#turn towards delhi

[madridfangirl]

Star crossed lovers (Jude Bellingham fanfic)

Chapter 1

(Series Link)

Jude * female reader. No warnings.

Synopsis: A chance encounter in a tiny Madrid cafe with the newest superstar of her fav club. The two couldn't be more different, yet both feel the pull toward the other. Would this girl be the one he finally falls for? Would she make him change his ways? Even though she resists him every step of the way, would he fight all odds (& her) to have her in his life? Or would life come in the way of these star-crossed lovers?

……………………………………

Madrid was such a beautiful city. Ananya had been here for nearly four months now, yet couldn’t stop marvelling almost daily over some or the other detail she kept discovering. She loved the hustle bustle but also the quaint historical aesthetic that the city provided. That way, it was quite similar to Delhi, the city she was from.

She was practically in a different continent now, far far away from India. To move to another country, with a completely different language and culture, while she was just 20, had been a tough choice. But she was offered a great job in her undergraduate college placements and no career-minded adult would say no to such an opportunity. So, she had managed to convince her overprotective parents to let her move to Madrid, on her own. Her parents thought she would want to return in a few months itself, but she surprised even her own self with how well she was adjusting to the city. Madrid was beautiful, after all.

As she sat in a sweet little cafe on the side of a small road, close to her office in downtown Madrid, on a Friday evening, she smiled to herself on how the last few months had transpired. So much had changed in her life, and she was loving the ride she was on. An independent girl, with a decently fancy job in one of the best European cities. Life was good right now.

This tiny cafe was one of her favourite spots in the city. It was run by an older couple who always greeted her with a smile and the best churros in the galaxy. It was never too crowded, most people just took takeouts. So it was an ideal place to relax, and it was walking distance from her office.

She pulled out her laptop while munching on her plate of churros. It was already Friday evening but she still had a few hours of work left. Investment banking was fun but the hours came with it. Mr. Iglesias (the owner) quietly placed a cup of cappuccino, her usual, next to her plate. She smiled gleefully at his hospitality, then engrossed herself in her work.

30 minutes later, a distinct baritone and accent broke her out of her reverie.

‘A Spanish omelette please?’

Ananya turned around, drawn to the voice. A tall man, wearing stylish all black attire, was standing at the counter. She could only see his back.

Mr. Iglesias drew a blank expression. The tall man tried again.

‘Umm, an omelette, Spanish omelette, por favor?’

‘Un tortilla de patatas, senor.’

Mr. Iglesias nodded happily at the man and signalled 10 mins with his hands.

The man whipped his head in her direction, and smiled gratefully at her.

She had to look away. Immediately. Not just because he had the most infectious smile in the world. But because she recognised who it was and she absolutely would die if she acted crazy at this instant. No, she willed to not make a fool of herself.

But he was walking over to her now.

‘Hey, thanks a ton for that.’

She had taken a few deep breaths by now and was back to her typical poise.

‘No problem at all. I could see you were struggling there.’

He hung his head and laughed sheepishly.

‘I did learn what it was called in Spanish, I swear. But had a long day and completely blanked out. Umm, Spanish is not my first language you see. But I am learning.’

Despite the situation, she somehow managed to smile back genuinely at how he was trying to explain himself to a complete stranger.

‘Well, I am new to the city and the language as well. But my favourite dishes are something I never forget. Can’t go without those, right?’

He smiled at her again. A smile that lit up his whole face. A smile that could light up a black hole. She was amazed at how real, how normal he came across. He was wearing his cap backwards and had glasses on to serve as some disguise she supposed, but she doubted whether those would generally be of any help to him. Not anymore at least.

He played with the back of the chair opposite hers, and looked around.

‘Umm, are you alone? May I join you?’

She channelled all her inner poise before answering.

‘Yeah sure.’

And he flashed her another joyful smile while settling on the small table, opposite her. Man could charge 1000 euros for each smile and people would line up to pay.

He removed the godforsaken glasses, unveiling his big, coffee brown eyes. The hat he just turned backwards, which somehow suited his chiseled face even more.

‘You said you are not from here. May I ask where you are from?’

‘Sure, I am from India.’

‘Wow. I have heard so much about that place. Some of my neighbors back home are also from India. Would love to visit sometime.’

‘You should. There are many flavours to India which you could only experience when you visit.’

He nodded along, agreeing with her wholeheartedly. Mr. Iglesias waved to him from the counter, signalling 5 mins more. He smiled at him as well. Was that his default setting? Not that she was complaining. Oh hell, no.

He suddenly looked back at her.

‘Hey, I didn’t catch your name. So silly of me to not ask earlier.’

She found herself smiling again.

‘Ananya.’

‘A-nan-ya?’

He tried to break down the foreign sounding name in syllables. It was her turn to giggle now, and he rubbed the back of his head sheepishly.

‘Not A as in Ancelloti but A as in Alvaro Morata.’

He leaned back in his chair, still rubbing the back of his head, and looked straight into her eyes.

‘So, you do know who I am?’

She tuned her laptop towards him. The screensaver was her in the trophy room at the Bernabeu, along with the 14 Champions League trophies.

He looked at the photo and her beaming smile. Her love for the club was evident.

‘Been a Madridista since 2009. 15 years. That’s 75% of my life. So yes, I do know who you are Jude.’

Somehow, just somehow she had managed to find her footing amidst all this madness and was having what would appear to be a fairly normal conversation with a global superstar. She felt it was because of him, though. Because how easygoing and grounded he seemed.

‘Wow. That’s awesome. You know, I didn’t even like football at that age? It’s strange, I know. My dad always wondered what was wrong with me. But one day, suddenly, I decided I wanted to play.’

‘I get it. Sometimes god acts in mysterious ways. You won’t even know how or when, it just happens.’

‘I know right.’

They fell into a comfortable silence. Just looking at each other. And smiling. Both couldn’t stop smiling for some reason.

Mr. Iglesias appeared then with the omelette and Jude nearly hugged him in delight.

He stuffed his face with a gigantic bite, moaning at the taste. Then, he ended up coughing vigorously because the bite was almost one third of his plate.

‘Easy. Here, take this.’

Ananya offered her glass of water to him, which he gulped down in three sips. Then rubbed his mouth with the back of his hand as he looked back into her eyes.

‘My mom had once gotten me an omelette from this place. Felt like little drops of heaven. Since then I have been meaning to have this. Sorry for the clumsiness, I got a little carried away.’

He was apologising to her again, which was so endearing. And that accent made everything sound twice as cute.

They went back to their food, and the comfortable silence was back. But she was learning that he couldn’t stay silent for long.

‘Since you already have a head start in knowing about me, would you tell me something about you? What brings you to Madrid?’

‘I work at an investment bank here. Kind of my dream job and my dream firm.’

He leaned forward, tapping his fingers on the table.

‘Ooooh fancy.’

‘Yeah right. Look who is talking.’

‘No, it is fancy. Seems like a smart person thing. I had a feeling you were like that.’

He spent the next 15 mins learning about her job, and by the end he accused her of showing off by using big terms he won’t understand. She neither confirmed nor denied that accusation.

He took another mouthful again, completely ignoring what happened the last time. She couldn’t help but be amused at his antics.

‘So, have you seen any match live?’

Her whole demeanour changed and she was practically bouncing off the chair now. He found that extremely amusing.

‘Oh yes. I was here for internship last year and I managed to watch one game. Vini scored two kickass goals and we won. It was amazing - easily one of the best days of my life.’

‘Um-hmm.’

Something in his tone was off but she was too happy to care.

‘Is he…your favourite player, then?’

‘Oh he’s amazing. Us fans have seen him since he was 17 I guess? And look at the journey. Love the player he has become. But my favourite will only ever be one. I am a Ronaldo fan girl.’

Well, that seemed to cheer him up. He kind of figured that given she had mentioned 2009.

He watched her face fondly for a few seconds as she turned nostalgic and relived the memories in her head.

‘Nothing this season, then?’

‘No luck. The tickets are always sold out. Last year also it was our firm which arranged them for us.’

‘Hmm.’

She hadn’t seen him play, then.

He went back to his last bite and turned it around with his fork a few times, pondering over his next words.

‘Well, there is a home game tomorrow.’

‘A HOME GAME? It’s the first Classico of the season. Ofcourse I know that. God I am so nervous. Hated them winning the league last year. Hate their guts. Jude, you guys better win tomorrow, please. ’

He watched her keenly though her rant, thoroughly amused.

‘Thanks for the order. But, what I meant was, do you want to watch the game tomorrow?

‘But, Classicos get sold out in the beginning of the season right?

She looked confused. Still not getting the point. He realised he would have to spell it out for her.

So smart in her work but not as much in this, which was cute in its own way.

‘Ananya, do you want to watch the match tomorrow from my box? Because you are welcome to do that.’

Oh. Oh.

She stayed still, and he scanned her face for a response.

A volcano erupted inside her. She had been so lost in talking about Madrid and that match that she had completely missed the way he had been looking at her. And what he had asked her just now.

He could tell from her face that something deep was holding her back.

‘Listen, bring your friends / colleagues if you want to. Many of my friends have attended. Plus the boxes are all next to each other so the media / fans can’t really tell who is in whose box, if that’s what’s concerning you. You can just attend as a friend, that’s it.’

She wasn’t buying the last line.

‘That’s it?’

She called his bluff while meeting his gaze. Which he admired. The smart girl was back.

‘Well, after the match, we could grab a bite maybe? Doesn’t have to be a public place, don’t need that drama. So maybe, your place? Or….mine?’

She shook her head sadly.

‘Jude…it’s not that you are not…but…we live in very different worlds and…’

He had an inkling of what was coming and he cut her off before she could finish the sentence. Taking no for an answer was not an acceptable option right now, not when the last 30 mins had been so pleasant and refreshing.

‘What if I score tomorrow? Against the team you detest? How about then?’

She looked at him with her mouth half open. Which made him look down to her lips. But he had the good sense to quickly revert to her eyes.

‘Won’t you want to give me some extra motivation to score against Barca? Or would you rather I be sad and distracted tomorrow?’

She couldn’t believe what she was hearing. He was really doubling down on this.

‘Let me get this straight. You are seriously using my love for Real Madrid to get me to go out with you?’

He leaned back in his chair, smirked that gorgeous smirk, and shrugged casually, with an iota of arrogance, knowing he was going to win this. Even the arrogance suited him, for crying out loud.

But then, he leaned forward and covered her hand with his, expression all sincere. Her breath hitched at his touch.

‘Look. I just want to spend some time with you, and I really would love for you to see me play. I get that my lifestyle comes with a zillion challenges but that’s step 10. Can we please just spend a few hours together, just you and me, where we talk and get to know each other? I promise, that’s all I am asking. And you don’t have to say yes to that now. You can decide tomorrow after the match. How does that sound?’

The earnestness in his silky smooth voice was drawing her in. She believed him, and was on the verge of saying yes.

But he got restless and played his final card, which he always had up his sleeve.

‘Also, Zidane is going to be there. Their box is just two rows down from where you would be.’

She burst out laughing and threw the table napkin in his face, which he caught easily. Then flashed her a million dollar smile.

‘You really are something aren’t you?’

‘Well, I try.’

She had forgotten that his hand was still on top of hers and was reminded of it when he squeezed it briefly, then withdrew it.

He pulled out his phone and slid it in front of her.

‘Gonna need your number to send the passes.’

Her mind was still registering what she had agreed to but her body reacted involuntarily and typed in her number.

He saved it quickly and sent over the passes in seconds.

‘So, I will see you tomorrow then?’

‘Yes. You leave me no choice. And you better win now, after what you just pulled.’

His phone chimed with a reminder then, for an evening home fitness session prior to the match. He had to leave, she could tell.

He stood up, and she got reminded of how tall he was. His lean physique made him look even taller.

He reached out for her hand again, shaking it this time. And lingered for a few seconds.

‘I will have to go thank my mom now for recommending this place.’

He chuckled, while finally getting go of her hand. She couldn’t stop admiring how his eyes crinkled when he smiled.

‘Can I drop you home?’

‘I have some work to finish - you carry on.’

‘Ok. Looks like it’s gonna rain tonight so pls leave soon.’

Gosh, could this guy get any more charming?

‘Yeah, I will.’

Grudgingly, he went towards the door of the small cafe but looked back one final time.

‘Ananya - such a beautiful name.’

He said it perfectly this time and she gave him a hearty smile, exactly what he needed before he made his way out.

She fell back in her chair, buried her face in her hands and tried to make sense of what had just happened. Tomorrow was going to be nuts. She was going to see Zidane, who she loved to bits. She was gonna watch El Classico. And then, if Jude had his way, she was going to go out on a date with him.

………………………………………………………..

Author’s note: This is set in October and pls assume the classicos were reversed :)

Lots more to come, hope you liked the setup.

[myfanficfrenzy]

Arshi FF : Pandora’s Box

Author : Munchy

Status : Completed and available on Munchy’s blog

Genre : Romance, Angst, Tragedy

“Keep reading” for my two cents on the story. Minor spoilers ahead. Warnings at the end of the review.

My first serious caution for this story, this isn’t for the faint of heart. If you like your Arnav and Khushi wrapped up in the comfort and warmth of love, away from any and all kinds of hurt and especially morally grey situations, you should probably skip this one. But if you’re a fan of ethereal writing, imperfect characters and a tear jerking angst fest with a side of passionate Arshi, dive right in.

The story’s tagline is ‘That life is a circle is a myth. It spirals’. And that’s exactly one feels reading the story.

Munchy’s story begins in the 1940s, with British ruled India at the brink of partition. While ASR here is Arnav Singh Raizada, KKG is Khushi Kauser Ghilani, two neighbors about to be swept in a whirlwind. The author paints a stunning visual of Punjab and you will find yourself literally back in time with her words. Arnav is back to his ancestral home after his upbringing in English schools and high society of delhi, while Khushi Ghilani had enjoyed a free reign over all the love Arnav’s family could bestow on their lovely neighbor in their small part of the town.

An unfortunate first meet in a Mango Orchard turns our protagonists sour (of course Arnav and Khushi will fight. Duh uh), but they soon find themselves in the web of undeniable attraction towards each other. And right when they’re dealing with minor issues like the first wave of teenage love and heartbreak, the country goes through one of its darkest periods and their lives are turned upside down overnight.

Pointed out to me once in a discussion and I wholeheartedly agree, one of the things that caught me off guard about this fanfic was the portrayal of impact of partition on day to day life of children. You see the worsening environment from their eyes, when suddenly the families and friends they grew up with are now considered enemies. When they can’t be as carefree as they would have loved with their doting neighbours; because now their different faith comes first. Those chapters had me in a chokehold and I’ve read through them with eyes full of tears. The whole story feels like a ticking time bomb when it begins, and it blows up right in your face. Social practices prevalent at that time will also make you want to puke your insides out.

And over the base of all this anguish and tragedy, Arnav and Khushi are looking to build a life together. It hurts every step of the way, so when the small moments of happiness come along you will soak it all up as a reader.

But fair warning, this is Munchy writing angst. And it will make itself known! Every story that I’ve read from her leaves my heart longing for something more, anger at having fate play a cruel role, and almost clawing my brain out, wishing I can get into those pages and fix the whole world for my beloved pair. But as always, life and Munchy’s stories aren’t fair. They’re however emotional, beautiful and extraordinary!

Warnings- Cheating, Violence, Underage Sex

-I

[chutkiandchotte]

I've been kind of in a IPK hateration mood lately (so if you're not in the mood for that look away lol) and its irritating that a lot of people find Khushi really annoying (which admittedly - she can be extremely trying, its kind of a core characteristic) for the same things they find extremely attractive and/or forgivable in Arnav. Such as arrogance, stubborness, narrow minded-ness, etc etc.

Personally to me, rewatching this show as a well grown adult (for the millionth time but thats not relevant 👀), Arnav can be extremely annoying. And immature too. And he's got flaws and made mistakes the size of Jupiter and not everything is to do with his deep dark past and lack of trust and misunderstandings.

Arnav calling the Gupta house ghatiya and his crappy behaviour leading up to that, for example, is to me one of his lowest moments but also an extremely real one which is perhaps why I have the most viscerally annoyed by it reaction. I am yet to meet someone who forced a girl into a contract marriage for 6 months to save their sister so its hard to take that one personally lol. But I do know about how casually violent classist dynamics can be especially in conservative families where the boy's side is richer than the girl's side. I've seen that exact anxious Gupta family - entitled damadji dynamic first hand. Yeah, this is how rich assholes in India behave and think. There isn't the slightest bit of gratitude or humility for the lottery they won in being one of the 1% of India, instead there is tremendous entitlement to every bit of power they wield combined with a barely concealed disgust/dehumanization of poor people. Unfortunately, best case scenario is actually someone like Arnav - not actively malicious or hostile but passively smugly superior towards anyone not of his "class", careless with his words and actions which often land as loaded weapons, and perfectly comfortable with using his money and power to control the lives of anyone dependent on him.

The ghatiya incident of course was followed by a contrition period of sorts which I do enjoy watching in isolation. But it means nothing really when you remember that well after misunderstandings are cleared, Arnav chose to financially blackmail Khushi with the threat of turning her poor parents out to the streets. That well after love declarations and marriage vows, Arnav in order to win an argument still mocked Khushi's financial status, reminded her of her financial dependency on him and insisted that all financial decisions should be taken by him.

There's a strong strain of classism in the way he thinks, in the language he uses, the numerous uses of the word "aukaad" - anyone who has spent any amount of time in Delhi knows the exact kind of person who frequently throws around the word aukaad. And frankly...its a toss up to me whats more annoying between Arnav's frequent and casual classism and Khushi's frequent and casual violation of people's boundaries.

(Except maybe that Arnav's is more annoying given that, you know, he gets the to tap into the power of oppressive structures of society to enforce all of his annoying habits while Khushi is just like, one annoying girl who often hurts people due to her interfering nature. The person I would consider the biggest victim of Khushi's annoying habits is actually Lavanya. Not Arnav.)

[autechres]

Loumandaniel is so crazy to me because. Imagine being this curly haired little freak of a man that's just, really, looking for profit out of misery — and don't get him wrong, it's a passion as metonymy, a romanticization of the underbelly — and then you bump into a beautiful man that completely crosses your heart with his words and turns out he's the fucking Zodiac or something. Worse. His husband, the scary one, is marked as he is. Louis de Pointe du Lac, grandson. Armand, run down by slavers in Delhi, his first memory, a piquing interest. The raging bull, a cognition of a pattern. Daniel falls and basks in, after all, their misery. A recognition of a growing attempt, a mutual relationship towards oppression; the narration of the slave, the molecules that run underneath it, and how he needs those stories to be told. It's his nature, to get a surplus out of that, so he starts the tape. And it never really stops running, because they need the boy to live, the nascent wake, the trace that remains, the index to follow. A White man that retells their trauma, piece by piece, because that's what will rip it apart. The wound that never closes, the flesh of the skin. The tape that never really stops running. Yeah

[ramcharantitties]

Rangrez

Chaper 6- Gajgamini

S/n: I AM SORRy this is too late, but you will realize when you read this. You guys are gonna hopefully love it. Also kainat's day to day activities involves rizzing, depression, and happy.

Ram could hear jingling of ghungroo from inside. The door was open, just a curtain draped on the frame, sunlight passing through. Ram's first time to ever visit Kainat's home. On the way he realised that he should probably bring some souvenir, as a token of apology or as a gift for her new place. He stood by the entrance, wrapped mogra in leaves in hand, seeing Kainat whose back was turned towards him.

His gaze couldn't move from her, the sweetness of her ghungroo, white skirt, black blouse, long plaits with a statement hair pin and gold earrings. She walked like a swan, her hips and folds dipping down, and up. Ram could feel his heart hammering in his chest. Every step, every movement of her waist sent him in a frenzy. She finally turned around- he was at lost. And her big eyes stalled on the masculine figure. Kainat's face was glowing in sweat, cheeks blushing and lips plump. Ram stared as if his eyes could devour everything she has to show. Kainat's hand came close to her bosom, and tucked her pallu in her skirt.

Kainat cocked an eyebrow, and just by the movement of her pupils, she asked Ram to sit on the wooden chair. Ram stammered, but managed to be seated. Kainat smiled to herself and bowed just a bit, her hand waving in a graceful manner. "Aadab".

Ram bowed his head in return. Why did he find her so alluring now? Kainat walked to the earthen matka, dipping a steel glass in the cold water. "Delhi is hotter than Lahore" she stated, and could see Ram nodding from her peripheral vision. He couldn't help but stare at her, the droplets of water that missed her lips traveling down from her neck, inside her blouse. Ram looked away. She was always pretty, yes, but why so attractive now?

"What brings you here, Mr. Ramaraju?" Kainat kept a glass of water on the table beside Ram, and Ram could smell the roses rubbed on her skin. She took a few steps back, and sat on the floor in front of him. "Did you bring the flowers for your wife?" Her leg extended from the ruffles of skirt, untying her ghungru.

Ram smirked. "No, they are for you" he said, and kept them on the table. Ram saw her bending to open the knots, her cleavage peaking from the dark, heart shaped blouse. There were intricate designs on sleeves too, and the skirt had a thick work on border. It looked expensive. "You're staring" Kainat didn't have to look up from her business to notice that. Ram smiled and looked away.

"Won't your wife be mad that you got me flowers?" Kainat asked, getting up. Ram nodded. "I am not married" he said, drinking from the glass. "What about any lover?" Kainat kept her ghungru on the table near her, wrapping them in the bag. Ram hummed to deny, still drinking water. "Well you looked like someone who could get used to some pleasure" Kainat's word made Ram choke. He coughed on the water, only to hear Kainat giggle.

She strolled back to sit in front of him on the floor, with Ram's eyes stalking her every movement. "What brings you here? Wasn't insulting me enough in front of everyone?" Ram was surprised to see how easily she said so, no grief or remorse on her face- just a sensual smile and doe eyes. Though, Ram's eyes held deep sorrow. "I came to apologise".

Kainat's eyebrows shot up. "All I got to know from Lahore is that no one knew you or had a complaint against you" Ram said, and he moved down to sit on the floor in front of her. He saw Kainat's downturn face. "What's wrong?" Kainat looked up again, and shook her head with a smile. Ram didn't want to probe, but she looked disappointed. "Tell me" he said.

"It's weird that they said they don't know me. I'm sure they went to my home, asked about me. Rehana aapa would never say she didn't know me." Kainat's voice was just above a whisper. Ram stared at her long face. "It's like being disowned by the very person who shares the same blood, as if she no longer acknowledges my existence. I was expecting her to be upset- but did she really said she didn't know me?" Ram's eyes locked with her eager ones. He couldn't help but just sigh and nod.

"Kainat" the word rolled from Ram's kips, and it held a depth it never did before. "Your value isn't determined by your relations. Or your family's rejections. Now that you have left that behind, don't let it tie you down- rather start building your life in Delhi now." That was the last thing she was expecting from this man. To be kind, and respectful to her? She might have judged him too soon. Kainat nodded, emitting a smile. His reassurance did give some solace- a need of support in the new city.

"Show what you got me?" Kainat said, trying to lighten the mood. Ram beamed and picked up the green packet, unwrapping the thin rope from it. He pulled the white flowers out, and handed them to Kainat. "Pretty" she muttered, taking a whiff from them. Kainat stood up, to put them in her hair by the mirror. Taking a hairpin, she attached them, looking at herself. The flowers did match her with her dress. From the reflection in the mirror, Ram raised his eyebrows to ask if she liked them, and Kainat moved her head like a pigeon, her large earrings moving with her head, and the mogra swinging. She liked them.

Kainat turned around, hand clasped together, a pink blush on her face. Almost immediately, she skipped inside, leaving Ram baffled. Confused, he stood there awkwardly, listening to clang of utensils inside. "I forgot that I have made this, how about you try some?" Kainat made her way out, stirring a bowl with spoon. She handed the copper bowl to Ram, smiling. Ram looked at the colourful dish, probably something sweet. "Wha-" "Mutanjan" "Mutanjan?" Kainat nodded. "Sweet rainbow rice?" She said, hands behind her back, expectantly looking at the brooding man. He took a spoonful, constantly maintaining eye contact with Kainat. The poor girl gulped, feeling hot all over. They stared at each other, when Ram cocked his eyebrow, like Kainat did. He then ate another spoonful of rice, moving his head in agreement, like Kainat did. She laughed, slightly bending forward. If Ram did the same, they might be touching each other then.

Ram and Kainat were back on the floor, as Kainat stared at Ram eating up. "What's your full name?" She asked, hugging her knees. "Alluri Sitaramaraju" he said with a mouthful. "You must be from-" "southern India". Kainat nodded, slowly, resting her chin back on her knees. "Well thank you for that" Ram smiled at the young woman and kept the utensils on the floor. "My uncle would really love this" he continued, and Kainat peered up at him from her eyelashes. Ram's world stopped for the third time now. "He lives with you?" "Hm? Oh, not really. But we meet often. I live near the police barracks" Kainat nodded again, crossing her legs. "You really like my cooking" She said, when Ram looked at the time. He should get going.

He stood up, smiling. "I do, I guess" he looked down to see Kainat's hand reaching up towards him. He clasped it to pull her up, some flowers loosing their hold from her hair. "Why don't you come over?" Kainat's heart filled with excitement upon his question. She nodded aggressively, holding the door as Ram made his way out. "Just ask Akhtar to drop you there" Ram put his shoes on and then put his hands in pocket.

The evening glow filled her eyes with brown honey, and a pink cascade on her face. Ram really tried to look away, but he couldn't. He didn't even notice when her hands reached forward, plucking the rice from his thick moustache. "I'll take my leave now" he muttered, his eyes lost. Kainat nodded. She felt like she should say something- but what? Ram turned around and left, a soft glow in his heart. He fisted the hand he touched her with.

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Tagging: @yehsahihai @definitelyhim @vijayasena @jkdaddy01 @jeniniie @starlight-1010 @ramayantika @lilliebeingdelulu @panikk-attackkk @multifandom-boss-bitch

[octuscle]

I met this man at a bar recently and he was absolutely gorgeous. He’s here shooting a movie but otherwise wasn’t into me at all. Could you possibly make me into an even bigger hotter more muscular movie star so that he’ll notice me and want to get together?

Well… You're not particularly good-looking or charismatic now… No wonder the first contact wasn't particularly successful. But what do you expect with your baggy sweatshirt and ill-fitting jeans?

After the nasty rebuff you received, you're sitting alone at the bar again, looking into your… Whiskey? When did you order a whiskey? You notice that two girls in the corner keep looking over at you, whispering, looking and giggling. One of them gets up and walks towards you. You straighten up, smile at her, she turns bright red, giggles and asks if she can take a selfie. She has an adorable Indian accent. And you reply in Hindi that it would be a pleasure and an honor. She takes the selfie, gives you a kiss on the cheek and runs to her friend, giggling. You finish your whiskey and wave the bartender over to pay. He replies that it would have been an honor to serve you and that the drink is on the house, of course. And a second one if you like. Your crush looks at you questioningly. You accept the second whiskey with thanks and toast the actor. He toasts back and frantically thinks about how he knows you.

It's getting warm in the bar. You unbutton two buttons on your shiny shirt. Like the trousers, which are made of a similar fabric, the shirt fits like it was painted on your body. The bar is getting fuller. Of course, many guests are whispering about your crush. But even more stare at you, want a selfie or ask for your autograph. Many of your fans are glowing-eyed and black-haired. Lots of Indians. Your crush asks you if you're an actor too. The Indian beauty who is taking a selfie with you, pretending to give you a kiss, almost collapses with laughter. She opens Instagram and shows your crush an Instagram account. Your Instagram account. 58 million followers! He turns pale. Very pale. Your skin turns a deep brown. You answer his question with a heavy Indian accent. Yes, you're an actor too. Bollywood is productive. And you are one of the biggest stars. Four to six films a year. And each one is a box office hit. Your fitness videos? Top sellers! Your own fashion collection? A must-have in Delhi, Mumbai and Calcutta. And now also in London and Berlin. You smile your hundred-million-rupee smile. It leaves him speechless. But the bulge in his pants speaks its own language…

For the two young men who ask for a selfie, you throw yourself back into the cool macho pose that half of India loves you for. You give the bartender a 100-pound note as a tip, put on your leather coat and tell your colleague "Savoy, Charlie Chaplin Suite. Ask for John Rolfe". You don't need to look around to know that he's rushing to pay and grab his jacket. Tonight will be a close exchange between Hollywood and Bollywood.

Pic found @maxx-magnum

[featheredclover]

Orphic

Epilogue

Read from the beginning

Also on Wattpad

Chapter Seven>

A burst of champagne bubbled out, glinting against the shine of the beautiful chandelier. That shine still dimmed against the glow Khushi was brimming with.

Her hand firmly ensconced in his, she looked at the happy faces across the hall and let out a sigh of relief.

“Penny for your thoughts?” 

“I am glad we had a small engagement party “

He smiled.

“Yes well, Garima aunty agreed to let go for now. But the wedding is going to have all of Lucknow and Delhi and some more.”

She groaned, “Just when I thought I had to deal with less people! “

“Less people?”

Khushi jumped as her mother joined them.

“My only daughter is getting married. It will be a wedding Lucknow couldn’t have dreamt of witnessing!”

“Of course aunty. Anything you wish”, Arnav said with an endearing wink.

“Traitor”, she muttered under her breath.

And one look at his smug face, she knew he had heard her.

“Come Khushi, you have to greet some of our friends” 

And with that she was stirred across the hall.

—————

“K! This house is massive!”

She smiled at Preetika.

“I don’t even know when Arnav bought it!”

Payal laughed, “Engagement present from Junior Raizada hah?”

“I guess”

“Ladies” Noah greeted them, placing a kiss on Preetika’s blushing cheeks.

With raised eyebrows, the girls coughed away, sharing a meaningful look.

Khushi saw Akash saunter up to them with flutes of champagne held precariously in his hands.

Preeto, not letting the spotlight rest on her, said “So, Akash you have been dating Payal for three years and here Arnav is on the way to be hitched after just a few days! Where is the ring, man?”

“Preeto” Payal warned her with a sharp glance.

To their surprise, Akash instead of his ever ready practical response flushed and took a clumsy sip from his glass.

“Here comes the man of the hour” Noah announced.

“Hello” Arnav slipped an arm around her waist, his eyes flitting over others.

“Nice house Raizada “ Preeto whistled.

“Yes Arnav, it's really beautiful. When are you giving us a tour?” 

“Thank you. Um…the house is not finished yet. Even this drawing room was done up just in time for today”

Khushi glanced up at him curiously. She also hadn't seen the rest of the house. It felt strange. To know that by the end of the year, they’ll live here as man and wife. He will belong to her.

Whirlwind romance was too tame a term to describe their tale, she thought with a secret smile.

“Come with me” his whisper flooded her senses.

“Where?” she whispered back.

He said nothing. His eyes seducing her against her sense of common propriety.

Escaping? From their own engagement party?

——————

They stood in front of a beautifully embossed door. 

“Are we going to go in or….”

“Shush” he took out a set of keys.

He picked one and opened the door, motioning for her to go in first.

She stepped in. Her gasp echoed across the room.

A beautiful oak wood table dominated the room. Shelves and shelves lined with books. The curtains in her favourite shade of green. 

And the best of all, a magnificent velvet red chair.

“You didn’t!”

“Do you like it?”

She turned around to see Arnav look around, his hands in his pocket, the firm set of his lips giving his nerves away.

She smiled and turned towards the shelves.

“You bought these?” she asked as she ran a hand along the binding of ‘ Interior designing: The Bible’.

“I had a little help from your aunt”, his eyes wide, seemingly still searching for her approval.

She walked towards the chair. She settled herself, crossed her legs and flashed him a smile.

“Khushi,” he warned.

“What? No whiskey tonight?” She giggled.

Her smile dipped for a moment, as Arnav reached for a desk behind him.

Flashing a beautiful gold whisky flask at her, he poured down a glass.

“You are indeed a devil!” 

He raised a perfect eyebrow.

“A devil?”

“Yup” she said with much glee.

“So that makes you an angel, hah?” He handed her the glass, “An angel who trapped the devil”

She took a sip, feeling the burn down her throat, warming her chest.

“It’s the other way around Arnav”

“Really?” He bent his head down to take a sip from the glass, locking his eyes with hers.

Khushi swallowed. 

Damn him

He rested his arms on the chair’s edge and took her lips in a rough kiss. He tasted of their shared whiskey and something more. Something inherently Arnav.

She melted against him, her lips moving softly against his pressure. He slowed the kiss down, taking her breath away.

Blinking, as he kissed her forehead.

“This is your new office “

“New office?”

“Yes, my gift to you. And well with your aunt's blessings.”

“You are giving me an office” she cupped his face as the implications of the gesture sank in.

Her own office 

She gasped as she was lifted off the chair into his arms.

“Arnav” she admonished as her arms winded around his neck.

“I am going to be your husband Khushi, and it’s my duty to know every little dream. Every little wish of yours”

She gave him a watery smile, her heart marvelling at the man she had fallen in love with.

Planting a soft kiss on her cheek, he mumbled into her ear, “Let’s head back before they send the CBI behind us, shall we?”

She laughed, her eyes filled with love.

“Let’s “ she said solemnly .

Arnav grinned. And she was lost once again.

The End

Thank you for reading 'Orphic'! Inspired by the era of vintage mills and boon romances, it's a story I really enjoyed writing! Let me know what you think of the story (and also any suggestions to improve my writing) !

Tagging: @arshifiesta

@hand-picked-star @phuljari @msbhagirathi @thenainitaldisaster @thedupattaknowswhatsup @jalebi-weds-bluetooth @barshifan @andli @shiyaravi @chutkiandchotte @laad-governess @minpdnim @bigfatreader @arshiradio @simplycurlz @scorpio-smiles @bengudill @exosexosekai @0218fm

[thaerfaresfamily]

Hello, compassionate souls,

My name is Mehdi Vahedi. I graduated from Hamdard University in New Delhi India. I know Thaer from the university dormitory. I know Thaer since 2011. He was studying masters of computer science and I was studying Bachelors of information technology.

Currently I'm living in Toronto, Canada. I wish to help my friend Thaer by helping him rebuild his life. I'm planning to raise money for him. I will transfer the fund through western union to him. The following is Thaer's story:

I am Thaer Al-Habbash, a 35-year-old web programmer and a devoted family man from Gaza, Palestine. With a heavy heart, I reach out to you today to share the tale of my family's struggle amidst the chaos of war and displacement.

Life was once simple and content in our modest home in Khan Yunis. My wife, Enas, and our three precious daughters, Talin, Miral, and Nour, filled our days with laughter and love. However, the relentless bombardment and devastation inflicted upon Gaza have shattered our world.

The war robbed me of my job and rendered our home uninhabitable, forcing us to flee to Rafah, where we now seek refuge in the homes of relatives. But even here, danger lurks in every corner, with the constant fear of missiles and explosions haunting our nights.

Despite my aspirations of furthering my education and securing a better future for my family, the harsh realities of our situation have dashed those dreams. Yet, amidst the despair, a glimmer of hope remains.

I humbly appeal to your kindness and generosity to help us rebuild our shattered lives. With your support, I aim to travel to Egypt, where I can seek opportunities to provide for my family and pursue my dream of obtaining a doctorate in computer science. The journey ahead is daunting, with financial burdens weighing heavily upon us. We estimate needing approximately $100,000 (Canadian dollars) to make this dream a reality.

Your donations will not only help us escape the turmoil of Gaza but also pave the way for a brighter future filled with peace, stability, and opportunities. Every contribution, no matter how small, will make a world of difference in our journey toward rebuilding our lives.

Please join hands with us in this noble endeavor. Together, we can turn the tide of despair into a wave of hope. Thank you for your compassion and support.

Just watch the video

My family life

With heartfelt gratitude,

Thaer Al-Habbash and family

[carionto]

Light the Fuse and Step Forth

At the Old Delhi Institute of Natural Science and Engineering, after a bit of a panic over a missing student who had merely went on an unannounced diving trip, Professor Iorvan Hal'Ahmat Garaamhan was having some trouble.

His life was boring.

He's 46, single, no kids, a cat, tenure, routine hobbies, and going bald. All his friends are about as boring as him. Except for Ruth, she usually gets the group together for an excursion to touch grass, but she volunteered to help establish a new branch of the institute in East Egypt over the next two years, and she's kind of the glue for their whole friend group.

Maybe he should take a vacation? But where... Earth is Earth - been there, done that; and he's not a fan of space travel either, too many weirdos up there, and really does not agree with all this moon cracking and harvesting business. Seeing footage of them smushing three moons together for that idiotic Death Kebab project really turned him off from all of that space and aliens nonsense.

Noticing a small notebook that had apparently fallen beneath one of the desks, he picked it up to see who it belonged to. It was an unassuming thing with no distinct markings on the outside. As he flipped the cover over, he saw it belonged to a freshmen named Cintra Valkeim, and was about to close it, but a strange line of symbols caught his eye.

"Professor? Is everything alright?" a voice suddenly interrupted his browsing. When did he get to the last page? When did he move closer to the window? Closing the notebook by impulse as he looked up at the voice, it was Cintra. She appeared a little nervous and worried. Putting his professional smile back on, he walked towards her and held out the notebook.

"I believe this is yours. I noticed it had fallen down. Be more careful next time, the cleaning drones don't check ownership themselves and simply dump anything they don't recognize as trash into the lost and found bin." he said as she took the notebook back.

"I will, thank you." She appeared to consider saying more, but closed her mouth and turned to briskly walk away.

Not thinking about it any more, Professor Garaamhan started to pack up his things and head out for lunch, when students for his next class, not due for another hour, started pouring in. Confused, he checked for the time and to his dismay found it had already been over an hour since the previous class ended. Did he really stand around for an hour, transfixed on

What was he doing for an hour?

He picked something up, then said goodbye to a student, but everything in between is hazy. Something was strange, and he didn't like it.

His stomach growled, and he didn't like that either.

Making an executive decision, he quickly scribbled an overly complex task meant for senior students, said anyone who correctly solves this gets extra credit, which immediately got almost all of the sophomores to shut up, sit down, and start working, then he walked off to have a meal.

The next day, as Iorvan was heading for the staff room, he noticed a strange light coming from beneath the closed door of an empty classroom. It was pulsating slightly, like a heartbeat. Without thinking, he put his hand on the handle, but froze before turning it open.

For the briefest of moments, every cell in his body screamed to not open the door. The fear that engulfed him dissipated just as quickly, as a student approached him with a question. They asked something, he answered, both said their goodbyes, and he could not remember what he was doing. Snapping back to reality, he went to the staff room and had a normal day.

That night, going through tomorrows assignments, a notebook with no markings seemed to appear in his stack of documents.

He opened it, noticed a student named Cintra Valkeim was the owner, looked at the scribbles on the side

He awoke in a hospital bed. He felt anemic. His eyes were burning, mouth parched, lips like sand, and a splitting headache made him wish somebody would knock him out cold.

A nurse rushed in as soon as the automated system informed the staff he was awake, delivered the painkillers, and gave him some water. She explained that they found him unconscious in his apartment after the institute and his friends failed to make contact with him for three days in a row. He had been sitting at his desk, and the muscle damage indicated he had remained almost unmoving for the entire time, but fully tensed up.

Three days? What was he doing? He couldn't remember anything out of the ordinary, and when the paramedic who arrived on the scene came by, what she described to him gave no impression of anything different either.

Over the next week, fellow staff, some students he had worked closely with on their thesis projects, and one of his friends came over to see how he is, what happened, etc. Nobody became wiser from any of this. Everything was normal.

After being discharged, he decided to not think too hard about the incident. The stress of a mundane existence got to him, is the explanation he went with.

As he went about his day back at the institute as normal, he walked by a empty classroom that had a strange pulsating light coming from beneath the closed door. He was about to open the door, but noticed he was holding an unassuming notebook in his hand.

"Open the door, please."

A young female voice spoke softly from behind.

He used his other hand to reach for the handle and opened the door and stepped forth into the light.

His world ended. The universe ended. Then it began.

Fast forward to the present.

He is underwater.

The pressure crushes him before he can recognize what is happening.

Then he is underwater again. Not crushed this time.

A voice that is not a voice, more like a decree from existence itself, embeds into his mind. His mind goes blank, and he dies, again.

Once more underwater. The voice is a voice this time.

L E A R N

is all Iorvan understands before passing out, once again.

He steps out of the dark empty classroom and greets Cintra, who was standing behind him earlier.

"I believe this is yours. Third time now, you really need to be more careful about leaving your things behind, Ms Valkeim." he gently reprimands her as she takes the notebook from him again.

"I promise I will, truly. Sorry, Professor Garaamhan. See you later!" are the last words out of her before rushing off to her next class.

Flipping through his own notebook, Iorvan jots down a series of impossible symbols as he walks down the hall to his own next lecture.

[related context]

[enigma-the-mysterious]

WIP Wednesday: 28/8/24

Read the rules and join the community

All recent WIPs from RRR because that's what has consumed my brain

1. Bheem's thoughts after the betrayal: What it says on the tin. Angst, angst, angst and more angst. There isn't enough Bheem trauma fics in the fandom and I am here to fix that

2. Aftermath of Bheem's arrest: Fucktons of angst and Ram being emo and self destructive as usual

3. Inspired: Bheem still has nightmares about the events at Delhi. He and Ram talk. Angst with comfort

4. Ram patches Bheem up after the flogging: What it says on the tin. Missing scene. Hurt, angst and slight (????) comfort.

5. Ram's guilt about the flogging: What it says on the tin. Post movie. Angst with comfort

Snippet from WIP 4:

In a corner of the cramped cell, the tribal man lay, curled up and unmoving. Deep, ugly gashes littered his frame. He wore a dark, tattered kurta and a red dhoti.

With a sinking feeling in his stomach, Dr. Morgan realized that the dhoti had not always been red.

Blood.

The air was thick with its smell. Just like it was at the whipping post.

Dr. Morgan marched past the officer and came to kneel beside the prisoner.

He gently patted his arm. "Hello? Mister, can you hear me?"

As Dr. Morgan had feared, there was no response from the prisoner. He pressed his thumb on his neck, feeling for the carotid and heaved a sigh of relief upon finding a thready pulse.

"I need some help here," he said, turning towards the officer, who was still standing at the entrance, his gaze fixed on the prisoner.

"I said, I need some help here," Dr Morgan repeated, louder and curter, when he got no response from the officer either.

"Yes?" The officer finally looked at him. Blinked. Then repeated, firmer, "yes."

There was a shuffling of feet and then the officer was on the other side of the prisoner, hands slipping under his armpits, first turning him over so he was no longer lying face first on the dirty floor, then resting his head over his chest.

Be gentle, was on the tip of Dr Morgan's tongue, but that proved wholly unnecessary. The officer was not rough in his handling. There were no sudden movements, no jostling, no unnecessary touches over the prisoner's numerous wounds.

There was something to be said about the sickening irony of the situation. The tormentor forced to treat his victim with a gentle hand, to help the doctor heal him from the very wounds he had painfully carved on his flesh, all so they could derive pleasure from his execution shortly after. The awareness creeped into Dr Morgan's veins like ice- that the only reason he was here was to remedy the officer's failure to kill the Gond rebel at the whipping post.

A humiliating death, the officer had said.

[calaisreno]

Letters

“You really have moved on, haven’t you?” His former landlady grins at him.

“Mrs Hudson—”

“Oh, I almost forgot. You’ve got some mail. I know, I might have sent it on to you, but I kept expecting you’d come by.” She holds out a small stack of mail. “Nothing very important looking. No bills.”

“It’s fine. You’re right. I should have called or stopped by after…” Flipping through the envelopes, he sees that it’s mostly junk, but there are three addressed in a familiar hand, narrow and angular, not particularly legible. “It’s fine.”

He says his goodbyes to Mrs Hudson, promises to come by again soon. 

Heading home on the bus, he studies the three envelopes. Each is addressed to Dr John H Watson, 221B Baker Street, London, NW1 6XE, UK. The first was postmarked somewhere in Nepal, April of 2012. The second bears a New Delhi postmark and is dated a year after the first, April of 2013. The final one is recent, just weeks earlier, mailed from Istanbul. He doesn’t open them. 

Closing his eyes, he tries not to think. 

I can tell you what you can do. You can stop being dead.

Mary’s not home when he arrives at their flat, and for some reason he’s relieved to be alone. He pours himself a drink, sits down, and looks at the first envelope. 

The envelope is just a normal envelope, somewhat squarer than a business letter. What’s inside feels like card stock. The other two envelopes are identical. 

When he’s satisfied that the outside has no more clues, he uses a knife to slit the top flap and slides the contents out. 

Happy Birthday. A bunch of multicoloured balloons. Inside: I’m sending this card / As I wanted to say / I hope you have / A truly amazing day.

Written below, by the same hand that addressed the envelope: I heard you.

He thinks about that birthday, over two years ago. He remembers coming home, finding Sherlock on the sofa, contemplating some problem. 

Before he can dwell on that memory, he opens the second. Another birthday card, this one with birds and flowers, the kind of card you’d buy for an acquaintance, not a relative or friend. Everything your heart desires / Is what I wish for you / Not only on your birthday / But throughout the whole year too!

Another handwritten message: I’m sorry I can’t be with you today. 

The final envelope was sent in early September. What’s inside is another card, a generic lighthouse scene, the moon over a calm sea. There is no verse, just a handwritten message: I’ll see you soon.

Taking a deep breath, he rubs the tears from his eyes. 

The note he leaves for Mary is a bit terse, maybe even cryptic. They were supposed to have dinner tonight, and he’d made reservations. He might cancel, but she was looking forward to it, so he just tells her to invite a friend. He passes the jewellery store, doesn’t stop inside to pick up the ring. 

Instead, he heads back to Baker Street. Hearing sounds in the flat above, he moves quietly up the stairs.

He’s standing at the window, looking out. From behind, he looks much the same. Thinner, perhaps. He might sense a presence behind him, and turns his head. When he sees who it is, he turns all the way towards the door, smiling. The dead-white tinge of his skin tells John that he hasn’t been leading a healthy life. And somehow, he found the time to mail John three birthday cards. 

Sherlock is silent, his eyes wide. John can’t think of a single thing to say. 

“I didn’t know,” John finally says, stepping towards him. “You must have had your reasons, but I wish…”

The grey eyes overflow. “John.” His voice is rough with emotion. “I’m so sorry.”

There must be no more distance between them, no more silence. Putting his arms around the thin ghost of his friend, he says, “Welcome back.”

663 Words / Flash Fiction

This is a sequel to the last two: Green and Burn. Less angst, more realisations. 💕

I'm not sure if anyone is still interested in doing this, but I plan to fill out the month. You can read the rest of my ficlets HERE.

If anyone wants to suggest a prompt/scenario, please do!

@raina-at @lisbeth-kk @meetinginsamarra @keirgreeneyes @totallysilvergirl @momma2boys @helloliriels @elwinglyre

Let me know if you wish to be un-tagged. Or tagged ;-)

[coolheadofficial]

Heatwave incident

After my evening walk, i was coming home. Drenched with sweat rushing through the crowd in the market, i got a glance of a girl crying behind the ice cream stroll. She was the same age of mine. It took me some time to register and what was happening. I took pity on her.

For the confirmation of what my eyes just captured, i took a sudden twist. I heard a scream from side. This aunty who was behind me, half fell with the expression of disgust towards me. I did saw her in slow motion, trying to balance her weight with those of onions and potatoes. In retrospect my leg might have touched her knee.

Ignoring what she was telling me because my eyes had found its target, the girl. The girl was just sweating and wiping her sweat from checks.

What followed was so embarrassing. I was accused of pushing the aunty. And the aunty keeps saying weird shit, like i don't know how to walk, and don't have eyes. That was really embarrassing for me and that too in front of the whole market.

More disappointing was that the girl wasn't even in a trauma or crying. This enraged me up. I paced toward the girl, and shot her point blank.

Ice cream man gave me tutti frutti choco bar for free. I even tried to give him money. Nope he didn't take it. That really restored my hope in humanity.

I turned, and shot the aunty as well. You know, as they say in corporate. Appreciate the good employee and fire the bad ones.

The market went silent for a while, but no one stopped me. I returned home. Took a bath. Rested myself in the small space that i pay for in delhi. There are just too many people here. I live with two rohingyas myself. I don't know where they came from. They just appear. They are good citizens though, gave votes unlike me. Both have weird faces.

By the nightfall, The Police knocked at my house. I wasn't surprised. They took me in custody. They took a swift response and present me in front of the court, same night.

Finally i am out on bail. Writing this. . Also, I was found to be under the influence of Sun. I am told to engulf 1-2 kg of glucose powder everyday. I was told to write about the incidence in 300+ words essay .

That's why i am telling you all about this. Please give be feedback. Thanks for reading

[beardedmrbean]

Aug. 5 (UPI) -- Bangladesh's embattled prime minister, Sheikh Hasina, resigned Monday and fled the country after protesters stormed her official residence in the capital amid a growing revolt that began over quotas for government jobs in which hundreds of mostly protesters have died.

The announcement from the head of the army, Gen. Waker-uz-Zaman, came after security forces were overwhelmed by thousands of people incensed by a violent government crackdown descending on the Sher-e-Bangla Nagar area of Dhaka, setting cars and offices ablaze.

Footage circulating online shows protesters celebrating inside Hasina's residence, removing furniture and elsewhere in the city trying to tear down a statue of her father, Sheikh Mujibur Rahman, former prime minister and leader of the country's independence movement, who was assassinated in 1975.

Promising the formation of an interim government, Zaman pleaded with demonstrators to call off their protests.

"Whatever demands you have, we will fulfil and bring back peace to the nation, please help us in this, stay away from violence," said Zaman who promised the military would also back off.

"The military will not fire at anyone, the police will not fire at anyone, I have given orders."

Hasina arrived by helicopter in India at a military airbase 17 miles east of Delhi on Monday evening with the BBC reporting that she may be en route to London, citing unconfirmed reports.

A spokesman for British Prime Minister Keir Starmer said Monday that he wanted to see urgent action to "ensure democracy" won out -- but made no mention of Hasina coming to Britain or any discussions regarding where she might go into exile.

"The right to peaceful protest must be protected and never subjected to violence, and we call on the authorities to release all peaceful protesters and ensure due process is followed for those charged and prosecuted," he added.

"I hope that swift action is taken to ensure that democracy prevails and accelerate the process towards peace and security to people in Bangladesh."

Hasina's son, Sajeeb Wazed Joy, said she had been considering resigning for the past 24 hours and had left the country for her own safety at the insistence of her family.

He rejected the accusations leveled at the 76-year-old of outstaying her welcome after four terms totaling more than two decades during which she gradually morphed from the democratic icon catapulted into office in a people power uprising into an authoritarian leader amid crackdowns on dissent and allegations of graft.

"She has turned Bangladesh around. When she took over power it was considered a failing state. It was a poor country. Until today it was considered one of the rising tigers of Asia. She's very disappointed."

In Dhaka, demonstrators ignored an evening curfew as unrest and looting continued into the night with demonstrators breaching the gates and damaging the residence of Home Minister Asaduzzaman Khan in the Dhanmondi area of the capital where smoke was seen coming from the building.

Protesters torched the city's Mujibur museum.

Northeast of Dhaka, 150 miles away in Sylhet, the offices of the deputy commissioner and superintendent of police and the homes of several councilors were attacked.

Hasina's resignation came a day after more than 90 people were killed Sunday during clashes between anti-government protesters and police -- 13 of whom were among those killed after thousands of people attacked a police station in the northwestern district of Sirajganj.

Sunday's casualties brought the death toll to 280 since early July when student protests over the partial reinstatement by the courts of civil service recruitment quotas -- where sought-after government jobs were reserved for supporters of Hasina's ruling Awami League -- erupted into wider, and violent, anti-government unrest.

Government crackdown efforts escalated from tear gas and rubber bullets to live fire, curfews and Internet blackouts bringing hundreds of thousands more people onto the streets demanding change and ultimately Hasina's resignation.

Student organizers had called Sunday for a national non-cooperation government boycott under which people would refuse to pay taxes and utility bills.

[cyndaquillt]

Ok I feel like writing a long essay on Indian elections so I'm gonna do just that. Full disclaimer though, I'm just airing my thoughts out and I'm just as much of the general public as anyone else. In other words, I'm not a social scientist. While I welcome healthy discussion, if I don't find the strength in me to answer to a certain reply, I simply won't and I hope you understand and forgive me.

With that out of the way, I'm coming out of my optimism bubble to take a stock of things. At this point (6:19 am IST), the counting has been done. It's apparent that BJP did not win the clear majority they were hoping for. In fact, they could only get about ~36% of the total votes, which means majority of seats in the Lok Sabha belong to parties that are not in the BJP. This is a huge deal, despite it being apparent that NDA WILL make the government and by extension, Modi may get elected for PM for a third term.

However, there's the matter of how tightly knit the NDA itself is. At this point NDA holds 292 seats. If JD(U) and TDP (i.e. Nitish and Chandrababu Naidu) flip, NDA loses 16+12 seats leaving them at 264 seats, i.e. below the 272 mark. If only JD(U) flips, they are at 280 and a majority and if only TDP flips, they are at 276, still a majority (See ECI's website for seat tally by party). While all hinges on what Nitish gets offered today and what conversations Chandrababu Naidu has in Delhi today, neither have given conclusive statements towards their intent, and on the contrary, TDP seems to be leaning towards staying in the NDA. For the current government to truly fall, BOTH TDP and JD(U) will have to fall out of the NDA, which is a very optimistic outcome and seems unlikely.

Let's consider both outcomes actually, I wanna do a thought experiment for myself to see how things would turn out if NDA forms the govt vs if INDIA forms the govt.

Option 1 : NDA holds the majority and forms the govt

Very likely Modi will come back for a third term but now there's a sizeable opposition majority in the Lok Sabha. And if systems work the way they should, this should at the very least provide some friction to motions BJP has had ease with passing in the past decade.

Certain ministries will probably be given to non-BJP members. As someone from Bihar I know for a FACT that Nitish is going to push for Something Big. I'm not going to make any conclusive statements about Nitish or Chandrababu Naidu or idk, Chirag Paswan taking up a ministry, but that is a possibility, for better or worse.

Depending on whoever takes up whatever ministry, if the core of the polities remain what the current BJP govt has executed, not much may change. Privatization of telecom services leading to death of BSNL and MTNL to death of Doordarshan/rise of sold out and censored media to increasing gas subsidy to tanking the value of the Indian Rupee, or literally any aspect of daily life that the current government made us used to like slow boiling frogs, may just remain the same or change veeery slowly. Since BJP is at the core of the NDA and still has a sizeable presence, this remains the most apparent possibility.

I do think the divisive, supremacist politics might deescalate. Not because BJP or NDA are going to be soooo nice all of a sudden, but because this election has shown that it clearly doesn't work. Eg: Manipur used to be a BJP stronghold. From 2007 to 2015, I have been in close contact with Manipuri friends who really believed BJP had potential to do great things for Manipur. And yet here we are. They instigated communities that were coexisting for ages to fight, left a trail of blood, ruined people's lives, and even lost the state. Also bringing Manipur in as an example because what happened in Ayodhya is already a national joke at this point. Modi almost lost Varanasi. If there's any lesson to take away from these experiences, it's to cut back on divisive politics.

Option 2 : INDIA forms the govt

I'm actually not sure who the PM would be. Rahul? Akhilesh? I actually don't like the alternative of Akhilesh being a PM tbh. His failure to understand the needs of the people in 2010s is what paved the way for Yogi Adityanath to win UP. Not that Yogi did a great job and solved everything, but BJP's whole pitch in 2014 was that they were coming in as 'underdogs' to throw out dynastic politics like the kind SP or INC play. Which of course, is a fucking joke seeing that Chirag Paswan or Pradyot Manikya Deb Barma (a literal prince!) are in the NDA this time, but I digress. I was in Varanasi at the time when Akhilesh was the CM of UP and he was pandering at best! I vaguely remember the biggest news was him giving laptops for free to girls who graduate from the state board but that was all! He was passive and BJP+Yogi took advantage of that! Rahul poses a similar issue, but I am overall just worried about whoever ends up as the PM, would perhaps be more of a figurehead than holding together a strong opposition, and that would mean an NDA/BJP opposition would eat them up for breakfast.

When you speak with people who are in denial of media being sold, their counterargument is almost always 'there were so many scams on the news before 2014! Now there are none!' Well, yeah, cause news media is a literal joke now. But they aren't wrong about the scams either! The thing is, there is next to no politician in the current political landscape who isn't a slave to power. Corruption won't go away. Scams won't go away. But will the media actually report them when people in power are involved in it? I'm actually not sure anymore......

Which also makes me think of how much will things actually change? And who will change them? Listen, I grew up in 90s and 2000s Bihar under the Lalu regime as a minority middle class with two state govt office workers for parents. 'Don't trust anyone in power' is in my DNA. I have also seen Nitish flip the landscape of Bihar and bring in resources we'd never even imagined. But core problems still stay. From casteism to corruption to infrastructure issues to brain drain, all issues remain. Simply using Bihar as a toy model, I lose hope of any rapid progress even under a drastic change of leadership. While it would be certain that this government would be Left-Center, I would be highly skeptical of whether or not they'll scrape all right wing policies. Not to mention Amrit Pal won?? Shiv Sena is in power??? Yeah it's a much more complicated and treacherous path up ahead, even if this option may be the most optimistic alternative.

This election was an important one. Preceeding this were whole movements (eg : farmers protests, CAA/NRC protests, etc), a pandemic that brought forth gaping holes in the health infrastructure, agitations that shook entire regions, and that's only scraping the top of the public outcry against the current government. In a democracy, riots, protests, movements are as much a voice of the people as votes and clearly these manifested as votes in this election. While this election day was extremely entertaining and the memes are fun, I do want to remind myself and others that communalism, casteism, regionalism, religious bigotry, corruption, and partisanship aren't simply going away. It will take work to undo things and even more work to right the wrongs that have been around since wayyy before 2014. But I do hope this is the beginning of something positive 🤞🤞

[hiddenmantrasblog]

Republic Day Speech in English

Hello everyone,

It is a great honor to stand before you on this special occasion of Republic Day, celebrated every year on the 26th of January. This day holds immense significance as it marks the adoption of the Constitution of India in 1950, turning our nation into a democratic republic. A Republic Day speech in English is a wonderful opportunity to express the values of patriotism, equality, and freedom that bind us as Indians.

Republic Day reminds us of the sacrifices made by countless freedom fighters and leaders who envisioned an independent and progressive India. They gave us a Constitution that empowers every citizen, regardless of caste, religion, or gender. Delivering a Republic Day speech in English allows us to share this powerful message with the world, emphasizing the principles of justice, liberty, and fraternity.

This day also showcases the strength of our armed forces and their dedication to safeguarding the nation. The grand parade in New Delhi is a reflection of our cultural diversity and technological advancements. A Republic Day speech in English is a chance to encourage everyone to uphold the integrity of our nation and contribute towards its growth.

Let us celebrate this Republic Day with pride and a promise to make India better every day.

Thank you!

Discover more at https://hiddenmantra.com/special-days-2025/republic-day-speech-in-english/

[sewagetreatmentplant01]

Netsol Water: Leader in Sewage Treatment Plant Manufacturers in Delhi

Water pollution is turning into a global crisis, as industries and urban centers produce massive amounts of wastewater each day. In populous areas like Delhi, the challenge of an effective sewage treatment has never come at such a crucial juncture. Netsol Water is one of the best Sewage Treatment Plant Manufacturers in Delhi, providing best solutions for waste waste management.

Untreated water is one of the major threats to public health, ecosystems, and the environment. It ruins the freshness of fresh-water sources, poses a threat to aquatic life and may unleash a waterborne diseases upsurge. And so comes companies like Netsol Water, breathing hope and practical solutions.

Netsol Water: A Brief Overview

With a mission to come out strongly with this vision in solving the needs of India pertaining to water treatment, Netsol Water has picked up the pace in this multiple-choice game-like environment of Delhi. The firm offers systems for designing, manufacturing, and installing the most sewage treatment plants (STPs) specifically designed according to the diversified needs of various industries.

 

What's special about Netsol Water?

Customized Solutions: Netsol Water knows that no two places are alike when it comes to sewage treatment. They thus ensure that solutions put in place specifically target the problem at hand and also meet the local regulatory compliances, based on their work with clients.

Latest Technology: By being on the forefront of water treatment technology, Netsol Water ensures efficiency, cost-effectiveness, and environmental friendliness of plants.

Comprehensive Services: Netsol Water offers complete services right from consultancy to installation and then next-line maintenance, thus making it a one-stop shop for all types of sewage treatment requirements.

Commitment towards Sustainability: Netsol Water doesn't treat water; it does water management sustainably with industries.

Science behind Netsol Water's Sewage Treatment Plants

Need of the Multistage Process Netsol Water STPs efficiently employ a multi-stage process so that polluted wastewater becomes usable clean water. A basic description of how such plants function would include the following:

Preliminary Treatment: It removes big debris and waste by screening and grit removal.

Primary Treatment: Sedimentation tanks allow suspended solids to settle, thereby reducing the overall pollutant load.

Secondary Treatment: Organic matter is broken down through biological processes that work through activated sludge or other microorganisms.

Tertiary Treatment: Final filtration and disinfection take away any remaining impurities and pathogens.

Sludge Management: Byproducts from the treatment process are managed safely and are frequently reused for beneficial purposes.

This multi-stage approach ensures that the water leaving Netsol Water's STPs meets or exceeds regulation standards; such water can be safely discharged or reused.

Netsol Water Changing Industries

Netsol Water caters to the diversified sectors, so its versatility can be seen in the diversified sectors that it caters to. Some of these sectors are as follows:

Textile and Dye Industries: Wastewater produced by this section of industries is heavily polluted. So they easily require the specialist treatment solutions of Netsol Water. 

Pharmaceutical Companies: Sewage produced from drug manufacturing should be handled with care. To this, Netsol Water provides precision.

Food and Beverage Producers: From dairy plants to breweries, Netsol Water helps these businesses handle their organic-rich wastewater effectively.

Chemical Sector: Netsol Water's advanced technologies overcome the intricate chemical Sewages.

Automotive Industry: Netsol Water provides the automotive manufacturing and servicing industries with overall wastewater treatment solutions.

Environmental Impact of Netsol Water Delhi

Being one of the top Sewage Treatment Plant Manufacturer in Delhi, Netsol Water has been significantly contributing towards Delhi's environment. With effective wastewater treatment solutions, Netsol Water is assisting in all the ways:

Clean up pollution in the Yamuna River, which is Delhi's primary source of water

Reduce contamination and consequently boost the quality of groundwater

Improve public health by reducing probable waterborne diseases

Support the sustainable goals for the development of Delhi

Innovations and Future Outlook

Netsol Water does not boast of resting on its oars. The company keeps abreast of emerging challenges in water treatment with continuous innovations. A few areas of focus are:

Energy Efficiency: Developing treatment processes that consume less energy, thereby reducing the carbon footprint of STPs. 

Water Reuse Technologies: Enhanced techniques to make treated water suitable for various industrial and agriculture applications. 

Smart Monitoring Systems: Implementing IoT-based solutions for real-time monitoring and optimization of treatment plants.

Modular Designs: Creating scalable modular designs of STPs which can easily expand or change as and when the need arises.

Why Netsol Water?

For the sewage treatment requirements of any business firm at Delhi, Netsol Water offers:

Specialized Consultation: Professional experts to calculate exact requirements.

Tailor-made Design: Space-suitable, budget-suitable, and requirement-suitable STPs.

Installation Process: No Disruption in Its Services.

Comprehensive Training: Your manpower operates and maintains the STP

Ongoing Support: Maintenance and Troubleshooting services are provided to ensure the continuity of the plant.

Conclusion: A Greener Future with Netsol Water

In the middle of the ongoing rapid growth phase of the city, Delhi cannot afford to have anything short of industry-level wastewater management. Netsol Water stands at the forefront of this critical industry: With innovative, reliable, and sustainable solutions for sewage treatment. Netsol Water is top on Sewage Treatment Plant Manufacturer in Delhi, offering solutions for waste waster.

Therefore, by opting for Netsol Water, a Delhi based company would be abiding by the rules of the land while creating an environment for the generations to come that will be cleaner and healthier. And with such companies like Netsol Water, we do have hope for the future because the right technology combined with the right commitment can significantly assist in conquering the obstacles presented in front of us by water pollution and creating a more sustainable world.

Whether a small businessman or industrial giant, if you are based in Delhi and battling against wastewater issues, there is hope for you, perhaps in the form of Netsol Water, transforming those battles into opportunities for environmental stewardship.