#truck sizes in india

[careindiapackers]

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[poetessinthepit]

It's amazing how many people are incredibly uncharitable towards Palestinians and Arabs in general. I can recall this one video on YouTube where an Israeli guy is asking a handful of Palestinians what they think of Hitler; it's hardly scientific. The majority of Palestinians interviewed in the video have an unfavorable view of Hitler. One guy specifically says Hitler was evil because he burned jews. There are a few of them who say positive things, but then the translator makes it clear that they are joking or being sarcastic. Only 1 or 2 people in this video say good things about Hitler in seriousness.

While that is alarming and no one should be praising Hitler, I think you'd sadly find similar answers in any area of the world where people do not get a decent education on WW2, the holocaust, Hitler, etc. For example, when I was in India, I saw a pack of cigarettes at a truck stop called Hitler cigarettes. My assumption was not India is full of nazis but that there is ignorance about who Hitler was in India ( hindu nationalists/modi supporters are actually comparable to nazis, but that's another convo).

Even with this minute sample size, the video hardly confirms the popular Israeli narrative that Palestinians are nazified people. Yet, if you only read the comments in the video and you didn't watch it, you'd think the opposite was true.

Many of the comments say the video is terrifying and chilling and proof that Palestinians don't want peace/hate jews/are nazis. Some say that even the Palestinians who called Hitler "bad" or "evil" or a "tyrant" are just lying for the camera, and you can tell by their body language. Commenters who don't speak a lick of Arabic insist that in the cases where the translator says the interviewee is not being serious, the translator is whitewashing the answers. Apparently, arabs incapable of joking. If somebody randomly came up to me on the street and asked me, "Do you think Hitler was good?",I can imagine easily laughing and sarcastically saying,"No, he was a good guy. " Maybe not if someone shoved a camera in my face, but I have an awareness of how things could be misconstrued that these people most likely do not.

And I'm not saying there is no antisemitism in Palestine,that would be ridiculous, but it's interesting to me that Israelis can say the most explicitly anti-arab racist shit and people will go out of their way to not see it for what it is, but a Palestinian can clearly state say Hitler was evil man because he burned jews and people will insist that their body language reveals they are a secret nazi.

I might remember some of the details wrong, but I'm just spitballing about something I vaguely remember.

[countriesgame]

Please reblog for a bigger sample size!

If you have any fun fact about Pakistan, please tell us and I'll reblog it!

Be respectful in your comments. You can criticize a government without offending its people.

[skagheart]

Born to Die

hey, so, basically, i was writing this fanfiction called born to die based upon kurt cobain and an original character called nirvana lacey anhedönia and, well, i never finished it and i think i’ve lost the inspiration to. but, i still want it to see the light of day because i think it’s beautiful (sort of). so, here we are.

Gibson Girl.

1480 words.

July 6, 1981.

Aberdeen.

Washington.

[ You wanna… ]

Lovelace.

That’s what I’m fucking carving into my arm. With that oh-so-American size of the knife, the cut was deep and my handwriting as unhinged as it could be, probably and possibly worse than the cruel (upon me!) variety of forms it takes; like it was in my journal (I’ve always adored the copulation of the words probably and possibly as it tends so well to my seeming lack of sincerity and existential confusion), but worse, worse. Tingling all over I was in not an aroused, sexual way—but in the way it tingles when the high becomes scary, when the swirly faces start to scratch at you and when your belly feels scarily pregnant (everyone whom I know wants children; I wonder, am I sociopathic or a prophetess? Probably both, they’re primarily synonymous anyway). I knew so damnéd well I was addicted to this shit, the little, translucent, hallucinatory blotters (I prefer ’em trippy on both the outside and in, and pink; but I’m an addict! I’ll take whatever anyways) I get by shaking my ass to the guy whose name I do not wish to have my married brain clouded with. He still cut into my head like the knife that was working with all it’s effort and my inputs carving that v on my plump, ripe forearm. I was addicted as fuck; and I fucking loved it. At the very fucking least, I was pumping out poems like a heroine of the fifties. It’s what it was: the fifties had Sylvia Plath and the eighties had me. Downright iconic. The blood by now—I felt like a lamb, but I knew I was the dragon—was flooding my lap on which that forearm of mine was settled. I apologise if my writing, grammer, thoughts, anything else is fucked up in this or don’t make sense—I’m drugged up into Cloud Nineteen (ten blotters, two packs of Marlboro Reds over this evening).

I know I sound fucking insane and I probably am, and I treat myself to pain Virgin Mary couldn’t have dreamt off—but, I promise I’m not mean. Just a hard, excessive exterior and a tight, eager posterior in this dollhood of mine. Does that even make sense…? I don’t fucking know shit… “Ah, fuck…” I whispered with the most disappointing one I could muster when I fucked up the second l of Lovelace.

Lovelace, Lovelace… Great, I have to recall him.

The fucker who got me into this.

Norwegian trucker in India who was friends with my greaser pa, Norman Anhedönia, called Gibson Lovelace. The chap had forty years worth of oxygen wasted in his shallow breathing (he always breathed shallow, even when he came; I had noticed), a nine-incher monster of a dick, pedophilia, a drunkard wife and an obsession with me. I’d always been what Nabokovian terms would term nymphet, and I do say I’m split on it. I’m a shit daughter and a demon child, or am I? Maybe I’m just depressed and suicidal, or I’m fucking divine and the reincarnation of Eve meant to meet her Adam through a senseless act of violence upon myself (I didn’t know at the time, but I was fucking foreshadowing; go me.). Every girl needs a senseless act of violence properly upon herself but rarely upon the other to discover her one and only cult leader.

Anywho, Gibson led me into his truck away from my father who was too busy cleaning his shades listening to Elvis on the records: January of ’77, I was seven going to turn eight in the November of that year. He fucked me raw, smashed my head so hard into the steering wheel that I bled (I was questioning too much), kissed my cuts and made me promise I wouldn’t pick up a knife again but didn’t do shit about what I actually felt; he told me to stick my tongue out and placed this thin translucent sheet of pink from a little booklet he kept in his glovebox. And I decided that I loved it. I’m at fault, I’m at fault… Fuck Waheguru.

I’m finished. I squeezed my arm as hard as I could, the blood spraying over the marble floor (I had tucked the rug away; I can’t let Mumma see). My incisors with the utmost force to keep my vocal chords at bay dug into my chapped bottom lip and drew blood there too. It trickled down to my chin and came to nirvana at my lap resting amongst the other red molecules; it left a ferric taste on the tip of my tongue, slightly bitter and quite sweet. Bittersweet. Blood, blood, blood, blood, blood… Blood, everywhere. Gibson would’ve rubbed it all over my nipples and told me to lick it up like it was his sperm all over my asscheeks or, well, just cheeks. I did have quite big tits for an almost twelve-year-old, I must admit… I’ve always had more estrogen and my estrogen was also more sensitive: susceptible. Susceptible to manipulation, fuckery, religion, what not… Finally, I could fucking feel something except for the stimuli of my g-spot and the irritation in my nostrils that still blossomed when I chainsmoked indoors or that itching feeling in me when I go too much time without my LSD. I have this delusion that I only pump men good or pump out good stuff when I’m pumped on those little squares: He said that LSD would be good for me when I told him that I write; I’ve been pumpin’ poetry for my baby ever since. I hate children, and I sincerely wish that all babies die alongside their parents and the doctors and the nurses and the medical’s parents and me…

My disorders kicked in (Borderline Personality Disorder, majorly untreated) and I fucking panicked. After so much shit, I fucking panicked. Panicked. Jumping up almost to slam my head to the sink I was cutting up like ham under, I had to hold onto the sink to make myself stand actually. I slowly experienced my hand creep up to switch on the faucet (like Gibby did to the faucet in my eyes everytime he crossed my neurocircuitry) and my other arm (I’m right-handed) creep to wash the blood from Lovelace off. Thankfully, I had a few bottles of peroxide, a pack of Reds, a babydoll dress all set up, razor and men’s shaving cream, my skincare, makeup—all of that set up, and the shower prepped as well. Today, I was to die.

The same year as Gibson’s arrival to me, I spiralled and ended up flinging my curvy body down the roof of some pretentious hotel in Seattle. I didn’t die, unfortunately. Then, well, I was transferred to a crazy people place for four years until I got out in March of ’81 (this year!) equally, if not more, fucked up. I had glowed so much surrounded by my little hellspawns, my creatures... My paradise is dying in the arms of nobody. But, I couldn’t care when the blotters kicked in and helped my cerebrum in distorting so fucking shittily my face into some eldritch horror that passed the likes of werewolves mid-transformation and golems. I giggled manically at the twistings of my eyes into the hair and my ears into halo, my mouth stretched through the giggle was transmuted to the petrified image of a dog and a lady and what fucking not. Oh, I need my pen… Pen, pen, pen, pen,... pen!

The lad

I tried to write into the journal page I had kept open on the small settee of my bathroom that I had also made sure to drip some of my essence onto (not like that, pervs; the blood, I’m saying) but my mouth wouldn’t co-operate with my cerebellum or my cerebrum. The giggles just wouldn’t stop and they just got more and more distorted like guitars fitted into amps and amps and shredding. I fell back on the ground, it cushioned by my ass, and held my head in my arms, shaking my head as if to curate outside of my all the fogginess and to shake out of my trip. I wanted to write, write! Not whatever the fuck this was. My eyes were squeezed so hard, I was crying. And, I couldn’t fucking stop laughing like a shitshow.

“Oh, God, stop, stop, stop, just fucking stop…!” Hadn’t even realised I was sobbing but in that moment that epiphany hit me like a freight train (whatever the fuck a freight train is; I just picked up on the writing tool from whatever I read using this). My arm was still bleeding, smearing blood over my cheeks; my lip was still cut from my teeth, bleeding the smaller bits too; I was shaking like a fucking banyan leaf in the rainstorms of Wash.

• • •

Strangers.

5010 words.

July 6, 1981.

Aberdeen.

Washington.

[ Don’t talk to strangers, or you might fall in love ]

Even the isolation, deprave, and mesophilia of our fucked-up, Lacey, crazies hospital was better than this drenched, little town. What was better than any of those two fucking disasters, though, was my stance on the railway tracks. Sittin’ there like teke-teke, waitin’ for my gorgeous guts to be smashed over, destroyed, violated, clawed out by the grinders of the train. I’d never seen starry nights—the ladies at Lacey would never have enough testicles to let me watch a shooting star and hope that it crash into me, the fuckin’ meteorite. My years at Cawnpore already were quite less in number, and it eternally was too polluted for us to see something more than the dhruv star and a few other killers; I’d never seen starry nights. According to this astronomical magazine I picked up while the nurses took us out to the local stores of Lacey for us teenage girls to detoxify our battlefields for minds, today was a meteor shower and I was thoroughly intrigued by blazing space rocks in the skies, so I bluffed and fucked my way out of the hospital. My egg and sperm donors did not believe for a major nanosecond that I was cured. At two years of pained age, I was standing in the middle of the gray-like-me roads, conscious of the act; at four, I burnt my pierced earlobe on purpose, using the steam-fuelled iron to; at six, any blade I pranced upon would find it’s metallic way to scent the room in the aroma of my equally metally blood, I only wished for one to kiss those marks and draw about them, to be what the lyre was to Apollo; at eight, this curvy brain of mine finally snapped into her hemispheres and told me to fling my curvy body down the highest story of our hotel. At eight, my suppliers abandoned their Catholic mistake of a dolly into a mental hospital in my Americana birthplace, Lacey.

There, I morphed myself like the blesséd Phoenix, curse, profanity I am into The Mother. Mother Lace, Mother Nirvana, Messiah of thee, and the literary combo of Three. One of the only times I shall ever cherish are my years with those six girls… My girls: my loves, only ones who would ever succeed in enveloping me with so much heat that the outward exterior, the exoskeleton of middle fingers and catty hisses, melts into a puddle of rot beneath me and the inner delicacy of my wretched fragility and mortality is on display for all those mental fuckers to eat.

Needless to say…, I missed my bundle of little women, my packets of compressed, oppressed joy. So, I lay there longing with my arms stretched onward craving hiraeth in the Heavens—now that I look back, it never was hiraeth. I knew exactly what my home was: the browned mental hospital where I spent four formative years of my Jim Morrison's life in. I longed for the hug of my collected daughters, their soft digits brushing my hair as they softly inquired escape from the hellhole I promised to save them from. My girls... I loved them, like the mother they never received. I had promised, I had promised… I was a betrayer. What mother to those girls…

On instinct I experienced my hands reach to the crown of my head, relief coursing through my blood the moment a thorn stung me. Their entity had crafted for me a crown of thorns to relish me as their Lady and Saviour. I did feel blood seep from the pinch, but I stuck my finger between my lips and thrashed my tongue around, gazing at the dying glows of the starry night.

I pretended to be Jesus.

I am Judas, or am I?

I don’t even know what I’m writing. You’re hallucinating while interpreting strange symbols written left-to-right in lead and antimony compounds upon thin, delicate tablet-like structures made of tree sap, so I guess we two are never too far apart in our crazy.

Well, to them (my girls: Laine Jean Ray, Bonita Ana Dios, Aurora May-Belle Long, Theresa Midge Check, Verbena de Baïa Voisin, Margaret Sarah Check), I still remain Yeshua. Yet, I feel a wolf in lamb’s skin as myself; a panther in the throes of the night sky that I stare emptily, tearily, upon. I fake it so real, I am beyond fake (translation: you people are fucking dumb).

In my convulsing tubule of thoughts birthed by my cerebral quality, I failed in my life to notice movement, possibly a metre from me. I was laid over the railway track like a corpse, eyes empty yet body warm for no reason at all. It truly seems bizarre how the movement noticed me neither—maybe dissolved so much in the grief were they that they were as heady as me, as crazy as I! Trapped inside the fever dream of their own thoughts, vowed to never spit it out, bit tongues and summertimes spent in clawing bedsheets and clamping hands over the own lips so as to refrain from the awareness that might spread. That might say…: I am iron. I am usable, extremely so. Exploit me, as if you have not already. Though, I might have not warneth thou… I rot as vigorously as I am used, keep me out in the world and I will break down and become ash of myself. In the velvet night, a puff of air as a sigh crawled out of me, liquid dripping down the corneas of I, ruining not the night (this was to be, I planned to die today for fuck’s sake) but my precious mascara and eyeliner. Oh, how I worked on that lining to accentuate my inherited, unwanted, auto-appreciated felinity. I’d be the prettiest girl in the morgue.

Someday you will ache like I ache.

Anyhow, the shower from the atmosphere had concluded a few minutes prior. And, well, finally, the train I was waiting for to scramble and crumble my guts into nothing but wasted potential, like I already was, had arrived… Only, it arrived wrong. It ran over the steel beside me, beside us (counting in the movement I am). A severe monsoon bummer filled my chest, the void in my heart had been concealed tightly and packed with Lyssa, Eris, what not. I craved to screech at the tyrant Father for his sin, for his fucking disruptive mercy on me—I did not want mercy! I needed death to fuck me like his personal, unpaid, loyal servant-girl; I needed it violent! So, as soon as all registered in my voluminous cerebrum, I recoiled in my pose, resorting to the protection of a foetal position as I screamed out my sobs and muffled them by staining my shaved thighs with my lipstick and drool smelling of minty chew-gum that I chewed last minute, tears of brown-black from my mascara and liner, hitting my head against my knees and punching the bloody rails that I was once moonbathing over until I experienced my knuckles burn and bruise, actual slivers of blood peek through the skin. I continued then too, but was too passionate in my quiet wailing to keep up the aggression.

And, thence, I swiped my tears with my bleeding knuckles, unrealising in my little girl’s misery of the fact, and smeared blood over my eyes and mascara over my blood. By some distance, I could hear some twigs crunching, maybe it was the movement I hadn’t noticed beforehand. When I did notice in that current moment, fear struck my gut like Cupid’s arrow when I had seen Priscilla Presley for the first time in forever. Naturally, a response occurred within the fatty mass of electric muscle in my head and I recoiled within myself, burying my face in my knees that I had pulled to my tits, only my eyes blinking up like a defensing cat—if I had been a cat, my pupils would have shrunken to that reptilian, creepy glare. I saw that the thing was lighting a cigarette, my cravings relit alongside (the appearance of the thing was half-revealed in the dim spark).

Stupidly as I ever could be, I murmured from my coil, “Do you have a light?” However softly I did speak, the boy did hear because it was the death of the night in wherever we were, the railroad was as quiet as could be with the crickets around chirping and inaudible bats may or may not be sauntering about. Dim moonlight that I somedays worshipped (as a witch, I did) proved herself, and I saw him. The first predicament was that he’s cute: blond, ice eyes, hopeless swagger, shaky legs. He paused himself in his trek, and slowly but mildly clumsily, turned to see my form. Perhaps cold moonlight proved her importance to hallucinatory pages of dead sap’s inkéd words of feel-good love. Wow, fuck, I went overboard on there. So, he scrutinised me for a moment, squinting to gaze at me carefully.

I’ll never forget what came out of my future husband’s mouth the first time he spoke a single thing to me…: You look very pretty when you’re crying; tears suit you. I don’t think that I can emphasise the moan that was nearly to escape me at that very moment, it was a shockwave of whatever down my spine to my ladyness. My knees dropped to become flat, just legs, and I did acknowledge the gashes in my doll heart bleeding so vigorously, it matched my swallowed drool.

“You don’t mean that, you’re drunk.”

His honeyed voice, sort of scratchy as I observed he was pubescent and hormonal in his blue jeans, white striped shirt—walked into the room, you know you made my eyes burn!—and black-y jacket he kept open, pushed me to experience the yayo-type, giggly joy of his chuckle, he shook his head in amuséd denial of his drunkenness. He was poetic, he had a slur, he had his thin lips wrapped around a cigarette—shit, I needed them wrapped around mine… And, I loved it. Why the fuck was I enamoured? “You’re a hypocrite,” He paused for a moment, maintaining that smile. Two distinct holes, punctures in muscle, were noticed by thee truly, myself, at that very moment; I felt my ribcaged heart palpitate. “You’re bawling your eyes out here like Virgin Mary.”

“Oh, fuck me, that’s beautiful.” The moan that was slowly and gradually, steadily and irresistibly, mountaineering up my throat finally escaped in the form of this: *Oh, fuck me, that’s beautiful*. Which, I did mean—how could I not mean *this*? I’m not Lisa Rowe, you buzz (although I wish to be—have you not read the sheer charisma produced from the description Kaysen emits of her? She was definitely the prettiest girl in the morgue!).

Hands of his extended to mine, both, and I took them, shakingly wobbling from my psych-out. I felt drunk. As terror-inducin’ it seems, drugs had exhilarated me, no cock of a man who had money this nymphet had onlooked had been left out, I was such a La Lolita for my crazy desires—but I had never had a swig before. Smelling the booze off my falling, twisted guy as he pulled me up from my literal and mental death—I only knew that my heart was hitting at my sinews, she felt a depraved wanderlust. Some wanderlust it was to, like a man in a Prime Minister pose, mark that free, angel Earth mine with maybe a flag (a tattoo) or a hole (a lovebite), something, somewhat. I held onto his shoulders for both metaphorical and literal support, he held onto the curve of the lower back I possessed, though the fabric of his jackie didn’t benefit friction and he kept slipping his arm off accidentally because, one, he adorned too much weight on; two, the fabircs intermingled like our forms, the cheap satin and whatever the fuck his jacket was made of. “Why am I a hypocrite, though?” I finally asked this little blond dude what had been pestering me (I am not to blame for this worthy-of-disdain obsessiveness, I have Borderline Personality Disorder. I am Cool Girl: I am nothing in my soul if not obsessive) for how millennium long. His ocean eyes matched mine for a moment, and he seemed to think through for a momento before he permitted the giggle of a hyena break out of him: Because you’re pretty when you cry, and I’m not.

“Yes, you are.” No hesitation was laced through me, none of that unaware uncertainty that I usually experienced leaking through my tune when I comforted one of my girls—my girls...—and instead was there an ignorant stubbornness. I was always stubborn, but what the fuck? I, having registered in my still plush cerebrum that my crown of thorns (gifted to me by Laine specifically, although all the girls worked on it) had fallen like my Lucifer when I had risen, thence I bent to grab my status, injuring my already injured hand thus further as the thorns pierced and pricked into my skin. And, I didn’t even cry…

He recoiled almost physically at my olden compliment (remember the first dialogue of the previous paragraphed rambling?) and I was due a breakdown of my psyche in that very singular fraction of a minute when my man suddenly perked up, “I only have this cig,”, changing the subject. Yahweh, my knuckles burnt. I ohed a tiny bit, and chuckled, extending one of my quivering, weak limbs and bending to wrap my lipstickéd lips on the ass of that cigarette, same one he took a drag from not fifteen seconds ago. His Atlantic eyes widened for a twiddling momentous, and, possibly and probably in drunken stupor and marijuana heights of his death wish, he giggled—I physically felt my pupils dilate, what the fuck? Maybe it was the nicotine, maybe it was the aftershocks of my tiny-teeny mental breakdown on the rail, maybe it was hisself… Damn, I think I understood Grant so well in that miniscule moment: Heaven is a place on Earth with you.

The world was built for two.

Delusional, I was convinced that it was us two the moment he grabbed the cigarette from me for his chance, and he examined the matte, messy mark of my lip stamped on it.

With the dumbest smile he could muster in my damnéd opinion, this little, blond, territorial, underdeveloped man adjusted his lips on the exact place I had left my shine, suckling it like it was some part of me. He knew what he was doing, I could pluck it from the glitter in his pretty orbs that told me shit he’d never be able to spit out in our tragic, magic relationship of some thirteen years. We kissed in death like we kissed in that moment, he blew smoke into my mouth and I giggled, almost extracting the alcohol of his from the roof of his mouth as my tongue felt her way around. We parted for perhaps, well, a second (I don’t remember the details, I’m writing this after our wedding sex, 1988. We’re in our flight back to Olympia from Honolulu, and he’s sleeping on my tits), and rejoint as I adjusted the angle to kiss-fuck this virginal Cherub better. “Darling, is this your first?”, he nodded, responsive—to be frank, that was adorable...! I’m pretty sure I squeaked out of sheer kiddy excitement, squeezing the sides of his face (cheeks). My grip migrated to around his neck, form bent for he was teenier than I. I didn’t even know his name and we were kissing in the blue dark…

Parting, I only gazed into his oceanic gaze and breathlessly giggled, “Oh, wow, fuck,... That was…, yeah.” A grand total of seven partners (three females, four males) I had engaged in before this merman, and I had never felt myself stolen of breathe ever in my existence after a mere kiss. Possibly was it the intoxication, the nicotine fucking over my senses so that my taste buds tickled with the enriching experience of his glazed cavern, but was it not thrilling, oh Mary! I had enchanted outward the sweetest giggle, and he in his still stupor snuggled his head inside the curve of my shoulder and chest; he was only that much tall. I was not lanky in any aspect, neither I am still—on the flipside, truth is that my mother repeatedly insisted upon me to not drown in my head and force her to onlook, rather to go outside, soak some tan (I am racially brown, thence I don’t require a tan) and run some. I decline profusely, tangling in blankets again and writing what, if discovered, would have positively filed me into the South Sound Behavioral Hospital yet again for a term not of four years now but of God-knows-how-long.

Eventually, I figured: some other day, this nymph may or may not have only prolonged my life now, and I told myself it. By the railway roads were grasses uncared for (like most daughters were; the human was their mother and the stain’d, tall grasses were the lost), we decided unconsciously to sit by those and talk the dimlight of the night off the clouds, to dawn we conversed. As unbelievable as it may sound considering the turbulence not even Athena might have dreamt of that had plagued the twisty courses of my lifetime, I had not sipped upon the liver eater yet: alcohol! With my newfound darling, that was precisely what I did.

We were dwelling inside uncanny synchronisation with our acts: we looked around at the same time, fixated on the same piece of cement, reached to gasp one another’s hands the same moment. I didn’t flinch, neither did the blond darling. Which..., was quite, well, it was especially choking as I... Usually froze at contact of the physique from someone whom I loved. Around this time, with my drink-induced lover, it felt good.

We curled up by grass, against a gray boulder-like structure, perhaps a part of a rotten or demolished building of some sort, debris. There, I suckled upon the lengthy cancerstick and inquired like an owl: “Why were you here, anyway?” In a casual tone I did, as if it was something so normal that I was nonchalant. “Oh, y’know, to kill myself.” The answer delivered by this sweetness would dwelling in me a day or so afterward (take that very literally) was just as nonchalant, confirming the suspicion conjured by my despaired subconscious that he was just as heady as me, as crazy as me, someone who would rot along me like iron all the while fearing the rot, hiding from something murmuring within thyself and teetering about; aura as a nymphic call and melancholia as the default ring of the mood. GOD is a teenaged girl of grunge and glitter, and I am a doll (soulless, empty, pretty with no matter on the inside yet pretty from the back—it matched!).

“No, no, like, why?” I repeated with an accentuated tone and my regular gestures of hand and eye, “The reason you wanted to kill yourself. I don’t judge, promise.” I shrugged, chuckling a bit as I passed the miniature cancer to him for a drag. “Clearly.” He chuckled too, widening his eyes momentarily to allude to my appearance; as I remember it, that elicited out from me a little giggle. I mean, it was the factual; darling, not lying. A girl; a girl dressed in a pearly babydoll dress with lacy tights (opaque white-like, frilled, a bow on top of each, knee-high) and no footwear with mascara smeared down her face from a clear breakdown of her battlefield for mind, manic brown eyes with a grape-coloured lipstick on pouty heart-shaped lips, blood and dirt also staining her optic area due to her bleeding knuckles from which she punched the steel of the rails because the train did not run over her? Paired alongside the fresh wounds on display littered across that fatty arm of hers? Oh, she was a crazy chick—and I could tell that this little guy loved it. He loved my mania, he loved my blood, he loved my crazy, he loved everything that I loved about myself. Maybe it was his alcohol that urged him this way, but I loved him for he loved what he saw.

But is she pretty on the inside?

“Well,” I spaced back in with the thrill of his voice curling the air around us; I wish we were plunged into steel. Sound travels best in something like steel… What would his voice be in steel? The thought messaged down my spine a shiver. “’s mostly everything about my life. Wouldn’t say I’m addicted, but all I do these days is mope and get high, or drink. I’ve been this since last month. Last year, I saw this… This dead boy who hung himself in the woods. That really affected me, I think; I’ve got suicide genes.” He paused a bit, sighing as he was passed the smokestick again. I puckered up a bit and drew closer to his pretty face, rounding my lips out and pushing out a ring of cigarette smoke. On impulse, he stuck nose through the centre of the dissipating smoke ring which drew from me another giggle—he was just like me! I did that too! I’d never thought someone else would…? What the fuck is going on?

Taking a drag, he then resuméd: “My parents are divorced… I’m really embarrassed of that.” He added a bit hesitantly, I could gauge that he still felt the shame of it all; which perplexed me. A divorce is shameful? How so? It’s a fucking life decision… But, that’s okay because this little one was clearly less mature and emotionally developed than I, although that amount still was remarkable considering his physique and my presumé of his age (which I thought to be elder to me, but still not too much so). “Why?”

“I want my real family back. My dad promised me he wouldn’t remarry, and he fucking did; to a bitch nonetheless. I hate her and her children are so… Phoney…!” Humming at his hurt words, I was analysing him: eyes gliding over the pasty, smooth contours of his vanilla face; staring into the trench of his pupils surrounded by his ocean eyes as he passed back the almost dead cigarette to me. The guard he wore over his exterior again was forming as he read that I was reading him without contempt (he thought I was feeling that, but I was simply analysing him emotionlessly—as if he was a labrat and I was dissecting him to figure out the following: what the fuck is this little shit?). But, I got him before he leaned away or apologised: Don’t worry, go on. Say it. I hate my cousins too. He relaxed yet again, I could see his shoulders come down and he leaned into me again,. Our heads were almost leaning against each other’s, breathes intermixing with each intake and out. “Go on.” I repeated, tapping his knee to accentuate my point.

He snapped out of whatever daze (he was reading me too, perhaps; mentally dissecting my Barbie body too, perhaps) and his hand came to clasp mine. I bit back a giggle and a smile at the contact, he did notice the corner of my lips tilt upward so he took that as a positive for further lacing of his fingers with mine. I, now a bit assured in myself, squeezed his hand and nudged him again: go on.

“Right,” He chuckled, “So, well, I just feel… Alien. You know, when I was little, I used to look at the stars,” He pointed briefly to the stars that were shining above the both of us, “And imagine my real family because I just felt like I wasn’t from here, like I was from another planet. I think I like that feeling, I was homesick for a place that didn’t even exist. And, to be honest, you’re the only other alien I’ve met.” That made me giggle after I muttered hiraeth at the sentence spoken second to the last. I found in my nicotined mindscape that this… Theory, was almost verbatim of a theory I myself had gardened in my meadow for mind. “Y’know…! I felt like that too, still do actually. I just used different terms for it. I called whatever the fuck our species are Earth Angels, angels on Earth. I read somewhere once that a person with scars of cuts on their arms was called an angel by a kid, and I think I really internalised… That.”

He chuckled, “Your mind is divine, Pretty. Yeah, I think my family is also a reason in why… I want to kill myself, y’know?”

“Oh, absolutely. I love them so much so I do what they want and they hate me for every speck of originality; I don’t know if it’s my mental disorders or it’s my hormones, but every small inconvenience makes me wanna kill myself. I’m also a hater! I hate everything and I do nothing to change it which, admittedly, makes me an arsehole—but, fuck it.” We both had laughter crawling up our throats and I could tell it wasn’t actual laughter. Oh, no. It was mania, laughing not because it threatened to spill; laughing because you had nothing else to do. Like crazy people (I do think that I am insane, in some way, shape or form. But, I also think that I’m supersane. Who fucking knows? I think a lot, don’t I?).

The cigarette had gone out by now, I think I had stubbed it out by pressing to the moist ground after he had truly started opening the shells of himself, not wishing to be distracted by drugs when I had the most addictive and healthy sedative offering his lifestory to a little shit like me. “Well, what’s it for you? I haven’t ever seen… You around…” He slurred out as we jumped down from our maniacal, little, episodic bursts of sacrilege or insanity… Well, are they not synonyms?

“Ah, so, I just moved here about a… Maybe a few days ago? I think a week or so. I moved from Lacey, though I’m actually Indian. Well… It’s a fucked-up fairytale, really. My whole ancestry and family is the following: sexist, racist, extremist to Sikhism, religious, doomed, homophobic, transphobic, Islamophobic, very, very Indian. It’s only my grandmother who acknowledges the sexism floating between our family; she dreamt high and was ambition incarnate but her marriage to this horrible fucking man led her to be so oppressed she couldn't speak a word of English without being thoroughly taunted for it.” His face clearly contorted into a gnarly grimace, and I felt my nose start to itch and burn again remembering all this up… Never had I ever trauma-puked this well or been so comfortable vomiting it out to someone I did not know.

“’s just… Fuckin’ Hell. I can’t translate it into words, I can only feel.” Shaking my head in a paternal sort of disappointment (no matter how much I despise the fact, I am my father’s daughter; his copy of carbon) at my inability, I felt myself pulled in again… How? How was he doing this shit? Being so fucking kind? It made me anxious, admittedly. Why was he so kind? What did the fucker want?

I’m being too cynical. I wanted to cry; instead I accepted his tentative comfort and shoved my face into the nook of his neck, breathing down it like a vampire in the night. I had the purely feminine, feline urge to wrap myself around him like Sarin and never let go to slowly dissolve into him even if maggots eat us out. Why, why, why, why, why, why, why, why, why…? For a few minutes I think, we stayed in that exact position, in a sort of silence that neutered my turmoil. His arms were gel onto my wounds, and I, terrified, readily crept in like the Dutch beetle on the elm.

“Don’t.” I eventually muttered out into the tender, pale, untouched flesh of temptation on his neck; I don’t know why I did it, don’t decipher or discover the root at all. What is a girl to do when offered love on a silver spoon when she only possesses a forked tongue of venom caused from licking slivers of love off a parental knife? I was a black, not racially but spiritually. I was corrupt, disgust, free-use trash for swollen cocks with zero semblance of any soul and only a pretty body. It’s my pretty power which is my ugly. I am disgusting… I sometimes feel the scorching need to cleanse myself, to face redemption, to hurry to salvation; and other days I revel in the hellfire of lust that would surround me once I am liberated of this uséd body.

[snpcmachine]

Produce bricks anywhere and anytime

SnPC Machines: Factory of brick on wheel

Fully automatic mobile brick making machine by SnPC Machines, First of its kind of machine in the world, our brick-making machine moves on wheels like a vehicle and produces bricks while the vehicle is on move. This allows kiln owners to produce bricks anywhere and anytime, as per their requirements. Fully automatic Mobile brick-making machine can produce up to 12000 bricks/hour with a reduction of up to 45% in production cost in comparison with manual and other machinery as well as 4-times (as per testing agencies report) more in compressive strength with standard shape, sizes and another extraordinary provision exist i.e. (that is) machine produced several brick sizes and it can be changed as per customer requirements from time to time. SnPC machines India is selling 04 models of fully automatic brick making machines: BMM160 brick making machine,BMM310, BMM400, and BMM410, (semi-automatic and fully automatic ) to the worldwide brick industry which produce bricks according to their capacities and fuel requirements. Raw material required for these machines is mainly clay, mud, soil or mixture of both. These moving automatic trucks are durable and easy to handle while operating. These machines are eco-friendly and budget-friendly as only one-third of water as compared to other methods is required and minimum labour is enough for these machines. We are offering direct customers access to multiple sites in both domestic and international stages, so they can see the demo and then will order us after satisfaction.

[warningsine]

JERUSALEM, May 9 (Reuters) - Israel killed three Islamic Jihad commanders and 10 civilians in surprise airstrikes in Gaza on Tuesday, Palestinian officials said, drawing threats of reprisals from the faction and censure from Egypt, which has mediated past ceasefires in the enclave.

Signalling it anticipated an imminent flare-up, Israel closed roads in Israeli towns near Gaza, instructed residents there to keep close to bomb shelters, and said it was calling up some military reservists. Images on social media showed Iron Dome rocket interceptor batteries being trucked to the front.

The scope of any escalation could hinge on whether Gaza's ruling Hamas militants take part, as they did in a 2021 war.

In a bid to deter them, Israeli security cabinet minister Israel Katz told Tel Aviv radio station 103 FM that Hamas leaders could be targeted for assassination, too.

While the Israeli-occupied West Bank and Jerusalem have seen a spread of grassroots violence over the past year, exchanges of fire across the Gaza border have also intensified - most recently following the death last week of an Islamic Jihad leader on hunger-strike in Israeli custody.

Islamic Jihad identified the commanders killed on Tuesday as Jihad Ghannam, Khalil Al-Bahtini and Tareq Izzeldeen. The Iranian-sponsored group is on terrorist watchlists in the West.

Medical officials said 10 civilians, including four children and five women, were also killed in the strikes that hit residential areas in congested Gaza, where 2.3 million Palestinians live on 365 sq km (140 sq miles).

Islamic Jihad vowed to "match the size of the crime".

"The Occupation (Israel) must expect a response at any moment and anywhere," said group spokesperson Dawoud Shehab.

The Israeli military said it was looking into reports of civilian deaths but had no immediate comment.

"We're aware of some collateral and we'll learn more as the day goes ahead," a military spokesperon told reporters.

The military said 40 jets took part in what it called "pinpoint" strikes. "It was a convergence of intelligence, timing and weather," a military spokesperson said.

Ten weapons and infrastructure manufacturing sites, including rocket production workshops and a site for making concrete used for tunnels, as well as military compounds belonging to the group were also hit, the spokesperson said.

"MORE RESISTANCE"

Hamas chief Ismail Haniyeh, who has been splitting his time between Turkey and Qatar, said in a statement: "Assassination of leaders will not bring the Occupation (Israel) security but more resistance."

Egypt, which has used its open channels to Israel and Palestinian militants to mediate truces in the past, said the strikes "contradicted the foundations of international law and international resolutions".

Videos showed billowing smoke and flames that lit up the night sky as trucks of firefighters sped to a building that had been hit, while a medic reassured a young girl who appeared confused.

"Your family is all safe, don't worry," he said.

During the bombardment, Palestinians took to social media to mourn a well-known dentist who was killed at home with his wife, describing him as a loyal friend and humble man.

In another sign Israel was preparing for a flare-up, its foreign minister, Eli Cohen, said he would return early from a visit to India after meeting Prime Minister Narendra Modi.

But the developments offered political reprieve for Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu. Jewish Power, a far-right party in his religious-rightist coalition government, said it was ending a boycott of parliamentary voting that it had called last week in protest at what it deemed lax Israeli policy on Gaza.

More than 100 Palestinians and at least 19 Israelis and foreigners have been killed in the strife since January.

The Palestinian foreign ministry strongly condemned Israel's attack and said a negotiated political solution was the only way to achieve security and stability. Islamic Jihad, like Hamas, refuses coexistence with Israel and preaches its destruction.

Israel captured Gaza and the West Bank, areas that Palestinians want for an independent state with East Jerusalem as its capital, in a 1967 war. Some ministers of Israel's current government have expressed opposition to Palestinian statehood and said there is no such thing as the Palestinian people.

COGAT, a unit of the Israeli defence ministry that coordinates civilian affairs with Palestinians in occupied territories, said its two Gaza crossings were closed to people and goods until further notice.

[rmnerectors]

Lifting Machine Rental in Nashik

RMN Erectors is a marketplace chief within the discipline of Lifting Machine Rental in Nashik, India serving experts who work at heights in any kind of industry. We provide a huge variety of which includes, scissor lifts, Truck Mounted, Man Lift, Diesel Forklift. RMN Erectors make it hard for our clients, providing for Rental Lifting Machine, to work quickly and at any height. It's far from the main employer that surfaces in this context on a normal basis.

RMN Erectors company lives as long as the expectancy and offers its clients with a well-timed and effective lifter machine for rent service. All of our lift rentals equipment allows you to tackle anything the process throws at you with flexibility and confidence. The RMN Erectors Lifting Machine Rental in Nashik for having access to an effective and dependable system on demand, you benefit from the determination and technical capabilities of your nearby.

Rental Lifting Machine In Nashik

A rental lifting machine refers to a piece of equipment used for lifting heavy objects or materials to various heights. There are several types of lifting machines available for rent, depending on the specific requirements of the task at hand. Here are some common examples:

Forklift: Forklifts are versatile machines used for lifting and moving materials in warehouses, construction sites, and industrial settings. They have two forks at the front that can be raised and lowered to lift pallets or other heavy objects.

Boom Lift: Boom lifts, also known as cherry pickers, are used for elevated work tasks. They consist of a platform or bucket attached to a hydraulic arm (or boom), allowing workers to access elevated areas such as building exteriors, trees, or utility poles.

Scissor Lift: Scissor lifts are another type of aerial work platform that can be rented. They have a platform that moves vertically using a crisscrossing mechanism, which resembles a pair of scissors. Scissor lifts are commonly used for maintenance, construction, and installation tasks.

Crane: Cranes are large machines equipped with a hoist, wire ropes or chains, and sheaves. They are used for heavy lifting in construction sites, shipping yards, and other industrial settings. Cranes come in various types, including tower cranes, mobile cranes, and overhead cranes.

Telehandler: A telehandler, or telescopic handler, combines the features of a forklift and a crane. It has a telescoping boom that can extend forward and upward, allowing it to lift and place loads with precision. Telehandlers are commonly used in construction and agriculture.

When renting a lifting machine, it's important to consider factors such as the required lifting capacity, reach, terrain conditions, and any specific attachments or accessories needed for the job. Rental companies typically offer different sizes and models of lifting machines to accommodate various project requirements.

Lifting Machine Hire In Nashik

Lifting machine hire refers to the service provided by equipment rental companies, where they offer various types of lifting machines or equipment for temporary use. Instead of purchasing a lifting machine outright, individuals or businesses can rent the equipment for a specific period of time to meet their lifting needs. Lifting machine hire is a cost-effective and convenient solution for those who require lifting equipment for short-term projects or occasional use.

The types of lifting machines available for hire can vary depending on the rental company and the specific requirements of the customer. Common examples of lifting machines that can be hired include forklifts, cranes, boom lifts, scissor lifts, telehandlers, and hoists.

When renting a lifting machine, customers typically have the flexibility to choose the specific model and size of the machine based on their lifting capacity and reach requirements. Rental periods can range from a few hours to several weeks or months, depending on the duration of the project.

Lifting machine hire services usually include delivery and pickup of the equipment to the customer's location. Some rental companies may also offer additional services such as equipment setup, maintenance, and operator training if required.

The rental rates for lifting machines are typically based on factors such as the type of equipment, rental duration, and any additional services requested. Rental companies may charge an hourly, daily, weekly, or monthly rate, depending on the terms of the rental agreement.

Overall, lifting machine hire provides a flexible and cost-effective solution for obtaining the necessary equipment to safely and efficiently perform lifting tasks without the need for long-term ownership.

Looking for an Lifting Machine Rental in Nashik? Then RMN Erectors is the best choice for you contact us at +91-9423969656 and visit our website 

[iamazadkhan]

India's Water Scarcity Expected To Get More Severe By 2050: UN Report

Pic Source: https://www.circleofblue.org/2019/india/groundwater-plummets-in-delhi-city-of-29-million/

To Start the Discussion

The nation that pumps the most groundwater has come to terms with its food and water security, which threatens to undermine political and economic stability as well as long-term public health. Circle of Blue uncovers how a nation of 1.3 billion people is inviting disease, economic suffering, and social instability by neglecting to safeguard its water in this special report, which builds on years of on-the-ground reporting. This post is included with the assumption on India's Water Scarcity Expected to Get More Severe By 2050. Have a look on the discussion for detailed information. A food supply "toxic time bomb" with global repercussions goes hand in hand with the depletion and poisoning of groundwater. Farmers use untreated wastewater that is mixed with sewage and industrial chemicals when irrigation wells run dry. The water changed from sustaining life to claiming it, as one villager put it.

A Wide Range of Issues

Delhi is making an effort to meet the demands of tens of millions of people by building new infrastructure on top of water systems that were created centuries ago, like other worldwide megacities, some of which are the size of small nations. Historically, the city relied on a network of check dams, step wells, and natural drains for its water supply. In this arrangement, rainwater was collected during the monsoon season and used all year round. Its historic network was neglected as a result of the metro area's recent decades of rapid growth, which has seen its population surpass 29 million, according to the UN. The majority of the city's natural drainage systems have been covered over or blocked by rubbish. Either lakes or other bodies of water have dried up, or they are now clogged with trash and other pollution. According to Upmanu Lall, a professor at Columbia University and the head of the Columbia Water Center, "Sewers, where they exist, release untreated or inadequately treated water," he told Circle of Blue. According to Lall, seasonal floods also disperses toxins throughout the city's water supply. "There are many places that flood when there are no sewage systems, mobilizing everything on the ground." Delhi's surface water is in poor condition as well. The Yamuna River, a tributary of the Ganges, is used by locals for drinking, bathing, and washing. However, the river is a poisonous brew of industrial chemicals, agricultural runoff, and sewage. According to a recent study, 1,500 unlicensed slums' worth of sewage and feces are dumped right into the Yamuna. The government-owned Delhi Jal Board is in charge of managing the city's water distribution system. Eighty-one percent of Delhi households have some access to piped water, though the supply—which comes from the Yamuna River and the ground—isn't always dependable or clean. The water that enters the pipes frequently leaks out. Water loss in the city might reach 40% as a result of theft and leakage. Approximately 625,000 households do not have any connection to the city pipelines, according to the 2011 Census. These homes are mostly found in slums or unofficial settlements.

Closing the Discourse

Borewells or tanker trucks are used by millions of residents who are not adequately supplied by the city's water distribution system or are excluded from it. Illegal borewells are commonplace across the city, with some of them extending more than 120 meters. According to a report from March 2018, 15 of Delhi's 27 administrative divisions "overexploit" groundwater. There are additional variables at play in Delhi's impending groundwater issue besides illegal groundwater extraction. According to Lall, the Delhi metropolitan region includes its own capital territory and is bordered by the states of Uttar Pradesh and Haryana, both of which regularly pump considerable amounts of groundwater for domestic use. The region's water users as a whole are taking groundwater more quickly than it is naturally replenishing. Read the full article

[vintageviewmaster]

Brand: View-Master Packet Title: Florida Booklet Title: View-Master Presents Florida Booklet Subtitle: The Peninsula State Date: 1955

Note: When reading the booklet descriptions, please remember that these booklets are old (most are 65+ years old) and the information and history presented in them as factual may be inaccurate, outdated, and in some cases, offensive.

Booklet Introduction Description: Ponce de Leon really missed a bet. He landed near St. Augustine one April in 1513 in search of the legendary Fountain of Youth, then sailed away! During the 1940-1950 decade, 600,000 people from other states moved to Florida convinced that they had found what Ponce de Leon had overlooked. Their fountain of youth consists of basking in the Florida sun acquiring that native tan, sailing and fishing in the warm waters that lap the nation's longest coastline, and sleeping under subtropical stars in a night cooled by the trade winds.

Florida Facts and Figures When Ponce de Leon landed on the Florida coast it was Easter Sunday which in Spanish is Pascua florida, hence "Florida". The State Flower is the Orange Blossom; the State Bird is the Mocking-bird; the Tree is the Cabbage or Sabal Palm; the Song is "The Swanee River" by Stephen Foster; and the Motto is the same as that found on all U. S. coins, "In God We Trust." Almost twice as many vacationers and winter guests visit the state of Florida as live there. The income from the 5 million tourists, $930 million is the state's largest single source of income. A combination of all year sunshine and plentiful rainfall has resulted in Florida's world leadership in oranges. Over half the nation's and a quarter of the world's supply of oranges are grown in the state. Most of the nation's winter vegetables come from Florida truck gardens, and in south Florida tropical fruits are grown - avocado, mango, guava, papaya, litchi fruit, and coconuts. Hotel-keeping must be the state's leading industry, but it also leads the nation in cigar making, sponge harvesting and phosphate mining. The largest cigar factory in the world is in Jacksonville. Every spring, baseball comes to Florida. Twelve of the sixteen major league teams plus 77 minor league teams hold spring training here.

The State and Its People Florida has an area of 58,560 square miles and is 21st in size among the states. It has the longest coastline, 2,077 miles. It is bounded by the Atlantic Ocean on the east, the Florida Straits on the south separates it from Cuba; the Gulf of Mexico washes its western shores; and Alabama and Georgia lie north. Only Delaware and Louisiana lie lower than Florida whose average elevation is 100 feet. The highest point in the state is 325 feet at Iron Mountain upon which is built the famous Bok Singing Tower. The southern tip of the state is Everglade country where the land is so low that it appears as small hummocks or patches of grass growing out of swampy water. Everglades National Park is located here. The 1950 population of Florida was 2,711,305, ranking twentieth among the states. It is the fastest growing state east of the Rockies having increased its popular 46.1% from 1940 to 1950. Famous Floridians include: Osceola, the great Seminole Indian war chief who was never defeated but finally tricked into imprisonment; John Gorrie, of Apalachicola, inventor of mechanical refrigeration; Marjorie Kinnar Rawlings, whose Pulitzer prize novel, The Yearling” dealt with the Florida backwoods; and Joseph W. "Vinegar Joe" Stilwell, commander of the China-Burma-India Theater of War.

Highlights of History After discovering Florida, Ponce de Leon landed two shiploads of colonists at Charlotte Harbor in 1521, but constant clashes with the Indians resulted in his death and the abandonment of the colony. Tales of fabulous cities of gold (which were not to spring up until the 20th century) lured other Spanish explorers. Hernando de Soto landed in the Tampa area in 1539 to begin a four year march. Don Pedro Menendez de Aviles, Captain General of the Spanish treasure fleets, came to Florida in 1565 to found St. Augustine and a line of posts from Tampa Bay to Port Royal, South Carolina. After the British captured Havana, Cuba, in 1763, Spain agreed to trade Florida for the Cuban capital. But after the American Revolution, the British were squeezed in by the new United States and Spanish strongholds to the south. They ceded Florida to Spain from whom the United States bought it in 1819 for $5 million. With the creation of the Florida Territory in 1822 came Indian trouble. The Seven-Year Seminole Wars ending in 1842 cost the lives of 1,500 American soldiers but brought eventual peace paving the way for statehood which was granted on March 3, 1845.

[careindiapackers]

Are You looking for a transport company in Chandigarh? If yes, then you are at the right place Hire Care India, the best packers and movers in Chandigarh, that can help you shift and move to Chandigarh or nearby cities. We offer a range of truck sizes for you to choose from depending on your specific needs. whatever your requirement, We provide all types of truck sizes choose one that meets your requirements. For more info in detail on Truck Sizes In India please visit our official website

[cetpainfotech2]

How many sizes of Range Rover Tyre are available online?

RANGE ROVER India produces an expanded range of car tyre with modern technology. This brand specialises in performance tyre, off-road tyre, and SUV Tyres. Range Rover is the most popular and trustable tyre brand in the market. The brand has a complete product structure of tyre for passenger cars, light trucks, and buses, high-performance tyre for motorsports applications, and even construction applications. There are 7239 tyre dealers in India and they are present across 990 cities in India. our shops are available in Noida and Delhi NCR cities also. and many sizes of Rang Rover tyre is available online. You can further search for dealers in your city by using the drop-down below. If you think about which tyre is best in India then we can say Range Rover is the best tyre in India. And this is my personal experience.

[remotecontrol-toys]

Remote control toy is a good tool for kids to play with. So that they can entertain themselves. Remote control toys are made of plastic and different materials. But most are made of plastic. And these are the best products for children to play with. There are a lot of different types of remote control toys like a car, or helicopter toy. This product is powered by a cell and battery, which has a service life of 2 to 3 hours and is also easily charged. The running distance of these products is approximately 10 to 30 mitter. This is such a product that children can easily understand, there are many such products in which songs also play. So that children can have fun as well as play. Even a man can easily buy these toys for his children. Remote control toys are made of different colour, quality, and shapes.

Remote control toys companies in India = many companies in India manufacture these products and export these products. For example  - Masoom playmates Pvt. Ltd. educational toys, Toy Ghar India, Little rides India Pvt. Ltd. , Mekashi toys Pvt. Ltd., and Mohit soft toys. RC toys etc. These are the companies that manufacture these products.

Types of remote-control toys - 

1  Car - Radio-controlled cars (or RC cars for short) are miniature model cars, vans, buses that can be controlled from a distance using a specialised transmitter or remote. Car is a product which is liked by almost all children. Cars are made of different modern colours, shapes. It runs by cell and battery. For kids, Lamborghini is one such car whose colour and modder look quite attractive.

2 helicopter - A helicopter is a toy that can be flown from the height of the ground to a height of about 10 to 30 meters. These toys are available up to the cost of about 500, which a common man can easily get for his children. And they come in different colours, quality, shapes, and sizes so that children can easily like them.

The Best Kids RC Helicopters of 2022

1  WLtoys Large Helicopter Toy. Best Large RC Helicopter. …

2  Betheaces Flying Ball Helicopter Toys. ...

3  Vatos Mini Helicopter With Remote Control. …

4  Little Tikes Youdrive Rescue Chopper. ..

5  RC Helicopter TF1001. …

6  TopLee Flying Ball Indoor Helicopter.

3 Monster truck - The monster truck is an excellent off-road toy for kids to play and they come in different colours, qualities, shapes and sizes. so that the rest can easily entertain themselves. It is great for climbing over indoor/outdoor objects, and walking on smooth, uneven, or bumpy areas, such as ground, grassland, sandy ground, and rocks. Battery powered (rechargeable), Full function pro steering (go back and forth, turn left and right), Adjustable front wheel alignment, 4 wheel drive, Able to tackle different terrains and obstacles with ease,

Radio & Remote Control Toys for Kids (2-4 Years To 12+ Years) -

These remote-control toys are made for children of this age. Kids of this age can easily be entertained by these toys. Parents can also easily buy these toys according to their budget.

[snpcmachine]

Speed up your brick production speed with fully automatic clay brick making machine

Fully automatic mobile brick making machine by SnPC Machines, First of its kind of machine in the world, our brick-making machine moves on wheels like a vehicle and produces bricks while the vehicle is on move. This allows kiln owners to produce bricks anywhere and anytime, as per their requirements. Fully automatic Mobile brick-making machine can produce up to 12000 bricks/hour with a reduction of up to 45% in production cost in comparison with manual and other machinery as well as 4-times (as per testing agencies report) more in compressive strength with standard shape, sizes and another extraordinary provision exist i.e (that is) machine produced several brick sizes and it can be changed as per customer requirements from time to time. Snpc machines India is selling 04 models of fully automatic brick making machines: BMM160 brick making machine,BMM310, BMM400, and BMM410, (semi-automatic and fully automatic ) to the worldwide brick industry which produce bricks according to their capacites and fuel requirements. Raw material required for these machines is mainly clay, mud, soil or mixure of both. These moving automatic trucks are durable and easy to handle while operating. These machines are eco-friendly and budget-friendly as only one-third of water as compared to other methods is required and minimum labour is enough for these machines. We are offering direct customers access to multiple sites in both domestic and international stages, so they can see the demo and then will order us after satisfaction.

[saipackersindia]

Sai Packers & Movers: Trusted Transportation Services in Bhopal and Across India

In today’s fast-paced world, reliable transportation services are crucial for both businesses and individuals. Whether it's moving goods across the city or transporting items to different parts of India, choosing the right transportation service provider can make all the difference. Sai Packers & Movers, a trusted name in transportation services in Bhopal, offers professional and efficient solutions for all your transport needs. Their services are not only limited to Bhopal but extend to locations across India, making them a preferred choice for long-distance and inter-state transport.

Comprehensive Transportation Solutions

Sai Packers & Movers specialize in a wide range of truck transport in Bhopal, catering to diverse needs. From personal belongings to business shipments, they possess the expertise and resources to manage it all efficiently. Their well-maintained fleet of trucks is designed to ensure safe and timely delivery of goods, whether it’s within the city or across state borders.

One of the key aspects that sets Sai Packers & Movers apart is their customer-centric approach. They provide end-to-end transportation services, ensuring that goods are carefully packed, loaded, and unloaded with the utmost care. This attention to detail reduces the risk of damage and ensures that your belongings arrive at their destination in pristine condition.

Nationwide Reach

While based in Bhopal, Sai Packers & Movers also offer transport services on an India-wide level, allowing customers to transport goods across the country seamlessly. Whether you’re looking to move household items to a different city or need to ship commercial goods to a distant location, their nationwide network ensures smooth and efficient service.

They provide customized solutions based on the size and nature of the cargo, with flexible pricing to suit different budgets. Their professional team works around the clock to meet the timelines and expectations of clients, making them a reliable partner for all kinds of transportation needs.

Why Choose Sai Packers & Movers?

With extensive experience in the industry, Sai Packers & Movers have earned a strong reputation for reliability and professionalism. They offer:

1. Affordable pricing for both local and long-distance transportation.

2. Customized services to meet the specific requirements of clients.

3. Experienced staff who handle goods with care and efficiency.

4. A wide range of trucks available to accommodate all types of goods.

For anyone seeking dependable truck transport in Bhopal or across India, Sai Packers & Movers is a name you can trust. Visit their website at https://saipackersindia.co.in/transportation to learn more about their services and get in touch today for a hassle-free transportation experience!

[seo-premier]

How Bearings Keep the Automotive Industry Running Smoothly

Bearings are crucial components across numerous industries, particularly in the automotive sector, where they are in high demand. As the leading Schaeffler distributor for various types of bearings, we understand that the automotive industry requires the highest quality bearings. Whether it’s a two-wheeler, four-wheeler, train, or aircraft, bearings ensure the smooth and efficient functioning of engines and wheels. Despite their importance, many are unaware of the vital role bearings play in automobiles, facilitating engine and wheel movement, reducing friction, and bearing heavy loads. Let’s explore how bearings are used in the automotive industry.

Increases Load Capacity - Bearings are critical in supporting and enhancing a vehicle’s load capacity. Manufactured from high-quality materials, they are designed to bear heavy loads with ease. Since different vehicles have varying load capacities, different sizes of bearings are utilized. From cars to trucks and buses, roller bearings handle both radial and axial loads effectively, ensuring they don’t get affected by the heavy weight.  

Enhances the Life of Automobile Components - Bearings are integrated into various automotive parts, such as wheels, engines, suspension systems, and steering mechanisms. They play a crucial role in reducing friction between metallic components, which otherwise leads to premature wear and tear, frequent part replacement and increased maintenance costs. Bearings help prevent damage to moving vehicle parts, thus improving durability and performance.

Improves Vehicle Safety - Bearings are vital in the suspension system as they absorb vibrations and shocks while driving. Integrated into the brake and steering systems, bearings allow for better vehicle control. In wheels, they enable smooth rotation, preventing skidding and keeping the wheels properly aligned for a safe and smooth ride. This directly contributes to the vehicle's safety and offers a user-friendly driving experience. 

Guides the Movement of Automobile Parts -  Bearings guide the relative movement of various automobile parts, ensuring ease of movement in a specified direction. They support components like the steering shaft or wheels, making it possible to maneuver the vehicle seamlessly and with precision, such as turning the steering to control the wheels.

Bearings offer unparalleled capabilities, from handling substantial loads to operating continuously without failure. They are indispensable components that keep machinery and systems running smoothly. Premier Bearings is among the top bearing distributors in India, serving a wide range of industries. To learn more about our products and services, visit our website at https://www.premierbearing.com/

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Seamless Packing and Unpacking Services for Office Relocation: Arrow Packers & Movers

Relocating your office can be a daunting task, filled with numerous challenges, from packing delicate office equipment to ensuring a smooth transition with minimal disruption to business operations. Arrow Packers & Movers is here to make your office relocation hassle-free, offering comprehensive packing, unpacking, and office shifting services. With our professional team and years of expertise, we ensure a seamless move for your business.

Expert Packing and Unpacking Services

Packing and unpacking are crucial aspects of any office relocation. Every office is filled with valuable equipment, essential documents, and furniture that need to be handled with care. Our packing services are designed to safeguard your office belongings. Whether it’s computers, printers, office furniture, or confidential documents, we use high-quality packing materials to ensure that everything is securely packed for transportation.

Our team follows a meticulous process to ensure no damage is done during the move. Once we reach your new office location, we provide unpacking services to help you settle quickly and efficiently. From organizing office furniture to setting up IT equipment, we make sure everything is in place, allowing you to resume work without unnecessary delays.

Hassle-Free Office Relocation Services

Office relocation involves more than just moving furniture and equipment. It requires careful planning, coordination, and a systematic approach to minimize downtime. At Arrow Packers & Movers, we understand the importance of time in business, and our office relocation services are designed to make the transition smooth and swift.

We start by conducting a pre-move survey to understand your specific needs and challenges. Based on the survey, we create a customized relocation plan that ensures minimal disruption to your business operations. Our team works efficiently to ensure that your office is moved in the shortest time possible, without compromising on the safety of your assets.

Office Shifting Services for All Business Sizes

Whether you are a small business or a large corporation, our office shifting services are tailored to meet your unique needs. We have experience handling office relocations of all sizes, from small local moves to large-scale corporate relocations. Our fleet of well-maintained trucks and vehicles ensures that your office belongings are transported safely to the new location.

Additionally, we offer dismantling and reassembling services for office furniture, ensuring that everything is set up according to your preferences. Our team takes care of every detail, including the installation of office equipment, so that your team can get back to work with minimal downtime.

Why Choose Arrow Packers & Movers?

With years of experience in the industry, Arrow Packers & Movers has earned a reputation for being one of the most reliable moving companies in Ahmedabad. We pride ourselves on providing high-quality, customer-centric services that ensure your office relocation is stress-free.

Professional Team: Our team of trained professionals has extensive experience in handling office relocations, ensuring the safe handling of your office assets.

Tailored Solutions: We provide customized office relocation plans to meet the unique needs of your business.

Safety First: We use the best packing materials and techniques to ensure that your office belongings are transported safely.

On-Time Service: We value your time and ensure timely delivery and setup at your new office location.

Contact Us

For seamless packing, unpacking, office relocation, and office shifting services, get in touch with Arrow Packers & Movers today! Call us at 80000 55888 or visit our office at 1405 Shilp Epitome, Rajpath Rangoli Road, Rajpath Club Road, Sindhubhavan Rd, Near Infostech, Bodakdev, Ahmedabad, Gujarat India 380054. Let us make your office move a hassle-free experience!For more details, visit our website: www.arrowpackers.com