#champak

[pandemic-info]

Not a paid ad (I wish, see cons). Just want to tell you about Champak N95s because I love them and hope they will continue to be available. (Other favs mentioned: 3M Aura 9210+ N95, Bluna Face Fit KF94, Breatheteq KN95 small)

PROS:

NIOSH N95 With good fit-test results. E.g.: https://youtu.be/iIOumUsvUfs?si=L46SfoZlgvNpewWd&t=289

Comfortable & breathable AF Even vs Breatheteq. The straps are a soft, microfiber-y material that doesn't hurt, doesn't dig into your ears over time, and doesn't get caught in hair. They're also adjustable with the plastic bit.

Easy, fast don/doff The sliding straps make it so easy and fast, similar to ear loops.

Fits small heads! Most masks are way too big or leak in various places. 3M Auras are the best fit for me (narrow & small face, tall nose bridge). The Medium Champak (PC520M) fits just as well as Aura and, due to its shape, the seal around the face even feels better. The thick nose pad is also great, no leakage. They also have a large size!

CONS:

Expensive (relatively) A friend recommended these and kindly shared one to try. I held off buying my own for a long time because they're kind of expensive: $45 after shipping for 15 masks = $3/mask. Compared to a 20-pack of 3M Aura 9210+ for $30. But after using my own for a few months, with all of the PROS above, it's the only mask I like to use anymore. (I still opt for 3M Aura 9210+ in unsafely-crowded situations just because I feel more comfortable with one that's tried, tested, and proven its efficacy for me multiple times.) We bought from PurCel Labs, good experiences: https://client.purcellabs.com/n95-masks/Champak-NIOSH-N95-Face-Masks-PC520M

White I get why 3M et. al. don't make N95s in black, but we can still wish. This is pretty much the only plus that black Bluna Face Fit or Breatheteq have over these (and their tri-fold shape is a little nicer). But N95s almost always win out over KF94 ear loops in fit-testing.

[puutterings]

the huge ledgers in the Sanitary Office

  No one had seen him steal out of the home of Harish, he was sure. The gentle little clerk was trusted by the Raj, for no one who marked him puttering over the huge ledgers in the Sanitary Office could dream of the fiery visions of freedom which burned behind those placid eyes...

ex “Champak — A Story of India,” by Irwin Granich and Manabendra Nath Roy, in The Liberator 3:2 (February 1920) : 8-11 (8) : link (pdf)

note : Champak is an evergreen tree “known for fragrance of its flowers, and its timber used in woodworking” ( wikipedia ), and the name of the young prostitute in whose (chaste) company Nanda (“the gentle little clerk”) takes refuge from a spy, while transporting guns to a group of revolutionaries.

Irwin Granich (1894-1967) Jewish-American Communist writer, editor; also known as Mike Gold wikipedia : link author of a notable pan of Gertrude Stein...

Manabendra Nath Roy (1887-1954) Indian revolutionary, philosopher, Marxist and later “radical humanist,” “founder of the Mexican Communist Party and the Communist Party of India;” amazing peripatetic career (brings Tan Malaka to mind) wikipedia : link

and then there was his wife (until 1927), Evelyn Trent (1892-1970) — 382  

[disaster-j]

Tell me why they put books in the vending machine at work

[octobersunkiss]

oh i saw u already did flowers!! top 5 plants then 🌿

- orange jessamine

- indian head cactus

- mandevilla sanderi

- champak

- devil's backbone

[omochi-freedom]

Wonderful Me!💙🌼🐶😊

A children's book for which I did the cover and inside cover illustrations has been published.

The book is an anthology of 24 stories published in Champak, a popular children's magazine in India.

I illustrated it with the hope that children will realize their inner selves, love all emotions, and enjoy life freely💫

[robin1729]

living in the moment ft. my dad

I have always had my head in the clouds, a little bit? I have spent my entire life lost in stories. It started with those magazines they have for kids. Champak, Magic Pot, Tinkle. Then it moved to novels for kids. Secret Seven, Famous Five, anything Enid Blyton really. Then Fantasy. Percy Jackson, Harry Potter, Artemis Fowl. Then as we grew older, the classics. Pride and Prejudice, Oliver Twist, Black Beauty. I was the kid who always had his nose in a book. In our substitute periods, my friends would be calling my name and I simply wouldn't hear them because that's how engrossed I was. I would be walking down the stairs with my head in a book and people would warn me that I am going to fall, and I would tell them (with a bit of pretentious snobbiness, I have to admit) that I had been doing this shit since I was 6.

Then came college, and like a lot of people I shifted to shows and movies. How I met your mother, Parks and Recreation, New girl. The same thing happened. My eyes were now always glued to my phone screen. I watched with so much concentration and watched the same things so many times I ended up memorising entire 9 season long shows. I started narrating movies dialogue-by-dialogue in front of my friends.

My dad didn't help either. He had to see every movie that came out. If too many movies came out in a month, he would bring pirated CDs for 50 rupees each and we would watch them on our tv. He would randomly come in his car in the evenings when me and my brother would be playing with our friends, roll down his windows, and say "Get in the car, we are going to the theater." Our friends would watch with childish jealousy as we just randomly up and went to see a movie. We wouldn't even check what was in the theaters that week. We would just get there and sit for whatever was starting in the next 15 minutes. I have seen so many sequels without watching the original?

Somewhere in all of this, I think I lost some sense of reality. I would be writing novels in my head. And no, not just outlines. I would be sitting on the dining table, writing them in my head sentence-by-sentence as I ate my food, mouthing dialogues that my characters would speak in the way they would speak them and not realise what I was doing until my brother pointed it out. That must have been creepy for him, to say the least. Suddenly I am 23 and life is more complicated than in any book, show, or movie I had ever read or seen. People on LinkedIn talking about the best investments and wanting to build careers and customer service strategies and I find it so hard to care sometimes??

Why can't I just be happy that my friend Hagrid has come back from Azkaban where he was wrongfully imprisoned for being the heir of Slytherin and that Gryffindor has won the house cup again? But noooo, I have to make excel sheets, and powerpoint presentations, and think of the best way to automate our processes. The real world is so, so boring.

My dad, somehow though, lives in both these worlds. He still watches every hindi movie and show that comes out. But never gets too attached. He really just watches them for simple entertainment and then doesn't get obsessed??? what a maniac?? He doesn't even remember plots of movies he saw two weeks back. And I remember movies I saw when I was 15 like I saw them yesterday. Whenever we talk, I want to talk about astronomy, and philosophy. About how tiny and insignificant we are in space and time, about thought experiments. And he never has anything to say about any of those things. He just nods and listens. "I don't really think about this stuff," he says. He has experienced way more stories than I have, and yet his head stays on the ground. If it's not something that affects him here and now, in the real world, he doesn't wanna hear about it. Who cares if wormholes can exist or not, when it's not affecting his life in any way?

And like, I get it. Life already throws so many things in your way; why add to it, right? He keeps his head clear, focuses only on the present, and on what is directly in front of him. A simple man. And on some level, I admire that. And I have been trying to be like that. But I don't want to lose my passion for stories, for things like the universe and different theories of ethics.

There's this very young businesswoman and internet personality I admire, and she is a great speaker. She always comes across as very confident and very sure of herself. And she was asked in an event how she deals with any failures or setbacks. And she said that she has learnt to regulate her emotions, so that she doesn't get too happy when something goes her way, and she doesn't get too sad when something doesn't.

Isn't that... kind of sad? It broke my heart, to be honest. I wanna be madly happy when something goes my way, dude. I wanna party and feel like I am on top of the world and that I am invincible. Moderating your emotions sounds like dulling the human experience.

Like always, I don't know what the answer is. But right now I am a little tired of feeling too much, of thinking too much. So I am going to try my dad's approach for a while, and let you know how it goes.

[encoreabj]

only champak chacha can only solve matter of Lawrence and salman now

[urtmblrgf]

champak chacha from tmkoc is my spirit animal

[bollywoodirect]

32 Years of #Khiladi (05/06/1992)

Khiladi is an action suspense thriller film directed by Abbas Mustan. Written by Naeem-Ejaz and Aadesh K. Arjun (dialogues), with a story by S. Khan, the film marked #AkshayKumar's breakthrough role and also stars Ayesha Jhulka, Deepak Tijori, Sabeeha, Prem Chopra, Shakti Kapoor, Anant Mahadevan, and Johnny Lever.

Produced by Girish Jain and Champak Jain, Khiladi features cinematography by Thomas A. Xavier and editing by Hussain A. Burmawala. The music for the film was composed by Jatin–Lalit, with lyrics by Mahendra Dehlvi, Dev Kohli, and Anwar Sagar.

Khiladi was the first installment in the Khiladi film series, which featured "Khiladi" in the title and Akshay Kumar in the leading role. It was followed by Main Khiladi Tu Anari (1994), Sabse Bada Khiladi (1995), Khiladiyon Ka Khiladi (1996), Mr. and Mrs. Khiladi (1997), International Khiladi (1999), Khiladi 420 (2000), and Khiladi 786 (2012).

The film was remade in Kannada as Aata Hudugaata.

[imperfectorange]

Ornaments of Hindi

I think I’ve known Hindi ever since I could talk. That sounds so sensible that it almost doesn’t. I say that not only because it is my mother tongue but also because I’ve lived with Hindi; with Champak and Bal Bhaskar in the morning and because I’ve ended my days with Dinkar wishing for a jhingola.

Hindi poetry has its roots in the rasas of Sanskrit and in the wit of Śaursenī Prākrit’s jesters. Somewhere along the way it met with Apabhraṃśa to become what it is today.

It is hard to define poetry. It is even harder to put it in a box of an “ism”. It is everywhere; in a way that you cannot live without it and in another where it consumes you.

On a personal level, I think it was Muktibodh whose mark on Hindi poetry is incomparable.

Gajanan Madhav ‘Muktibodh’ understood melancholy like no other Hindi poet.

One of the pioneers of the Nayi Kavita, Muktibodh was born in present-day Chambal, Madhya Pradesh.

Apart from being a poet and an essayist, he was also a literary and political critic.

I believe, where prayogvad or experimentalism meets nihilism, Muktibodh resides there.

सचमुच मुझे दण्ड दो कि भूलूँ मैं भूलूँ मैं

तुम्हें भूल जाने की

दक्षिण ध्रुवी अंधकार-अमावस्या

शरीर पर,चेहरे पर, अंतर में पा लूँ मैं

झेलूँ मै, उसी में नहा लूँ मैं

इसलिए कि तुमसे ही परिवेष्टित आच्छादित

रहने का रमणीय यह उजेला अब

सहा नहीं जाता है।

नहीं सहा जाता है।

ममता के बादल की मँडराती कोमलता--

भीतर पिराती है

कमज़ोर और अक्षम अब हो गयी है आत्मा यह

छटपटाती छाती को भवितव्यता डराती है

बहलाती सहलाती आत्मीयता बरदाश्त नही होती है !

punish me, make me forget it

make me forget that i ever existed

make me wear

this dark night of the abyss

that our separation is

on my body, my face

make me

live with it

make me

bathe in it

because

i can’t bear with

being surrounded by you

or being smothered

with your love

this grace of your being,

your embrace

leaves me weak

your love scares me

your gentle caress

leaves me gasping for air

The above stanza is from Muktibodh’s poem ‘Saharsh Sweekara Hai’. Here, Muktibodh’s fear of losing his beloved has grown so strong that he only feels safe in her arms. Realising that he has this parasitic relationship with his beloved, he asks her to leave him because now the love he shares with her has started to consume him. The poet feels that he cannot function without her and wants to escape this all-consuming dependence.

The poem is a journey of the poet’s acceptance. As the name suggests and also the first few lines of the poem say, he has accepted everything in life with open arms. As the poem progresses, the poet comes to terms with the love that is consuming him. He tries not to fight it.

We’ve known Subhadra Kumari Chauhan with her poems like ‘Jhansi Ki Rani’ and ‘Jallianwala Bagh Mein Basant’ to have been written primarily in veer rasa, but a large number of her poems have been for children and probably for herself too.

Born on 16th of August 1904 in Prayagraj, Subhadra had started spending time with the likes of Mahadevi Varma early on in her life at school. As her junior at the Crosthwaite Girls' School, Mahadevi too looks back at her time with Subhadra fondly in one of her writings.

‘Kadamb ka Ped’ is one of Subhadra Kumari Chauhan’s

children’s poems.

What separates Hindi children’s literature from the others is its simplicity. It is devoid of references related to outside of the world of its own, like Alice’s isn’t. It is pure.

यह कदंब का पेड़ अगर माँ होता यमुना तीरे।

मैं भी उस पर बैठ कन्हैया बनता धीरे-धीरे॥

on the banks of yamuna, had been this kadamba tree

i could have been krishna, climbing it without a worry

The poem talks about a child’s wish to be like Krishna, teasing and hiding from his mother and finding joys in little things.

The Kadamba tree near Yamuna takes the reader back to the legend of Krishna and Yashoda sitting near the Kadamba tree and her witnessing the cosmos in Krishna’s mouth.

- Trishala

[eenameenadeekaa]

Life went downhill jab se champak comics mei games waale cd milna band ho gaye

[maintohthakgayibhaishaab]

Our society watchman is such a champak chaha 2.0 man

Voh kisi bhi gaadi idhar udhar park ki Hui nahi chalate

Saare strangers ki entry karvana compulsory inko

Jabki hamari sabse chhoti society hai sirf 2 blocks ki 😆

Plus Zomato boys ittne jaldi mein hote hai cuz of time permit. Aur yeh inse time likhvane mein waqt zaaya karte hai roz ka ghamasan hota hai 🤣

[astrosawal1]

Divine Blossoms: The Favorite Flowers of Indian Gods and Goddesses

In the rich tapestry of Indian mythology and spirituality, flowers play a significant role, symbolizing purity, devotion, and divine grace. Let's explore the favorite flowers of some prominent Indian gods and goddesses, each imbued with deep symbolism and revered by millions.

Lotus (Padma): The lotus holds unparalleled significance in Indian culture and spirituality. Revered as the embodiment of purity and enlightenment, it's the favorite flower of numerous deities. Lord Vishnu, the preserver of the universe, is often depicted resting on a bed of lotus petals. Goddess Lakshmi, the symbol of wealth and prosperity, is also associated with the lotus, often depicted seated on a fully blossomed lotus. Moreover, Lord Brahma, the creator, is often depicted emerging from a lotus that springs from the navel of Lord Vishnu. The lotus symbolizes the journey from darkness to light, mirroring the spiritual awakening sought by devotees.

Marigold (Genda): With its vibrant golden hue and aromatic blooms, the marigold holds a special place in Indian religious ceremonies. It is a favorite offering to Goddess Durga during Navaratri, a festival celebrating the triumph of good over evil. The marigold is also associated with Goddess Lakshmi, signifying auspiciousness and prosperity.

Jasmine (Mallika/Mogra): Jasmine, with its delicate white flowers and intoxicating fragrance, is beloved by Lord Krishna, the playful and enchanting deity. It is often used to adorn the idols of Lord Krishna during festivals and rituals, symbolizing devotion and purity of heart.

Tulsi (Holy Basil): Revered as a sacred plant in Hinduism, Tulsi is considered the earthly form of Goddess Lakshmi. It's believed that worshipping Tulsi brings prosperity, health, and spiritual upliftment. The plant is adorned with garlands of its own leaves and flowers, signifying reverence and devotion.

Champak: The Champak flower is associated with Lord Shiva, the destroyer and transformer in the Hindu trinity. Its sweet fragrance is believed to be pleasing to Lord Shiva and is offered in worship to invoke his blessings and grace.

These divine blossoms serve as bridges between the earthly realm and the divine, embodying the spiritual essence of devotion, purity, and grace. Through offerings of these flowers, devotees express their reverence and seek blessings from the gods and goddesses who illuminate the path of righteousness and enlightenment.

[valentinsylve]

Theseus, the betrayer

They sat on the floor in her bedroom, studying the model. A night perfume from the champaca outside wafted in on the air. The rounded tree top poked through the railing on Ariadne's balcony, clustered with flowers: yellow stars and spiders. Her long black hair fell in waves as she leaned over the replica of Daedalus's masterpiece. Some girls have dollhouses, he thought. This chick has a labyrinth. There was a soft batting nose from one of the corners of the room and a pair of green eyes flashed. Ariadne gently lifted a silky black cat out of the darkness. It held a ball of yarn in its muscular arms. She put the cat next to her and unwound the thread. Laying it inside the miniature, she outlined a path to the center, where a Minotaur shaped doll reclined on his back in a cell. Theseus watched her wide and shrewd black eyes concentrate on the puzzle, while the cat stalked the string. ... It was a meaningless, lateral depth, with no redemption or solution, he later told her. Despite their expectations, there was no learning to come from it, only experience. Pure and rough experience. Raw and sensitive like stomach lining, and undigested. Severed, like the massive truncated head he held by the horns. Back in her bedroom, after hauling himself out of the tunnel, he laid on the floor with his trophy before her. Ariadne stood over him like a giant, her brow knitted and hair undulating like thick black curtains. At the fraying edges of consciousness he sensed the champak flowers pushing against the red perfume of blood and guts. But botany was no match for meat, he thought, and passed out.