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. +

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. +

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. +

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. +

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..' +

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. +

I am a student of DHSK college, Dibrugarh. I belong to 1 st Sem , History Department. And my generic subject is Political Science. Our history professor Mr Abhijit Baruah on our first day said
1) You Hindus don't have any history
2) If you want to study real history contd...

then study Islamic& European history.
3) He is a hardcore communist ( urban naxal I must say )

4) He says you hindu people don't have any history coz you people were busy writing about your imaginary Gods.

5 ) He says us to read history books of Romilla Thapar ( hindu hater)

He is brainwashing students since 80s. Another professor Mr Biraj Dutta says "we need revolution. Ami Delhi r sorkar uforai pelabo lgibo " Another Comrade professor Mr Sun Gogoi of Pol Sc. Dept says Urban Naxal is a derogatory term used by fascist Hindutva goons to defame (3)

Students of JNU and overall all the student community. He says Lala Lajpat Rai & all the nationalist politicians of that time were casteist including former President of India Mr Rajendra Prasad.

Now the historic DHSK college & all the college's of Assam may doing this from (4)

a long time. Now what should I do ? Should I stand against them. Should I oppose them ? My inner Hindu does not allow me to tolerate anymore.
Should I complain ? But to whom ? Anyone can be an Urban Naxal . Whom to believe? Should I think about my career & keep quite (5)

"Narendra Modi declared as the most popular world leader" (a short thread). Recently, an image started doing rounds where Modi was pronounced as the most popular world leader. Let me tell you how it happened. (1/n)

This is the image that is being used by most of the BJP followers to beat their chest. But something very interesting caught my eye when I tried to go into the details of how of it. (2/n)

The survey was done by a US based company called Morning Consult who boasts of their political intelligence and analysis.

So Morning Consult says it has millions of users to interview and a revolutionary system to analyse the data. It tells us that any survey this company does should be taken as the Gospel.

Now remember the world population as of Jun 13, 2020 was 7.5 Billion. Remember it because we will need this info later.

101 years ago today, Islam reemerged in modern America with the arrival in Philadelphia of a sage and scholar named Mufti Muhammad Sadiq.

Follow along as we recount his story alongside a brief history of Muslims in the United States. (1/16)
#100YearMovement

The presence of Islam in America dates back to the 13 colonies, when West Africans were enslaved and brought to the new world against their will. Many were Muslim and continued to practice their faith even as it was impossible for them to live freely. (2/16)
#BlackHistoryMonth

But by the end of the 19th century, Islam as a religion in the U.S. started to wane. The descendants of Muslim slaves had little connection to their forefathers, though some had inherited relics such as prayer mats and copies of the Holy Quran. (3/16)

Around the same time Islam was fading in America, a new spiritual movement was awakening halfway across the world.

It was known as the Ahmadiyya Muslim Community, founded in 1889 by Hazrat Mirza Ghulam Ahmad of Qadian, India. (4/16)
#PromisedMessiah

Ahmad claimed to be the awaited latter day reformer and Messiah for all religions, who came to revive the true and essential teachings taught by the Holy Prophet of Islam. His movement began as a small group in an Indian village and has grown to millions worldwide today. (5/16)

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.