose name begin with an H. Asra Nomani kept calling it 'Beloved Yoga'. Well, it's absolutely fine to love Yoga. It's an exercise. I completely understand the sentiment. I know how the flower smells like, if your Yoga seat is in the garden. But she was saying it at a time when Yoga was taking lives in Delhi, Gujarat and other Indian states. BJP used it in their poster, the way it uses classical Indian dance pictures to justify their fascism. We've been reading in the Bangladeshi media that Hilary should have been the President of United States solely because she's a woman. Is that enough? Does your gender auto-qualify you for a very crucial, very important post like that? I'm not saying things wouldn't have been better or worse if Hilary came to power instead of Trump. I'm saying that just because Virginia Woolf once fought for Women's rights and now feminism itself is a commodity in today's world doesn't mean your not-a-he identity auto-qualifies you for something. Trump's party itself has women as well. I'm not into American politics, so I'm skipping the hazard to find out their names for now. Back to the point again. Bangladeshi media is comparing Hilary Clinton with Sheikh Hasina, though Hilary is rumored to be a chief patron of Muhammad Yunus. Hasina was giving Yunus a not-so-enjoyable time a while ago. So, what are we looking for? The right of Indian women in Bangladesh? Or the right of Bangladeshi women in their country? There is no reason to think Bangladeshi women have a say in political affairs. They don't. Khaleda Zia was a Prime Minister because she was Ziaur Rahman's better half, her party chose her as their leader. Hasina is the Prime Minister because she is the daughter of Sheikh Mujib. That is all she has. Her father. That is the landscape and boundary of her world. Nothing else has a chance of existing there, unless it's about she and her father.   Other than Khaleda Zia, the Bangladeshi social media was having its women's hour where the women involved are BNP. There was Afroja Abbas, there was this 25-or-something-years-old Sansila Jerin Prianka - both complaining about how Awami men are treating them. Still I remember I joined a protest demanding Khaleda Zia's immediate release last year. The same day was Women's Day. The Awami-sponsored feminists did everything in their ability excepting physically attacking the BNP protesters. The Awami police was there to perform that job. Awami-sponsored firebrand women were right beside our rally. Their microphone was louder. They were shouting louder. It was Women's Day, and they were proving their point why Khaleda Zia should be kept in jail. By yelling in a higher pitch with their loudspeakers. That is as hilarious as it gets. 

But my point is different.

If you give Indian women what they want, you will have to deprive Kashmiri women of what they want.

If you give Israeli women what they want, you will have to deprive Palestinian women of what they want.

If you give BJP women what they want, you will have to deprive Congressi 'Jihadi didis' of what they want. Asiya Andrabi and Asra Nomani can not work together. Even if their names begin with the same letters. No matter how we wish for it, reality is something else. BNP itself had a woman candidate this time, Hasina Ahmed. Ahmed or whatever. Her name too, was Hasina. This Hasina from BNP too was attacked by Awami Hasina party.

So, who is our girl? Hasina or Khaleda Zia? If one stays in power, the other will stay in jail. It's as simple as that. The issue is definitely not about feminism. The 'Sarkari Feminism', which went to it's worst when Masuda Bhatti, a supporter of Awami League requested to arrest a man who was talking against the government - is all about 'Sarkari' women's rights. Sarkari means Government endorsed. The reality is, our world does have women who are not 'Sarkari', who talk against the Government. What about their rights? What about the Non-Sarkari feminists?

Sheikh Hasina was congratulated from her patron countries, which includes both India and Saudi. If it was not for her, I myself wouldn't have been talking about so many Indian women here. These Saudi fascists, who are treated as notorious in the world stage at the moment for killing Jamal Khasoggi, and those Indians from a different religion, hated in Bangladesh by the Bangladeshi people for ruining our democracy... They are clearly Hasina's favorite, and vice versa. They are aiding her to execute her plans. After the last 30th December, which was two days ago - we know Khaleda Zia is destined to take her last breath in jail. She will not live for long. She is not going to make it.

This systematic murder of the opposition party is happening right in front of the world. World does nothing about it. Bangladeshis have serious conclusions about the world media. Even when it criticizes Hasina, we know it is going to praise her sooner or later. Somebody in the media from either US or Britain has called it 'a choice between Freedom and Prosperity.' Freedom, being a mostly Israeli table's word these days, is about Khaleda Zia right now. Prosperity, is about Sheikh Hasina. This type of headlines gives Hasina the credit, which she doesn't deserve. There are beggars in Kuala Lumpur. But not a lot. However, beggars are a third world phenomena most of the times. Bangladesh, is full of beggars. What the BNP-Jamat women have gathered from recent events is, Hasina was bribing the corrupt police system in Bangladesh. After the election, it turned out that the Army is just as corrupt as police there. If Hasina makes them happy, she stays in power. She even said that loud, I'm quoting her exact words here: 'take bribe from Jamat-BNP, vote Awami'. This is her model of the country, which is Bangladesh. So, what about other women?

There are women in Bangladesh who hate their Prime Minister. Sharing the gender identity with her makes them feel more disgusted.

There are women in BNP.

There are women in Congress, though they too, have patronized Awami League, in historical times.There are women in PTI. Everybody is not a Reham Khan. Everybody doesn't talk negatively about their ex-husband if he becomes the Prime Minister.

There are women in Kashmir. Mehbooba Mufti, Asiya Andrabi and many others. They too are fighting each other to make Kashmir free from India.

There are women in Palestine who might not agree with Gal Gadot. If Gadot takes the lead role in 'Wonder Woman', that is definitely troublesome for the entire world. 

Fighting women with women, feminism with feminism, problem with problem - is rather difficult. In today's world, things are definitely changed. Today's world is not like what it used to be a hundred years ago. More or less, women have different kind of rights. But the world is not a gender war. Women are still getting engaged to men, bridal shops are still in business. Lesbian marriages are a different topic. We are fighting a war against fascism, which is definitely not about gender. Just because you are a man does not auto-qualify you for President's post in the White House, the same thing goes for Hilary with her gender. Everybody expected a surprise. Like Barack Obama was the Black President, the world thought we are going to get a female President. That will happen sooner or later, when you are more qualified than your male counterpart. In Hilary's case, the American people's votes went for Trump.

The Bangladeshi people's votes, everybody knew, were for Khaleda Zia this time. The whole election has been rigged, hilariously. BNP, the second largest political party in Bangladesh with at least 80 million supporters out of 180 something, barely got six seats. Hasina is back to the office again, like I saw in a youtube ad which was auto-promoted, 'the prosperity burger is back'. In reality, fascism is back. I saw that ad before the election and after reading that headline, which claimed it is a choice between freedom and prosperity in Bangladesh.

It's not a choice between genders.

It's not He vs. She.

That ‘gender war’, nobody is fighting. Excepting a few radical feminists. If women now eliminates men/the whole male species go extinct, the world will get destroyed. That will be the apocalypse day. But if the choice becomes She vs. She, which ‘she’ will you choose?

What about the other woman, from the other political party?

Asif Tamoso

02 January 2019

[wionews]

Why India should side with Bangladesh and not Myanmar on the Rohingya issue

Apparently, it’s quite unnatural for Bangladesh and India not to be close allies, especially with India's involvement in Bangladesh's War of Independence of 1971. And then, of course, there are the unique cultural similarities and geographical realities with regards to common Ganges-Bramhaputra plain that runs through both the countries. Despite the overt Hasina-Modi bonhomie, the political reality is, however, very different. Bangladesh's relations with India can best be described as a loose friendship with hidden mutual mistrust and suspicion. 

The lack of trust between the two countries comes forth more in the context of Bangladesh-Myanmar tussle on persecution and expulsion of  Rohingyas from Arakan. 

The tensed Bangladesh –India relationship stems from a variety of issues, such as ‘equitable sharing of all common river water, terrorist camps and migration.

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The prime deficiency of India’s South Asia policy has been its obsession with Pakistan. Only recently a separate desk has been introduced for Bangladesh, Sri Lanka and Nepal in the Ministry of External Affairs at the South Block of Raisina Hills in New Delhi. Pakistan became important for its nuisance value while India failed to see the constructive value of the rest, especially Bangladesh which is already the 31st largest economy in the world with more than 6 per cent average economic growth in the last couple of decades. Courtesy the economic growth, the western world has come to view Bangladesh as one of the ‘Next Eleven’. Bangladesh has come to develop relations with the west, Japan, Middle-East and China and derived great economic benefits out of those relations. 

The tensed Bangladesh –India relationship stems from a variety of issues, such as ‘equitable sharing of all common river water, terrorist camps and migration. Since 1996 gradual progress has been achieved by Bangladesh and India to address some of these issues. Bangladesh has destroyed the dens the Indian rebels made along Bangladesh - India borders and proactively searched and sealed all channels of logistics and arms supply to these rebels. Bangladeshi intelligence agencies are also blocking ISI or its proxies’ probable operations against India from Bangladeshi soil.  

Geo-politically, in South Asia and beyond, there are several areas where an alliance between the India and Bangladesh could have brought good mutual dividend and uphold some great IR principles. One such area is Pakistan’s export of terrorism and Islamic radicalism. Both India and Bangladesh are affected by that.   

Myanmar on the other hand hardly has any principled position. It is buying good numbers of multi-role fighter aircraft from Pakistan, the regional hub of Islamic terrorism, giving a boost to Pakistani military industry and technology. These are made through the collaboration between Pakistan and China, Myanmar’s closest ally and India’s geo-strategic nemesis. In this context, it’s difficult to make sense as to why India is siding with Myanmar in its dissension with Bangladesh on an acute humanitarian crisis like Rohingya. 

It’s difficult to make sense as to why India is siding with Myanmar in its dissension with Bangladesh on an acute humanitarian crisis like Rohingya. 

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Apart from the principle and propriety angle, India hardly gains anything from Myanmar. India can’t match the kind of investment China made in Myanmar. 

A further irony is, lacs of  Indians were expelled from Myanmar like the Rohingyas in the fifties and sixties. The remaining ones and later migrant Indian in Myanmar are still abused in that country with racial slur 'Kala’. The Myanmar Indians falls in the same absurd 1982 citizenship law as Rohingyas. Myanmar is always likely to be on China's side despite India’s disgraceful pampering. 

On the other hand, India has much to lose not by standing by Bangladesh’s side at the time of its need both in comparative and absolute terms.  Bangladesh might again lean more towards the Islamic bondage rather than the subcontinental one. If Islamic solidarity is revived on this issue, India’s massive stake in the Middle East might even be harmed for its direct or indirect support in Rohingya genocide and expulsion. 

It seems some of PM Modi’s strategic advisors have gone bonkers with anti-Muslim preoccupation and very weak Rohingya terrorism stories. Because of them, soon India might find herself on the wrong side of geopolitics and history. Bangladesh did a balancing act between concerns of India and interest of China by postponing China’s proposal for a Sri Lanka and Pakistan like the development of a deep sea port in Sonadia of Chittagong. Now, it’s a payback time for India and an opportunity for it to befriend Bangladesh for the long term by strongly being by the latter’s side in this crisis. 

If India is strongly by the side of Bangladesh now, much of the remaining  Indo-Bangla mistrust in the relationship will be gone, and Bangladeshi people, as well as the political forces, will appreciate the value of India’s friendship immensely. It will bring a defining shift in Bangladesh-India relation for a very long term.  The question is whether PM Modi is ready for an in-depth strategic re-assessment and would his policy strategists allow him to do that?

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