We tend to live in our world - our family, our friends, our jobs, our scooter, perhaps our little vacation.
Out there is another world that we didn't know until their homes were lighted, and when night fell, they no longer conversed with darkness.
#ThereShouldBeNoGoingBack
Out there is another world that we didn't know until, in fact, they moved into a new home, their own little paradise, their palace.
It had a toilet too, yes, so that they did not have to go out on the pretext of collecting sticks to light their stoves.
#ThereShouldBeNoGoingBack
Out there is another world that we didn't know until they started having a bank account, started using words like ATM and BHIM and RuPay, started seeing money in their accounts which, as an ex-Prime Minister had once said, never reached them fully.
#ThereShouldBeNoGoingBack
Out there is another world that we didn't know until they started having an assured income, even insurance for their crop loss.
Possibly, the world was unknown as it was busy queueing up to procure urea, or, pondering over the waiver that never came.
#ThereShouldBeNoGoingBack
Out there is another world that we didn't know except a vague "North East", until it became connected through road and rail for the first time as if it were some fantasy land separated by tyranny of distance, inhabited by people with strange costumes.
#ThereShouldBeNoGoingBack
Out there is another world that we didn't know until it came out like termites in a fire and started vomiting its red hatred on the streets, on the screens, sitting down, standing up.
A world with a perverted lust to break the nation apart.
#ThereShouldBeNoGoingBack
Out there is another world that we didn't know until they could afford treatment for debilitating diseases, almost as a miracle, until their chronic pains suddenly disappeared, until the tears in their eyes spoke a different, happier story.
#ThereShouldBeNoGoingBack
Out there is another world that we didn't know until they could get a small loan and start a small business.
A small tea shop, perhaps, or one for fruits and vegetables. How about a chic coffee place? Didn't you always wanted to be a barista?
#ThereShouldBeNoGoingBack
Out there is another world that we did not know until the dust was cleared and the muck was removed.
The water sparkles like diamonds in the clean river, the boats pass through with their trade, even the dolphins, we hear, now jump with delight.
#ThereShouldBeNoGoingBack
Out there is another world that we did not know until it emerged from surgical strikes and air strikes, a world in which we asserted unambiguously that rules of engagement will be changed, and we decide when, where, and how.
#ThereShouldBeNoGoingBack
Out there is another world that we did not know until it emerged from the pride in our own history, our own traditions, our own civilization. A world in which Premiers visited mandirs and performed ārtis.
Who knew a Daughter of Ayodhya lived in Korea?
#ThereShouldBeNoGoingBack
@Sri_Anand7 I don't use*
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White Beard and Black Beard were seated in large, plush chairs in a dimly lit hall, their faces plastered with a smile as fake as a bride's when greeted by relatives from the other side, their eyes vacant and tired like a reserved passenger's whose seat is taken over by others.
"We have got sondesh for you both," said someone whose name they had forgotten.
White Beard waited for a message, and instead, all he got was a box of just desserts.
"Why is it so red?" asked Black Beard after opening it.
There was only a strained silence from the other side.
Black Beard ignored him anyway. "What have you got?" he asked someone who he had never met.
White Beard, fearing a sondesh repeat, turned his face to ignore the broken windows.
"Chak-hao kheer."
Black Beard opened it and said, "I thought it was made with black rice, not red."
"Just remove your Choos, Eeny," urged Moh, who had invited them.
"Where the hell are we?" yelled Eeny, sitting on a bench and looking around at the trees, the lushness of which was lost on her.
The trio, which had reduced from a quartet ever since Mynie had gone missing after she had married Parvez who called himself Paresh, was seated in what looked like an āṣhram canteen.
"We're in a good place," teased Moh. "Remove them."
"Those are not Choos," said Eeny. "Gucci."
Moh again urged both of them to remove their shoes. After they reluctantly did that, Moh took out a saffron pouch.
I don't understand the fetish for restaurants to play background music all the time. A quiet dinner is almost impossible anywhere. Mostly, it is some soft instrumental played so loudly that you feel like gulping down the hot soup would actually be a relief.
Yesterday, I was in an Italian restaurant. The background music was RD Burman. I told the staff to reduce the volume as I couldn't hear the conversation of my neighbour who was negotiating a December deal. "It's already low, Sir," he said. "Try our new garlic bread with paneer."
Imagine listening to "bīti nā bitāī rainā" in an Italian restaurant where you order any of the overpriced and overrated dishes.
"Yes, one salty and cheesy spaghetti aglio olio with one instrumental of Rafi and a soft remix of Kishore on the sides."