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Saved by @CodyyyGardner

This isn't a story set in the year everyone loves to hate. In fact, that was a pretty good year for Rahul. It suited him well. He was anyway an expert at staying indoors and shunning human company. +

 He liked nothing more than to make two packets of Maggi using three sachets of tastemaker, a cup of tea brewed for precisely 150 seconds, and then settle down on his chair that was specifically chosen because it could rest the plate and cup on its broad arms. And a book too. +
He'd sit there and think thoughts like 'Even my name is so lame. It's the default option every copywriter uses while writing an ad about a young executive. Don't they know most Rahuls are in their fifties now?' +
Anyway, what I am about to narrate happened a year before the big bad one. On the day that the world has arbitrarily decided to burden with great import. New Year's Eve. A day that really meant nothing to Rahul. But late that evening basic arithmetic caught up with him. +
He had run out of tastemaker. There were six packets of noodles on his shelf, their throats slit, robbed of their magical sachets with the mysterious powers. Sealed with rubber bands, the packets stared back blandly at Rahul. +
He needed that Maggi fix. His book was at a great juncture. He had a fresh supply of orange pekoe. The arms of his chair waited in anticipation. So, late that New Year's Eve, he stepped out. Not realising his life would change forever. +
That very evening, Rosy was walking aimlessly down the streets. Her long legs taking one desultory step after the other. She had a fringe that tumbled down her pretty forehead, and bounced with every step she took. +
Knots of young men were being annoyingly boisterous. Laughing louder than the jokes deserved. Back slapping and punching each other, as men do. Like Rahul, Rosy hated her name too. It was an open invitation for heckling, taunting, teasing. +
And her neighbourhood was infested with hecklers, taunters, and teasers. 'Hey Rosy, ek nazar idhar bhi!' 'What Rosy? All alone today? Where's that stud you were canoodling with yesterday?'. Then there was the whistling. She detested that more than anything else. +
She knew it wasn't a good idea to be out alone. Drunk drivers, high spirited men with low inhibitions, loud music that demanded loud behaviour. But she had been in an ugly spat, and had walked out in a rage. Under her fringe, hid a vicious scratch that was still pounding. +
Meanwhile Rahul went from shop to de-maggified shop searching for his fix. Why had it disappeared from the shelves so suddenly? Unknown to him, had it become an ingredient of new year roistering? The more he was turned down, the more he craved it. +
He too saw the noisy revellers. They had no interest in him. He was literally the walking definition of boring to them. He had walked a long way from home and was getting tired. He wanted to be back in his cave. The merrymakers seemed to be celebrating his predicament. +
Rosy needed to sit down to stop the pummeling in her head. She had reached the promenade. People were all over it like an oil spill in the sea. She spotted a single bench tucked out of view. An oasis of calm missed by the marauding hordes. She quickened her pace to get there. +
Once there, she curled her legs up beneath her, and hugged herself tightly to keep warm, as a cool breeze began to blow. That was exactly when Rahul saw the secluded bench too. And thought he'd rest his aching feet a bit before the long trudge home. +
It was only when he reached the bench he realised there was someone there. Huddled. Coiled. Ignoring the world around her. After a second's hesitation, he overcame his instinct to shun company. There was something serene about the moment. He sat down. And felt at peace. +
They sat together quietly for several minutes. On that quiet New Year Eve, both of them waited patiently for the other to make the first move. Rahul finally reached out and, very gently ruffled the curls on Rosy's forehead.+
Rosy looked up at Rahul with her limpid eyes and wagged her tail. When he finally got up to get back, she followed him all the way home... And that was how the year everyone loves to hate was a pretty good one for both Rahul and Rosy.

ANTHE.

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Rakesh was different. He looked 16, though he was 21. Wide eyed, eager, sincere to a fault. He would magically get to the gate before you could honk, he'd never miss a courier, the water tank never got empty on his watch, the cars he washed sparkled. +

Before Rakesh, we had a run of disastrous men. He was like Kapil Dev walking in at 17 for 5. In a couple of days, we knew we had a keeper. Like those animated drops of lubricant in Castrol ads, Rakesh was everywhere at the same time, keeping our Society humming efficiently. +

Residents competed with each other to offer him a snack, a cup of tea, a t shirt from a sales conference, an old mobile phone. They all made small talk with him. Like writers on a talent show production, they discovered his back story. Jaunpur. Sick father. 2 sisters. Cows. +

He worked days in our society. And nights at another. He had no home in Mumbai. Yet he showed no signs of fatigue. Even Mrs.Menon had no complaint. That's saying something. Her last complaint was, '..the watchman makes loud noises brushing his teeth... unacceptable..' +
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We are a people with pliable moral and ethical standards. Chalta hai, jugaad, we are like this only, kindly adjust, tedhi ungli, patli gully are cute verbal disguises for dishonesty. Taking liberties with the letter of the law has alway been okay. +

To us the law is not a diktat. It's a challenge. Like escaping from a mystery room. We rewrite and re-interpret the laws for ourselves in a more amenable, comfortable, acceptable, practical, convenient, benevolent manner.
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And then we make abiding by this rewritten legal framework our way of life. In fact, we've made it a very cool thing as well. Giving and getting proxy at attendance, fudging a concession form, traveling by bus and claiming air fare, padding up travel expenses... +

... borrowing petrol and medical bills, copying in exams, getting rent bills from your own Dad, taking payment in a spouse's name, paying part in black, buying without a bill, using peons and office cars for personal work, bribing a traffic cop, ... +

... using the services of a tout at the RTO, greasing a TTE's palm, finding a railway contact to release EQ for non emergencies, buying booze and washing machines from the army canteen, getting fitness and sickness certificates without check ups... +
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Rana's mother insisted he call his father Pitaji. Not Papa, Baba, Babuji, and definitely not Daddy. 'But Ma,' he used to complain, 'this is the 21st century, not pracheen Bharat'. 'That's why I'm not asking you to call him Pitashri', she would retort. +

On the other hand, Sweety's mother, a very modern lady indeed, made sure she (Sweety) called her father Daddy. He didn't mind being called anything. Pop, Dad, Baba, Daddykins, Popsy.. as long as he got his quota of hugs and kisses from his darling daughter. +

Rana grew into a strapping young man. Earning raised (but respectful) eyebrows, when his friends heard him call his father Pitaji. But Pitaji deserved that honour. For he was an honourable man. +

He worked long night shifts at a distant factory 6 days of the week. At home, he was kind, loving, and indulgent during the few hours he was awake. His wife cherished his diligence, discipline, and devotion to her. She fed him well, and made sure he got his rest. +

Every morning at the factory, he'd hand over duty to Daddy, the Day Manager, and head home. Daddy worked all day till Pitaji returned to relieve him. On Wednesday, both of them took a much deserved break, when the factory had its weekly holiday. +
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My father likes to brag. Specially about his athletic abilities. Truth is, he does manage to catch the toast before it falls to the floor. At half his age, I can't do that. "Keeper's reflexes", he says. The rest of us exchange 'there he goes again' glances. Mom just smiles. +

We've heard his 'I could have played for India' story a few times. About how one dropped catch in a crucial match cost him his India berth. How he quit the game after that. And became an actuary. Instead of people studying his stats, he studied theirs. +

It's true that his keeper-reflexes have saved many a pickle jar, egg, and tea cup. He has thumbed his nose at gravity so often. we jokingly call him Rakesh Sharma. He'd have preferred Kiri or Rod or Alan. +

Here's his story. Years ago, his team was one wicket away from victory. The opponents two runs away. The pitch was crumbling. Dogra bowled a beaut. The ball pitched and reared up. It took the bat's shoulder and sailed towards him. That was the India cap flying into his hands. +

Tragically, along with the ball, a clod from the disintegrating pitch flew up too. Dad's eyes stayed on the clod. While the ball mockingly wafted by him. And rolled over the rope. It was a catch Kachra could have taken. +
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Bill Bernbach, the most quotable of all the advertising Gods, once said, "It's not a principle till it costs you money.' It is only as an entrepreneur (I wish there was a less ostentatious word for this), that I fully understood the genius of that simple sentence. +

Every now and again, you meet a moral dilemma. They are the most troubling kind. Unlike the 'sambar daalke ya alag?' variety of dilemma. I'm talking about business opportunities that come with the faint, or not so faint, whiff of blackness in the lentils. +

We live in a grayscale world. Viewed through multi-hued glasses. A world where doctored and engineered have unflattering meanings. Forget about squeaky clean, nobody even seems to be scratchy clean. Even hallowed seems like a typo for hollowed. +

Shouldn't we take briefs at face value? After all, we are communicators, not investigators. Shouldn't we take shelter behind caveat emptor? Pass on the legal responsibility to the client and the rest to the customer? +

We are sloganeers and image makers, aren't we? Paid for our cleverness. Not for our, what's that word, scruples? That word is always a bit elusive. +
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In his letters describing the India Mission, Carey has given us an insight into how the society functioned then, of how the minds of the people worked and what methods the missionaries used to approach and brainwash the common people.


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In fact, considering the venom with which he has spoken about Hinduism and it's practices, it's likely that he has exaggerated these incidents. But it cannot be denied that these incidents did happen even if they may not have been on scale at which Carey has described.

One of his journal entry mentions a debate which happened in a temple in front of around 200 people. Carey describes having debated with two learned men and goes on to say when both learned men failed to answer his questions, he went on to preach the gospel to the assembled crowd


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Muslim Invaders and their HOLY WAR against India including the various atrocities on Hindus by them

( A THREAD )

The first Muslim invasion of India was by the Arabs who were led by Mahommad Bin Qasim. It took place in 711 A. D. and resulted in the conquest of Sindh. This first Muslim invasion did not result in a permanent occupation of the country because the Caliphate of Baghdad, by (1)

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Soon after this withdrawal, there began a series of terrible invasions by Muhammad of Ghazni in 1001 AD Muhammad died in 1030 AD but within the short span of 30 years, he invaded India 17 times. He was followed by Mahommad Ghori who began his career as an invader in 1173. (3)

He was killed in 1206
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Thread.

Recently, Harsimrat Kaur @HarsimratBadal_ claimed in parliament that Guru Tegh Bahadur protected the religion of Hindus despite of being a Non-Hindu. And Hindus owe a huge favor to others.

In this thread, I will show that Guru Tegh Bahadur was every inch a Hindu!

Let us begin with some contemporary sources.

Guru Tegh Bahadur visited the holy Triveni at Prayaga in 1662 CE.

This visit is documented in contemporary Bhat Vahi records.

Unlike those unpublished "bhat vahis", this one was published by Sikh historian Madanjit Kaur (1978)


This Bhat Vahi was signed by Guru Tegh Bahadur.

The content of the letter is particularly striking.

Guru Tegh Bahadur calls himself a devotee of Naina Devi.

Note. A devotee of Naina Devi. He does not mention Akal Purakh or Waheguru.


In the record, Guru Tegh Bahadur identifies himself as Sodhi Khatri by Varna and Kaushish by gotra.

This is exactly how the followers of orthodox Hinduism identify themselves to this date!


Further, Guru Tegh Bahadur appoints a brahmin purohit named Bhoj Raj.

He orders Sodhis of his line and all his Sikh followers to obey the aforementioned Brahmin Purohit.

This practice of appointing purohits is just what is referred to by some people as "Brahmanical Hinduism"
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A lot has happened in the last week re: the IT Rules, 2021! It may feel chilling, but mass awareness is the first step. This is an official thread of our resources on the Rules. Send it to anyone who wants to learn about them. This thread will evolve with updates over time.
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On Feb 25, 2021 we published an analysis of the draft IT Rules, 2021. Alongside the analysis is a rundown of the contentious history of the Rules and the need for starting afresh on this vital conversation about platform accountability. Thread


On Feb 25, 2021, the IT Rules, 2021 came into force. On Feb 27, 2021, we shared with you our comprehensive deep-dive into the Rules - an overview of its contents, the “safeguards” it seeks to establish, and how they affect your fundamental rights.


We're also talking directly to young people and making sure that they are empowered with knowledge about their digital rights w.r.t. the IT Rules, 2021. Watch our video explaining the background of the Rules and the crux of the matter in 5

Currently, public analysis including our own provides a broad overview of concerns. Since new IT Rules are here to stay, we're also providing you with segmented explainers. Our simple video on how the new Rules will affect digital news
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THREAD - Who are Urban Naxals?

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@PMOIndia @HMOIndia @NIA


The questions asked in the RTI application were as follows:

- Who are Urban Naxals? Where are they active?
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In response to the RTI query the Left Wing Extremism Division in the home ministry said:

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👨‍💻 Last resume I sent to a startup one year ago, sharing with you to get ideas:

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"But I got no work experience..."

Make a open source lib, make a small side project for yourself, do freelance work, ask friends to work with them, no friends? Find friends on Github, and Twitter.

Bonus points:

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"I got no firends, no work"

One practical way is to reach out to conferences and offer to make their website for free. But make sure to do it good. You'll get:

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Men actually cum faster when having sex with someone they love

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Sweetie I wanna remind you that every Good sex😍 is based on mutual respect and love❤, so make sure that the guy you’re fucking is worthy of you.

. and never waste effort on a guy who isn't worth it. But as long as you’re convinced of the hero-status of this guy, your endeavours will never be wasted❤.

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Choosing the Right JavaScript Framework

Thanks for joining me @pluralsight to talk about javascript frameworks. We had 150+ awesome questions, so I'll try to answer the ones I couldn't get to online right here in a tweet stream

Watch the video -->
https://t.co/G7zeiKhXme


Q. Do arrow functions really make dealing with JavaScript's "this" keywords easier?

A. Yes! When using arrow functions, the scope of "this" is effectively passed in from the outer scope. See here in this REPL

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