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. +

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. +

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. +

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. +

A watchman in our society, on an average, lasts 3 months. Just when we get a hang of each other's eccentricities, he disappears. So you have to start all over with the new man. 'Don't ever ring my bell twice... I carry my bags myself, thank you... '. And so on. +

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..' +

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. +

Ever heard of Gollala Mamidada village in Andhra?
Affectionately called "Konaseema Ayodhya", this town has a famous Lord Rama temple. Set in the midst of lush greenery, the towering double Gopurams are a sight for the ages.

A thread.

The delta area of the Godavari river is called the Konaseema. This island is created as the Godavari splits into its distributaries the Vruddha Godavari, Vasishta Godavari, Gautami and Nilarevu, just below the city of Rajahmundry. Gollala Mamidada is located here

Located around 45 km from Rajamundry (and 20 kms from Kakinada), this little village is famous for the Sri Kodanda Rama Swami Temple. Kodandam is the bow of Lord Rama, and he is worshipped in AP/TG mostly as Kodanda Rama.

This isnt an ancient temple like the others around here, but relatively new.
The construction started in 1889 by two local brothers Dwarampudi Subbi Reddy and Rami Reddy donated land and built a small shrine to Lord Rama. A larger temple was constructed in 1939

The most stunning feature of this temple are the towering double Gopurams. Rising vertically to the heavens, they lord over the neighbouring hinterland, and are said to be visible for over ten kilometres.

Folks. Ever heard of a temple with a Shiva Lingam so tall that it is worshipped on two floors?
And a Shaktipeeth where the Goddess so furious that Adi Sankaracharya changed her pose to face away from devotees?

No? A thread on the Draksharamam Bhimeswara Manikyamba Temple

Draksharamam is a quaint little town located in the Godavari Delta, in the East Godavari district of Andhra. This otherwise sleepy little place hosts a temple with a history as old as our civilisation itself. Shiva worshipped as Bheemeswara and Parvati worshipped as Manikyamba.

Legend has it that the Daksha Yagnya took place here, where Sati immolated herself after being insulted by her father, and the rampage by Lord Virabhadra ensued on the orders of an enraged Shiva.
Thus the name for the town as Draksharamam.

Another version for the name is the numerous grape plantations which proliferated in the area during ancient times. So the word "Draksha" (Sanskrit and Telugu for grapes) was used to christen the town.

Draksharama is a part of the legendary Pancha Rama Kshetras. These are the five holy places where the Shiva Lingam worn by the demon Tarakasura was broken and installed in temples by Lord Karthikeya. Only after the ShivLing broke, could Karthikeya slay Tarakasura.

Today is the 110th Birthday Anniversary of Faiz Ahmad Faiz. His story is incredible.

Joined the Indian Army in 1942 (WW2).
Supported the Naval Mutiny.
Attended Gandhi’s funeral in Delhi.
Nominated for Nobel Prize in Literature.
Received the Lenin Peace Prize in 1962.

#Thread

Just like Bhagat Singh, Faiz was considered a Hero in Undivided British India. During WW2, Faiz served with a unit led by Akbar Khan, a left-wing officer and future Pakistan Army general.

Faiz rose to the rank of lieutenant-colonel.

There was a mass recruitment of Indians especially socialist & communist activists into the British Indian Army and RIN (Navy) for war efforts against Nazi Germany after 1941.

However, once the war was over, the newly recruited men turned against the British, 1946 Naval Mutiny.

His poem Subh-e Azaadi (The Dawn of Freedom, August 1947) records his disappointment with the partition of the Indian subcontinent.

Faiz was imprisoned for more than 4 years after partition in a fake case popularly called "Pindi Conspiracy Case".

Communist party of Pak was banned soon after that Rawalpindi Conspiracy case.

He was held in solitary confinement in Sahiwal and Hyderabad (Sindh) jail and was even deprived of writing material. Faiz was again imprisoned in 1958 (Ayyub Khan’s martial law).

Thread on Evolution of Sino-India Border

I expect followers not to tag official govt handles and create unnecessary hype.

This thread includes generic information of the border post 1987 as the longitude-latitude wise information is only available with Army and not in public domain. Post 1987 information is taken from satellite imageries, generic archive records available in public domain.

The modern nation states are based on shared idea of their definition, some might be synthetic but they all are based on a common definition. Territorially, China considers itself as a nation state having same borders as that of Qing Dynasty

while India considers itself as a civilizational state between Himalyas and Indian Ocean whose boundary is based on long customs and latest treaties inherited by Dogras,Hill states,Sikkim,Bhutan Kingdom and British India on one side and the Tibetian Empire.

which was nominally independent under Qing and the Qing had authorized them to have treaties which they refused by 1920s.
Lets first go back to 2 main great Chinese extents-
Ming Dynasty with independent Tibet 1368-1644