#Coffee Board of India
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Popular lore maintains that a Sufi mystic from Karnataka, Baba Budan, brought back raw coffee seeds from Arabia when he travelled to, to perform the Haj in the 16th century. This was a dangerous thing to do then since the Arabs had strictly forbidden the export of coffee seeds. But Baba Budan’s flowing robes allowed him to secret away the seeds in a hidden compartment when he set sail to India from the port of Al Mokka (hence, mocha) in modern-day Yemen. Back home, he began growing the crop. Qahwakhanas (coffee houses) were soon established, and many upper-class Indians took to the drink. In fact, across the Islamic empires of the world at that time, coffee was the beverage of popular choice. The decline of Mughal rule and the advent of the British dimmed the popularity of coffee for some time, but it made a comeback in the 19th century when the British began cultivating it in South India for export and for local consumption. By the early 20th century, all sorts of people had begun drinking coffee. In Tamil Nadu, which today is known to be very partial to its coffee (‘degree kaapi’ in the local parlance), the beverage soon replaced kanji (rice gruel) as the early morning drink. The growing popularity of coffee led to the establishment of the first India Coffee House under the auspices of the Coffee Cess Committee (a government body) in September 1936 in Churchgate, Bombay. Over the next few years, more such coffee houses were opened in different parts of the country. Though they were initially popular, by the mid-'50s, they were in trouble. The Coffee Board of India (the new avatar of the Cess Committee which had been established in 1942) then began to contemplate shutting them down.
Karthik Venkatesh, ‘A short history of the India Coffee House: Conversation, revolutionary politics and a different way to do business’, Firstpost
#Firstpost#Karthik Venkatesh#Baba Budan#Al Mokka#Qahwakhanas#Yemen#India#coffee#Mughal rule#British Raj#South India#Tamil Nadu#India Coffee House#Coffee Cess Committee#Bombay#Coffee Board of India
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BTS Wedding Series: Food/Cake Tasting
SEOKJIN
If there was one thing Seokjin was adamant about in the whole wedding planning, it was the food. He had cooked for the boys for the past 10+ years, he had been on enough variety shows with food, he did enough of his own mukbang videos to affirmatively say that he was a foodie. And when it came to the cake, the two of you had worked out a design and the flavours you wanted.
However, the whole food situation was firmly in his hands.
There had been emails back and forth to the hotel on Jeju island with menus, a private phone call with the chef and a presentation by Zoom by said chef over the various Korean meals that the kitchen could provide.
“Would it be possible to have a variation? Such as buffet stations and grazing tables laid out for everyone to pick from, to include different cultures but to include Korea as the main food as well,” Seokjin asked after going through your pinterest board where you had kept some of your ideas.
The chef in question glanced up, surprised as he was used to dealing with couples who went strictly with traditional Korean wedding food and never varied outside of that. His team were muttering in the background and there was various clicking, as they went through their own Google images to figure out what Seokjin was asking of him.
“We’re looking at a varied buffet rather than your strict sit down meal. I love American and Indian dishes, Seokjin loves Korean food and burgers. My parents prefer sushi yet they love Thai food. We have such a variation coming that we want to cover all aspects,” you summarised. And then the chef got it.
“Ah, I see! Right okay, so let’s do foods from around the world then. We'll have different food stations like you say - Japan, Korea, America, Italy, Thailand, India, Spain, etc. And then have a grazing table for fruits, bread, your desserts and then of course your wedding cake,” the chef said as he drew a plan on the board behind him. If he hadn’t been a cook in this life, you would have assumed he was an artist in another.
“The cake we’re going to sort when we’re next on Jeju but for desserts, could we look at brownies, cookies, blondies, cupcakes, etc. We’re well aware of people’s different choices,” Seokjin added as he wrote down his own list of his own requests.
“Mr. Kim, this is going to cost quite a bit. I know you’re an idol but this is going to cost.”
Seokjin gave a wave of his hand in an almost imperial way, causing you to hide a smile behind your hand. Another thing you had to give over to him was the budget.
“Don’t worry about that - when it comes to my food, I’m ready to spend the money. Do you know BTS?”
Of course the chef did as did the whole team by the way they were nodding.
“Then you know I’m a foodie and I love my food. And this one here loves her desserts so it’s a compromise and I won’t compromise on food,” Seokjin added by pinching your side, wincing at the slap on the arm in return.
“As long as you're sure. Let us arrange a date for you two to come and try some samples, then you can make a weekend out of it,” the chef suggested.
“A weekend trying food? Yes please!”
YOONGI
There was one thing you had promised Yoongi when it came to the wedding.
Tangerines.
He didn’t know how you were going to do it but he wanted tangerines because that’s what he loved and wanted. He had already picked out a four course meal for the wedding, fully Korean, with lamb skewers thrown in because he saw them on the menu and wanted them. The cake, however, was your deal. He just wanted tangerines.
So while you were looking for inspiration on wedding cakes during the early stages, you saw plenty of tiered wedding cakes with orange slices on the sides, painted oranges on the fondant, half naked cakes with fresh fruit all around. It was all locked away for your meeting with the lady who was going to do your wedding cake for you, something you dragged Yoongi along because coffee and cake went well together.
“So, what are you two looking for?” she asked, opening up her ipad to get started on the design.
“We’re both kind of plain people. The wedding decor is going to be simple with glass and flowers and candles. White roses, white peonies with plenty of greenery. Our invitations had a hint of blue on them. But Yoongi loves tangerines so I want to do tangerine name cards and if we could have tangerines on the cake as well, or in the flavour, then that would be perfect,” you explained.
Yoongi perked up at the mention of his favourite fruit. He didn’t know about the name card suggestion as he had briefly glanced at your ideas and the idea that you wanted to incorporate something he loved, made him realise that every single decision had him in mind.
“Wait till you see the favours I’ve ordered,” you muttered as you patted his leg, grinning slightly.
“Is that why I’ve been locked out of the spare room?” he muttered back, one eye on the lady designing the cake and one eye on you.
“Of course. It’s hell in there right now.”
“So,” the lady interrupted unapologetically to show you her design. “I’m thinking vanilla buttercream because that works well, then we can add fresh tangerines or kumquats which are slightly smaller or I can make the tangerines and flavour them. For the cake layers, since you like simple, depending on the tiers and how many you need, we could go with vanilla cake with lemon to bring in the citrus, then another tier of vanilla with pink champagne and another vanilla with maybe chocolate.”
“These sound all amazing. Are we able to have any tasters?”
“I’ll be back in just a moment,” the lady said as she laid her ipad on the table with the design still in place.
“How many tiers do we need?” Yoongi asked, seeing the design was for three tiers.
“Well, we’re looking at 250 for the reception and the Korean ceremony,” you said once you brought up your guest list file on the phone.
Yoongi sighed. As much as he hated being put on display like that, he knew it was to keep both sets of parents happy and to have everyone who meant the world there as well. At least the legal ceremony a few days before was just yourselves, the boys, your parents and no one else.
“How many tiers can we do for 250 people?” Yoongi then asked the lady who came out with two trays of vanilla cake with different variations of filling.
“You’ll be looking at 6 tiers then.”
Yoongi sighed again but happily picked up the fork he was given as well as a tray of cake. “Well, we best get tasting then.”
In the end, you picked vanilla with lemon, red velvet with cream cheese, vanilla with pink champagne and then a cookies and cream tier because at this point, why the hell not.
HOSEOK
The hotel itself had many restaurants to choose from and when it came to the wedding, especially with the amount of guests who were coming and how much you were setting aside just for the food, the hotel had sent you all the menus available.
You wanted Korean but mixed with a bit of international food as well as the wine and other alcohol to compliment it. Everything had to be big and bright like your wedding theme and to match your cake as well which had been designed to be dripped in bright rainbow colours with gold lustre and fresh bright flowers.
“So Festa is our contemporary European dining, the Granum is all day dining and is international and the Club Member’s Restaurant is Korean so you’ve got a good mix here,” the wedding organiser said as she showed you to the private dining area where you were going to have your wedding tasting from the samples you had picked from the menus provided.
For starters, you had picked smoked salmon with caesar salad, kimchi soup with bean sprouts and shrimp croquette and dill cream.
Scoffing all that with your wine and grinning as Hobi made notes, you then went onto your main dishes. These had been Hobi’s picks and you could tell when the dishes had arrived, large servings of meat. Prime steak was one dish, grilled lobster was another and then lamb rack with vegetables.
If that wasn’t enough, a small pizza and bolognese pasta also arrived.
“What?” Hobi asked around a slice of pizza.
“You think we’re feeding the country?” you asked, cutting into the prime steak that was cooked perfectly.
“I had to stop myself at the sides because there were too many,” Hobi admitted as he stole the piece of steak you had cut up.
“Of course,” you muttered as you stole the rest of his pizza.
Dessert had been a combined effort as your wedding cake was only two tiers and would feed just under 200 people. Blueberry cheesecake, chocolate tart with vanilla ice cream and then orange pound cake with ice cream. And not only that, the tables would get a platter of seasonal fruit.
“This is going to be hard,” you pouted as you spooned up some of the chocolate tart. “We might have to come back and try them again.”
Hobi chuckled as he bypassed the chocolate tart and went for the cheesecake. “I completely agree. Let’s bring Seokjin and Taehyung with us next time. They're the fussiest.”
NAMJOON
Picking the food had been an easy thing for the two of you as you both didn’t like fish and had settled on going Korean with a little mix of international foods for the guests who you just had to invite. Luckily enough, the maximum numbers for your outdoor wedding were 150 and you had managed to drop that to 130 for all your friends and family then the famous people who Namjoon knew he had to invite.
It was a bit odd addressing the invitations to such famous people and it was even more odd when they actually accepted. With the food organised with the hotel, it was time to turn to the cake.
You two had spent the better part of a day looking up wedding cakes with your appointment with the cake maker fast approaching and settled on a design you both liked - handpainted flowers alongside the tiers of the cake, all with meaning and thoughts behind them. Specifically picked for the two of you to incorporate your wedding flowers, birth flowers, etc.
Namjoon happily tucked into the slice of cake the lady handed over, white chocolate passionfruit while she handed you coffee and walnuts. If there was something you both were adamant on, it was the cake flavours would be unique.
You needed a four tier cake and while she designed the flowers on her ipad, you two tucked into the next set of flavours.
“I want to take that cake home,” Namjoon pointed towards the plate that was now empty of his passionfruit slice.
“I’m loving this raspberry and white chocolate,” you added as you cut a bit off with your fork and handed it over to your future groom.
“This is going to be so hard,” he muttered around the mouthful of cake and turned the plate that held his lemon slice. “But I think I’ve made my choices.”
“Oh? Already?” you asked, licking off some of the raspberry buttercream.
“I want that passionfruit, as well as your raspberry one and I think we just need plain vanilla for the boring people. And I think we need a chocolate layer, maybe with caramel and I want a lemon layer as well,” Namjoon picked off, still happily munching on the lemon cake.
You thought for a moment, thinking of all the people who were coming and if any of them were allergic to anything in those flavours and nothing was springing out at you. And when the lady showed you the design of greenery, daisies, white roses, peonies and little forget me nots - everything just fell into place.
“All those flavours and that cake design please.”
JIMIN
You didn’t know where the number of guests had come from but you somehow reached the 150 mark which was just a little squeeze for your venue but they had managed to confirm those numbers for the ceremony then the reception afterwards. You had picked and confirmed a cake well beforehand, settling on a five tier white cake but with fresh ivory and light pink flowers cascading around the cake itself. With flavours of vanilla, strawberry, lemon and raspberry, it had been sorted before you had even figured out your actual food menu.
Jimin was firm when you two had spoken to your wedding organiser that he wanted a taste of Busan in his menus with Busan eomuk (fish cakes) and Milmyeon so he had something of home in the menu which was completely western. Of course, the hotel were happy to agree so they organised a menu specifically for your food tasting.
First, it was the appetiser course of two options. The famous Busan fishcakes with a side of salad and some other bits and then shredded hoisin duck tortilla stack with cucumber and spring onion.
“How is that western?” Jimin muttered to you but happily tucked into the food either way.
For the main course, there was the option of Milmyeon, roasted sirloin with green beans, mushrooms, sauce and optional potatoes or fries. As well as a chicken option or sea bass option as well.
“This is hard,” you moaned as you cut into the steak and almost cried at how perfectly cooked it was.
“It’s even harder when they give you these options,” Jimin laughed as he pointed in the direction of the chicken and sea bass that was waiting to be tested.
“I shouldn’t have had breakfast,” you realised when you cut into the chicken and happily popped it into your mouth.
And then for dessert, realising your cake probably wouldn’t cover 150 people, settled on two types of dessert: a cheesecake and desserts in miniature so people got three little ones to enjoy.
“Shall we have it all?” Jimin questioned, spooning some of the cheesecake and feeding it to you. He then dug into the crumble which he hadn’t heard of before.
“We’ve got plenty of people who are going to have different options,” you shrugged but were happy to go for all the choices suggested.
“Okay, let’s do it,” he made a note on the little bit of paper the waiters had given him to confirm his choices.
TAEHYUNG
Though you had realised planning a wedding in another country was going to be hard, you didn’t realise how hard it was actually going to be. The venue dressing, provided by the hotel, was in Los Angeles as well as the cake lady, the photographer and everything else. You had a makeup team flying out with you and another photographer as well as a videographer, provided by HYBE, would be making the journey with you.
Beverly Hills had been booked up the moment your invitations had gone out and surrounding hotels as well in what had been termed ‘the wedding of the century’ by the rest of BTS. Celebrities, fashion designers, music producers and god knows who else were making the trip to be there for Taehyung’s wedding.
It was becoming a bit of a circus but he was so excited and devoted to the whole thing, that in the end it didn’t matter who was coming. You just wanted to marry the man.
And at least your air travel miles were accumulating quickly with the amount of times you had to fly out to Los Angeles. This time it was to meet the cake lady as well as have your menu tasting - something you were eagerly awaiting as you had to mix it with Korean as well as western food.
Of course, having a cake for 800 people was near impossible and it had been decided early on it would be limited to three real tiers, with the other three to be fake. No one would care anyway, especially with the amount of money you were putting into the food alone. And the wedding cake design had been simple yet extravagant - white fondant with vines of leaves and small flowers indented on each layer, with gold ribbon at the bottom of each tier and then red roses sandwiched in between each tier.
They were given a menu exclusively designed by Wolfgang Puck, one of the most famous chefs out there, and a glass of champagne each. ��We wouldn’t have gotten this in Korea,” Taehyung had muttered to you when you reached the VIP section of the restaurant.
“They saw the cheque book,” you muttered back with a laugh.
First was a king crab cocktail and a lamb rack with salad for entrees and then for the main course, you were given a large serving of bibimbap and Korean BBQ beef and a large serving of steak and Japanese kanpachi sashimi.
“Definitely saw the cheque book,” you said around a mouthful of food and realised the two of you hadn’t spoken in the hour you had arrived at your table and served your food.
“Well, it is delicious,” Taehyung said as he held up some of the sashimi and all but shoved it in his mouth.
When you thought you were done, they came out with the dessert menu as well as wine menu.
“I’m going to die,” you fake cried as you looked at the menu. “Oooh, they’ve got cheese platters. Should we have one for each table?”
Taehyung looked up from his wine menu and arched an eyebrow, “Now who's spending the money?”
“We’ve got a lot of celebrities to impress. So is that a yes?”
JUNGKOOK
With Jungkook being Jungkook, he already had a cake designed the moment you had talked about it. He had spent an agonising night on his ipad, drawing and redrawing, looking up inspiration and even turning to ARMY’s pictures to see if they had any inspiration to fulfil their fantasies.
With nothing truly popping up, Jungkook had to simply turn to his imagination and wonder if it would work. And with the colour scheme you two had come up with, it was a little hard.
“So, this is the design I’ve been working on,” Jungkook said to the cake designer who you had set up an appointment with over a week ago.
The cake designer took the offered ipad and used his fingers to zoom in on the design, then back out. “It shouldn’t be a problem and it’s quite unique, it’s not something I’ve seen before. Let me draw my version with some ideas of cake layers and see what you two think.”
You eyed Jungkook suspiciously and wondered what he had cooked up.
“It represents all of us,” Jungkook explained as he patted your knee, taking the ipad back and shoving it into his ever present black backpack.
With you travelling all the way to Busan to have this meeting as well as to sort out your food at the hotel, you hoped to have everything boxed up and done so you were putting a bit of faith in Jungkook and his cake.
“So, I think for the bottom layer, we should do some kind of chocolate,” the cake designer explained as he turned his own ipad around to show the two of you. He had replicated what Jungkook had drawn but into something easier for a cake.
The bottom layer had a marble effect with white base with a hint of black and purple in the marble effect. The second layer was pure purple with vanilla as its flavouring and then the top tier was pure white with strawberry champagne flavouring and white orchids dotted between the layers.
“You included ARMY,” you whisper as you take the offered ipad and look at the intricate details in the marble that look like they were done on purpose.
“Maybe it would be worth getting some kind of cake topper to represent that and you two,” the cake designer explained as he got up to get the suggested cake layers.
It didn’t take Jungkook long to get his phone out and start looking.
#bts wedding fic#bts wedding series#bts wedding au#bts wedding#bts scenarios#bts fanfiction#bts x reader#seokjin fanfic#yoongi fanfic#jhope fanfic#namjoon fanfic#jimin fanfic#taehyung fanart#jungkook fanfic
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ramblingsofthytruly~
exactly what the name suggests..
hi! my name is manishika sahoo, but i prefer to be called mithi.
i am a 15 year old living in bangalore, karnataka, india currently in my summer vacation(less than 2 weeks till classes start help!). i am going to start 11th grade in the end of may (i'm gonna study pcb+design) continuing in cbse board. new school (yikes!) and i'm probably gonna have like no close friends because of my social anxiety.. ah the woes of a shy introvert (not in a cute way)!!
i am an intj. a libra.
for my fellow marauders fans- i am a remus and lily kinnie. my fav characters are mary, lily and sirius (in that order).
for my fellow percy jackson fans- i am a hades kid who would join the hunters of artemis if i had the chance. currently reading trials of apollo but by 'percy jackson and the olympians' and 'heroes of olympus' my favorite characters are reyna(icon honestly), nico, piper(overhated queen), annabeth and hazel (in that order).
i was born in october 2008, in farmington hills, michigan, usa.
currently reading- jane eyre & the great gatsby
currently watching- reign, the penthouse & dickinson
i love literature, music & film (the holy trinity fr). i love reading, writing, dancing, singing, plants, art, maximalism, girls (what's not to love honestly), chocolate, paneer (my life fr), coffee, platonic love (underrated), pinterest (hands down best social media app), aesthetically pleasing college vlogs on youtube (very specific but they own my heart)
i want to be a successful writer, singer-songwriter, actress and youtuber in my future. my fall-back plan is to study psychology and enter academia.
i post a lot of varied content on this blog but most of the common themes include content related to feminism, being queer (i am a lesbian), writing & books, the marauders fandom, the percy jackson fandom, six of crows fandom, etc. i currently have two series of posts on here - 'extract(s) from my journal' and 'shitty poetry'. i try to be open with my thoughts here and want to create a safe space for all (unless you're a dramione/tomarry/drarry/bellamione/any other nonsensical ship/darkalina shipper or a terf or a homophobe or a transphobe or just a hateful person in general, then you're not welcome here).
my youtube channel: @heyy.im_mithi
my (other actual non-tumblr) blog: mithisramblings.blogspot.com (name: ramblings of thy truly)
my ao3 account (i plan to solely write sapphic marauders content because we are starved of it. might dabble in a bit of jily & tedromeda. recently started a marylily fic!): heyy_im_mithi
my pinterest (it's on private until i turn 16 unfortunately): @heyy.im_mithi
#life#writing#aesthetic#feminism#marauders#poetry#poem#blog#writers on tumblr#poets on tumblr#journalling#tumblr blog#percy jackson#pjo#percy jackon and the olympians#heroes of olympus#harry potter#anti drarry#anti dramione#anti tomarry#pinterest#mithi#youtube#youtuber#youtube channel#small youtuber#blogger#girl blogger#lgbtq#queen mary
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Corona Alone a Diary Revisited: An American’s Experience of the Covid Lockdown in Mumbai
Lockdown In Retrospect
Mediocre Graces: In any case, by the end of the Pandemic, I had somewhat been restored to good graces, not that I was ever greeted in Anand Nagar(8) at least with the Atithi Devo Bhava(11) spirit, I got on the good side of the local gang and befriended a Muslim woman who sells fish in a roadside stall, but it was too late, lonesomeness and faithlessness in humanity had grabbed a hold of me. Sadly, I am no longer able to speak to the fish merchant. She married, her husband is conservative and doesn’t allow her to speak to men.
On Lonesomeness: It’s worth noting that many endured the Corona epidemic in complete isolation. According to The Wall Street Journal, 35.7 million Americans, including myself, lived alone (Byron) around the time of writing the first journal entry. However, not just did I live alone, I was an expat, I lived alone in Mumbai, India. Regardless of the negative stigma that goes along with living alone, solitude never bothered me, in fact, ever since I was divorced, in 2012, I’ve preferred to be alone. Besides, I could always grab a cup of coffee and talk to strangers, I have the gift of gab when needed, but the double-whammy of isolation and becoming a pariah had pushed me to the brink of insanity. I’ve come to believe that those things that don’t kill us make us weaker and since the Covid outbreak I’ve become impatient, nervous and have lost faith in humanity, as I’ve already said.
Too Much Fluff: In all, the NPR article is woefully misguided and simply tried to make a buck off of Covid lockdowns, like so many other news outlets were doing at the time. A better story would’ve been on those who live alone before the Pandemic, whether for reason of mental health, a willful solitude or social ineptitude, that chronicled each persons’ descent into madness; I despise fluff journalism, maybe because it reminds me of the way that Bollywood paints India as an endless serene landscape of humorous follies in love that can easily be overcome when it’s something else all together, not easily, or that I would like to, put into words. This isn’t just fluff, there’s comedy for sure, there’s humor in all tragedy but there’s a reason for sharing the gritty details of lockdown in India, I feel it’s important to share these stories lest we live them again! In the past year, I’ve filled 6 volumes with recollections of lockdown, I hoped to get them published by a newspaper, that failed.
Diary Excerpts and Commentary
A Note to the Reader: The following excerpts are from the journal of an expat living in Mumbai (recorded between Feb 2019 and Feb 2021), during Covid lockdown(1). Dates have been replaced with titles because, unless indicated in commentary or prose, they’re irrelevant:
It Begins: There’s a few cases of Covid in China and other places but I’m not too worried, this will have as much effect on me as the 2003 SARS outbreak(6), there’ve been many such scares in my lifetime. Besides, I caught the virus from a wedding party in Sri Lanka, it was like the Flu, high fever, mild delirium and a little trouble breathing. Interesting thing about Sri Lanka, all of the land and wealth seems to be in the hands’ of the Nords, the locals have very little and the price of food is like that of America or Europe. Also, airport authorities took a child’s Queen Conch shell away right before boarding, she was clearly enamored by her seemingly magical wave machine. After they took it from her, she cried all the way back to Mumbai.
The Flasher: A few Covid cases have been confirmed and I’m beginning to feel like an unwelcome guest in a foreign land, an unusual notion in a land where the locals say “Atithi Devo Bhava(11).” Typically, Indians are hospitable, on my travels to the South they were, of course, taxi drivers tried to scam me there, but cabbies the world over are a special breed of scum, you should’ve seen the way they took me to the wringer in Hong Kong, hospitality is a source of national pride here. This afternoon, there was a knock on the door, it was my landlord. I found myself baffled by what he said. I opened the door and he began to speak, timidly and slowly in broken English: “there’s been a complaint,” he said. “What’s wrong?” “A man is walking around outside naked.” “Oh, I see. Thanks for informing me,” I said and shut the door, believing that he was telling me of a dangerous predator lurking among this slum’s numerous tightly knit alleys at night. Later, I came to find that the landlord was attempting to tell me that the neighbors had accused me of going on moonlit strolls in the buff, I was the predator. I was shocked and enraged when I found that I was, according to gossip, a flasher, but consoled myself by telling myself that none of this is the landlord’s fault, he just wants to prevent other tenants from rioting. People are scared and looking to point a finger at an invisible assailant. This will be forgotten quickly and my name restored, I guess it’s not contradictory to be both hospitable and two-faced. Why do I care about my reputation in a slum? I don’t want any trouble.
Last Days of Freedom: Worry has set in, even chain restaurants no longer accept cash, not from me at least, I tried to buy something to eat with good ol’ paper money at McDonald’s and they refused to serve me. Worse luck, as the Chinese say. I’m working on a project here and I’m paid in cash, so credit isn’t something I have access to. This doesn’t just affect me, a large portion of the population is paid, untaxed of course, in cash and most likely doesn’t have a bank account. Also, everywhere I go my temperature is taken.
Days of Optimism: Lockdown began, I went to get groceries for the 2 days that we are told we must shelter in place and plan to go to bed early. There was hoarding and ransacking of shelves at the local grocer, but I’m sure that it’s just hysteria and this whole thing will end soon. Another interesting thing happened at the store today, two women got in a fight over the last box of cookies, the first woman, a pudgy mother with a bad attitude towards everyone that I had had the bad luck of having a few encounters with before, used to admonish me saying “smoking is a bad addiction,” I wagged my finger and said “sugar is a bad addiction,” laughing my way out of the store. It was the first time I’ve laughed in days, I’ve been in a daze, everything is quickly changing and feels so dire. The fowl woman, she lost the battle and the box of cookies. A word about change, I’m often told that nothing changes in this little hamlet and I believe it. It’s hyperbole, things change here, but slowly, there’s digital gadgets for sale, but there are also oxcarts that sell food and other remnants of the past. It’s not that nothing changes, It’s that time seems to go by slower here, like the locals heartbeat at a slower pace. I always feel rushed but they take as much time as the seasons.
Two Days In: The two days passed, but lockdown continues, the food I bought didn’t last. Even worse, I wasn’t informed that lockdown part 2 had begun without the first installment ending, I slept through the grocery shopping time, 6AM. I snuck out for an evening walk despite lockdown, 2 interesting things happened on my covert walk, I saw many others outside as well, they all spoke of the cow that wandered into the open air temple that’s adjacent to my apartment complex, some are feeding here, even the Muslims, having taken up many of the folk traditions of the Hindus they live among, agree that a sickly heifer wandering into the temple is a good omen, the other interesting thing, The Green Eyed Lady (an Indian with green eyes) made me some Khichdi(24). There were also Chinese in Haiden, Beijing, a district home to many Russians, who have green eyes. Isn’t genetic splendid? In any case, the woman asked me if I had eaten, usually more of a salutation than invitation here, I said “no,” so she brought me a bite to eat. The food supposedly heals the sick.
Big Changes in a Little Town: Since implementation of the Janata(5) Curfew, many continue to sit along alleys in large groups or participate in sports, not wearing masks(4). Yet, as I walk enroute to purchase groceries, these intrepid individuals say “here comes Corona” and cover their faces with their dupatta(7) or a handkerchief. This change of attitude towards me is, although slight, I’ve always had my fans and detractors here, is palpable. Maybe it’s just my nerves. Before lockdown, I sometimes played Teen Patti(19) with neighbors at least, never understood the rules though. Anyway, the shelter-in-place decree will be lifted on Passover, this must be a good omen, not that I sincerely believe in such things, I think to myself and reiterate my resolution to weather the storm in Mumbai. One concern about the transmission of Covid, Indians don’t have a sense of proximity, they always crowd.
One Good Deed: The endless bad news has left me exhausted. A few thoughts before bed, having lived in other parts of Asia and meeting many people from Europe, India is like America in one way, heterogeneity. It’s a type of melting pot, not a melting pot of strangers from far off lands but a mixture of old kingdoms, who have their own languages and cultures, forced under one, possibly too small, umbrella. Adding it up, Indian society, due to its long history, caste system and numerous religions is exceedingly complex, for example Muslims created the first free public institutes of higher learning, yet in some regards they’re treated like would-be separatists (Khurshid). Thinking about the day’s event, I sit on the small broken cot that’s my bed, I have to get this fixed soon, it’s interesting, the cost of handwork is very cheap here, in the US, anything that artisan might do is expensive and it’s more cost effective just to throw the old away. I’m reminded of this Chinese woman I met in Beijing, she told me “I’m not Han(23).” “Interesting, which ethnic group do you belong to?” “I’m Miao.” “Is there anything unique about the Miao?” “We don’t eat dogs. All Chinese people are the same, we are one people, the only difference between Han and Miao is that we don’t eat dogs.” I was teaching adult English at the time for extra income. India is more like America than China or Europe, diversity is endless.
Anand Nagar Has a New Song: The decree wasn’t lifted. Another day, thousands more Covid cases and locals have begun to shout “go home Corona!” Despite the taunts, I’m staying where I am. I don’t have much of a choice, there aren’t any flights anyway, the airports, in a panic, have shut down, everything, with a mere 2 day warning, has come to a grinding halt. I guess this isn’t merely more sensational media. Besides, the situation is becoming bleaker in the US and airports are havens for communicable diseases, they pack people in, from all over the world, like sardines. Have you ever seen the projected distribution of an epidemic? It all starts with airports. Resolute that this virus will blow over, I buckle down for the Summer of Corona in India.
Foreigners Have it Too: Nothing good has come from lockdowns so far, it has fostered hysteria, mob mentality, greed and anti-foreigner sentiment. This “City of Dreams,” has become a nightmare! The nation has fallen into the clutches of fear of contracting the virus from a foreign national. Hysteria, I tell you! I only hope that this all ends soon. Despite an anti-foreigner hysteria, according to The World Health Organization there are a total of 1637 people infected by Covid-19, a mere 49 of which are aliens(3) (The WHO). Yet, the locals blame it all on Tablighi Jamaat(13)(BBC), why not? Trump is calling this outbreak “The China Virus.” The borders have closed, looks like I’m staying here for a while, I didn’t plan on leaving anyway. Besides, there’s talk of easing restrictions. Back to the human condition, I had always been considered an outsider here, I had always been greeted with mocking and mistrust, to some degree, but there were those who accepted me. The first day I arrived the children called me names and adults mimicked the way I speak with derisive tones and gestures, I guess imitation is the highest form of flattery? I despise epigrams, I really do.
Nostalgia for Slightly Better Days: Before lockdown, there was a woman with a fish tattoo on her arm who often invited me to play cards but I shied away from her after neighbors had told me that she “accuses people of rape to blackmail them for money.” I don’t usually listen to gossip but wanted to play it safe. Other than that, I was at least invited to weddings, funerals and dances during the Graba(22) celebration. Funny story, the first year I refused to dance, a man jokingly told me that if I dance with a girl I have to marry her. I didn’t actually believe him, I’m not that gullible, I’m just not fond of Indian music. Back to the present, it’s not the time for nostalgia, although I can’t think of a better pastime right now, maybe if foreigners in India practice social distancing, unlike the locals, they won’t catch the virus and the stigma will dissolve. The other night I went for a walk just to break the monotony of watching time go by and hoping the world would heal. This morning, I was again accused of perverse behaviors by my landlord. I wasn't walking the alleyways naked, but I am being watched. On the walk, locals barred the alley and told me “no foreigners allowed.” Yet, they daily gather to play Cricket while sentinels watch for cops so that they can quickly disperse.
There’ Gestapos In This Movie Too: I guess I should mention something good too. Lockdown has caused a sort of hush here and now daily I can hear the sound of an infant being bathed through the one tiny window my studio apartment has. Through the 4 foot square aperture I can hear the infant laughing as warm water rushes over it. I now hope that things will return to the way they were before, just subpar not “holy crap the world is on fire and we are all going to die!” A combination of police and concerned citizens, working with the police, now stand along the main road with bamboo canes in hand. They remind me of stories my grandfather told of the Gestapo. Both are poised for violence. The police, they resound the sentiment of the concerned citizens, ridicule the foreigner. Now, I usually get an escort, something that is only afforded to me, to stop “roaming” as I go to get essentials. There are now dots painted on the sidewalk, we are supposed to stand on them to ensure social distancing, the locals don’t obey this. If I do the same, I’m informed, thwack would go the cane. I’ve begun to see in black and white, not metaphorically but literally, I feel as though I’m watching a movie about a distant authoritarian time. The brutalist architecture(24) is reminiscent of Russia and North Korea, it doesn’t take much imagination for the arabesque attributes to obscure. I haven’t slept much.
Building a Wall: This hamlet is bluffed by a river by a river on one side with a small foot bridge for crossing into Neilam Nagar. The police have blockaded the entrance to the crossing and are building a wall to, I believe, keep the several hundred thousand impoverished residence of this hamlet trapped like mice on a sinking ship. I truly fear the wall, perhaps it’s because of my education, having been forced to read the line ‘Something there is that doesn’t love a wall(20),’ throughout school, it’s almost a national anthem. Walls and golf courses have always seemed as despicable things to me. Neither the rich nor the influential politicians are suffering the same as we are in the slums. They play golf in their gated communities…
The First Stone Tossed: As the situation in India worsens, so do the jeering. Now, a few individuals throw rocks at me, a tactic usually reserved for thwarting the region’s menacing wild dogs, as I venture into the ever more dangerous streets at the permitted time, 6AM, to get essentials, in an attempt to diffuse their frustrations over the region’s spreading epidemic. Yet, returning to the political quagmire that is America keeps me hopeful that sheltering in Mumbai will become easier. Rocks tossed or not, I’m staying in place. Oddly, despite not eating much, I’m gaining weight, it must be stress. Supplies have run thin, some are hoarding and there’s talk of a 2 week prohibition on supply trucks entering Anand Nagar.
Insomnia: Depression has set in and money has mostly ran out. Immediately before lockdown, I was given a promotion but as of yesterday, the company I worked for has permanently shut their doors. I’ve just now realized that I haven’t left my house, let alone gotten out of the broken cot for days. I look at the clock, it’s 5:50 AM, the allotted time for shopping. Getting groceries at dawn isn’t a matter of waking at dawn; I haven’t slept in days either, just sat on this cot watching time go by. Insomnia is starting to take a toll, I’m beginning to hallucinate, time has lost all meaning, at times days go by in minutes yet other times, minutes last for a small eternity. It has been days since I’ve had a face to face conversation with another human.
Home Invaders: Somewhat dazed, I sit on my bed contemplating the meaninglessness of time when there’s nothing to do. Jolted from my daydream-like state, there’s a pounding sound on the door. The sound is getting louder. I hear shouting. The words come into focus, “foreigner, we’re coming in! We’re breaking the door down,” says the unfamiliar voices. I spring to my feet and bolt the door. The pounding becomes more and more rapid and fear takes a hold of me. But then I hear a familiar voice, the voice of my neighbor, she shouts something in Marathi and the marauders leave. I fall into a sleep and don’t wake for 2 days. Food was cut off for 2 weeks, I had to get a bite to eat from the Hanuman Mandir(18). They handed out plates of rice and lentils.
Vigilantes: Days go by and panic worsens among residents of this Mumbai chawl(8). Due to rising fears, vigilantes begin to safeguard the streets from “roaming.” These sentinels attempt to impose restrictions of their own device on me: they inform me that I am not permitted to walk along certain roads because they are afraid that I carry the virus, this happened once before on a late night walk but now it’s the norm, although I’m merely in search of a store to buy necessities and wearing a mask. In the end, these vigilantes won’t cause a reduction in hanging out on the street, this I know, but a few of this slum’s inhabitants get to feel empowered because they are the new sheriff in town. I guess we all need a whipping-post and there’s good among the wicked, a local temple and a few individuals are handing out grains to the needy. We are all needy here. At this point, the lockdown has gone on for months.
The New sheriffs in Town: Currently, there’s two police along Mumbai’s backstreets, those who were given authority by the Mumbai Municipal Corporation (MNC) and vigilantes. Feeling harassed and completely rejected by society, loneliness takes hold of me, I begin to search for a way out of this “city of dreams,” maybe returning home while a buffoonish leader (Trump) who makes a mockery of the US isn’t so bad, I think to myself. All things considered, it’s nearly impossible to abide by laws set by both the government and a hysteric mob anyway.
No Payment Until April: At least I have a roof over my head, I think to myself, an article in Aljazeera, Foreign Tourists Face Hostility in India Amid Coronavirus Panic informs that an Israeli woman was evicted from her home in Goa due to locals fear of contracting COVID-19 and others were forced out of their hotel (Purohit), I can go a day without milk, but not without a bed, not to mention, the police had recently found tourists living in a cave because they are trapped in India and have ran out of money (NBC). I haven’t yet been evicted, but am also out of funds and live under constant threat of eviction. Rent payment is suspended until April (Delhi High Court). I lay on my broken cot, I will try to get it fixed on the black market, and continue to doom-scroll taking note of the day’s death tally and searching for any sign of things getting better. Passover has passed but Covid hasn’t.
Nobody Goes Home for That Price: I do some research and come to find that the US Department of State is offering “repatriation flights,” these flights carry a $2000 price tag (a promissory note for the aforementioned amount must be signed before boarding the plane) and a random port of arrival is where I’ll end up if I choose to return home through the ever so benevolent government, how can anyone pay this price during a Pandemic (this thing has been upgraded to a Pandemic, how lovely words are). Upon arriving at this port, the returning expat must find their way home through barricades and the threat of being infected by Corona (Genter). I harden my heart and again resolve to weather the storm in Mumbai. Besides, if the promissory note isn’t paid, I will be banned from international travel. I’m a Digital Nomad. I travel, work at an incredibly low rate and can only afford to survive in developing countries.
August’s Heat: The death toll jets upward and 75 degree angle, it’s updated daily. While bombarded with an endless stream of bad news, jeering has morphed into threats of violence, sleep is still a rare occurrence, heat rash has caused the parts of my body covered by clothing to become as freckled as Little Orphan Annie, I’m as poor to boot, my field of vision is filled sprawling geometric patterns and my temper is quick.
Worse Than the Daughters of Temperance: As the situation thickens, stores begin to deny me service. A shopkeeper refuses to sell me certain items that are in stock and we aren’t barred from sale, I have just been informed that liquor and tobacco have become contraband. The more than nagging need to satiate addictions during lockdown aside, this proprietor allows Indian nationals to purchase products, but denies me the same goods. He’d have me starve to death! I, like all outsiders, have become the face of a faceless virus that has ruined lives, in fact “Muslims were initially blamed for the spread of infection (Siddiqui),” a group that is no less a part of India than Sikhs(10), yet, like Jews anywhere in the world, are perpetual outsiders. All things considered, this is mass hysteria! Nobody I know has died from Covid yet. A sampling error? Perhaps. Nonetheless, I sit in my room without a breeze (I don’t have A/C) and ponder what society has come to, Freud’s mob mentality.
They’re Trying to Starve Me Out: That shopkeeper has changed his mind, I returned to him to buy groceries but he yelled “go away foreigner white face.” He then insisted that a clerk not give me an old box, although I was carrying a heavy load and had no tote. The hypocrisy of people here is an in the face classism, a rule for me and a rule for them. The Covid cases are increasing exponentially! So are my headaches. They’re not headaches as much as a feeling that every nerve ending in my body is being prodded with a needle and the inside of my brain shrinking. Now, I sit at home alone, the rats scurry across the floor, the heat comes in waves, time stands still and there’s nothing to laugh about, Covid cases are in the hundred thousands and the death toll is staggering as well.
Befriending the Gang: August’s heat, insomnia, constant dread and lack of nutrition are getting to me, I don’t know how much longer I can go on. Even local pharmacists have begun to convey a fear of me and insist that I have a cough when I go in to ask for something for heat rash. Unlike the grocers, the pharmacists sell me goods, but with great hesitation and suspicion in regards to my presence in this chawl. Finding tobacco is now the chief task of every day. It’s sold on the black market, along with chocolate, alcohol and meat, at exorbitant prices. So, like a heroin addict, I slink up to a back alley leant-to and buy a pack of smokes. It’s just like buying illicit drugs: there’s an obligatory period of making small-talk, ambiguity over whether or not the man actually has tobacco, razzing, phone calls and scurrying about to find it. In the end, I walk away with cigarettes at European prices and a dirty feeling.
Suicide Among Death: Lockdown continues and most in this chawl have lost morale. The neighbor sent her son over to tinker on my electric piano. She told me of what has been dubbed The Flower House Girl. A young woman hung herself from rafters due to endless confinement to her home and the bleak picture of tomorrow that the daily news paints. What a shame! I had wondered what the fire department was doing on the main street. They took her out of the third story window with the truck’s ladder.
Another Year Another Onion: Did I mention it’s a New Year? I didn’t even notice that the year had changed, the date passed unceremoniously and with festivities. Again, the police have rebuilt the wall that surrounds this chawl, tightening the perimeter, I’m not sure if it’s to keep Covid out or us in. In any case, food has scarcely made it through the makeshift wall and news is that food supplies will be cut off for 2 weeks, again. In any case, that which makes it in is mostly sequestered by the gangs, anyhow. It’s that I’ve got the most onions mentality(12). Despite rarely eating, I continue to gain weight. Speaking of onions, there are now over nine million confirmed Covid cases and farmers are protesting the price gouging of seeds, stating that “We are the ones who have provided food, milk, vegetables when the whole country was in lockdown, we were still toiling in the fields. It is the government” not gathering in New Delhi “that has put us at risk by introducing these laws during Covid (Hollingsworth et al).” My heart is with these brave men and women and if I had the strength I would be beside them. All things considered, despite the news and friends’ proclamations that a new year brings new hope, this may be an onion of a year too.
The Walls Close In: Yet again, the police have reduced the circumference of the wall. I feel claustrophobic or like I’m slowly, very slowly drowning. I go to bed, but sleep doesn’t come. I hear the rats fight over the last morsels of food in this chawl, when I wake, there’s inevitably a rodent corpse on the footpath in the ally that leads to my house. Food has been cut off for 2 weeks. I gave the last of my supplies to a family, in total it amounted to a pound of rice and a pound of lentils. Now, the cot is less of a fishing net with big holes and more of an empty frame. I lay on the floor instead, will I be able to get somebody to fix it, I don’t know. I have to get my family to send money first.
An Altercation: We are now allowed an evening walk, so I venture out to the usual chants, a ragtag team of would-be thugs follow me. A wave of exhaustion washes over me and my pace slows to a crawl in front of the BJP(14) Office. As I cross in front of the office, beneath the flag, a scrawny slum-bastard walk up and says “are you British?” “I’m American,” I reply. “I hear they call you Hari(15).” I can smell the alcohol on his breath as he speaks. “What of it?” “More like Harry Potter.” “I guess that’s funny,” I say and try to walk away, but he grabs me by the collar and takes a swing, he misses. I return the blow, my fist makes contact with his face. My heart is racing. I fear an all out retaliation when, like roaches from beneath rot-wood, members of the local gang emerge from the alleys and come to my aid. I had been buying tobacco from them, at highway robbery prices for weeks, and so it’s in their interest to act as my vigilante guardians, in some regards, the gangs are better than the police, or at least their corruption and self service is laid out on the table for all to see, where the cops are supposed to protect and serve, protecting and serving often isn’t the case here, it comes down to ethnic and caste schisms.
Two Deaths and a Ghost: It’s another day and the death toll has spiked again. Feeling that I escaped death and death being the only thing the news reports on I begin to wonder, had I been killed by a mob, would my death have been reported as a Covid death? Is the death toll real? There’s a little hospital in this chawl, it’s certainly not inundated with the dying and morticians don’t walk the streets singing “bring out your dead,” as they did during the Black Plague of 1665. In fact, of the 3 who purportedly died in Anand Nagar, one was an elderly with Emphysema, the other was a suicide and the last one, I saw him walking down the street the other day, risen from the grave as by some Covid era miracle. Truth be told, he had gone back to his family home and returned. Not an easy task, much like during the Holocaust, traveling papers are required to go anywhere, there’s not even any trains, minus a few for displaced workers. A combination of lack of food, a growing mistrust of the government’s intention with regards to lockdown and dire times brings these lyrics to mind: My wife fixed up a tater stew/ We poured the kids full of it/ Mighty thin stew, though/ You could read a magazine right through it.
Always have figured/ That if it’d been just a little bit thinner,
Some of these here politicians/ Coulda seen through it(21).
Are the politicians duped or am I? What about herd immunity? I feel like I’m living in the Dust Bowl, except there’s no storm of dust and the sky isn’t black. The enemy is invisible. Or, am I the enemy? So much for relativism.
Police and Indians: On another outing, again attempting to purchase essentials, those things that whether for sustenance or pleasure, an invisible hand has decided that I may indulge in, I find that even local authorities seem misinformed about the number of foreign nationals in India with Covid. Recently, police stopped me for questioning and informed me that “foreigners are the cause of Corona Virus.” After looking for a quarantine stamp on my hands several times and not finding one they insisted that I run back home and followed me on motorcycles. This was witnessed by several locals who cheered the police on. As the police resounded sentiments of this chawl’s inhabitants, it reinforced negative feelings. I didn’t eat that night. The days following the police harassment, locals continued jeering me by saying “the police will come and hit you,” while mimicking the thwack of a cane on their posterior. Not just are they misinformed, they’d like to see me hung.
Read the Sign: In case you feel incredulous in regards to my claims about placing a stamp on the hands of foreigners and the police’s blindingly Orwellian allegiance to the BJP, the party who blamed Covid on Muslims and foreigners, The National Library of Medicine has this to say about it: tourists who arrived in India from affected countries were put in quarantine for 14 days in their port of arrival, their “left hand was stamped with ink” to maintain the date and time of their home quarantine, “a move that could risk assault, due to stigma towards Covid suspects [foreigners].” Individuals violating the quarantine can be penalized via Indian penal code Section 188, 269 and 270 (Siddiqui). The police, like the locals, are looking for a whipping-post and have a draconian view about foreign nationals in India during this crisis, what a hoot it would be to cane them. Bollywood is no “City of Dreams,” in fact, misinformation abounds here, signs, obviously posted by Conservative and nationalistic Hindu Vegans, reads as so: ‘Ways to avoid Covid/ Don’t eat meat/ Don’t smoke/ Don’t talk to foreigners.’ I no longer see the good that I jotted down in an earlier journal entry. Also, tired of the word “misinformation,” not sure who gets to decide what’s misinformation, although I myself used it in this entry, just tired: days crawl by and the feeling of isolation causes a pressure on my cranium and a meaninglessness to all things.
Mending a Bed: Despite having become a pariah, I was able to get the cot fixed, for a small fee, a tailor was willing to come over, and work against the law, they despise me, but like money enough to look past it. The work doesn’t look great, it’s rigged. Most everything here is rigged. I’m never sure if this is the ingenuity of a race of impoverished people or the result of an attitude that declares good enough is good. In the end, most everything is a hodgepodge of corrugated steel, broken bits of wood and rope with exposed electrical wires that run through water and the elements in general. I’ve always said, if the manpower here became a collected force and decided to stop pollution, get the rivers clean, enforce something like an ADA, demand fair housing they would be an unstoppable force. Instead, they divide themselves along ethnic schisms.
A Pickpocket: Food has returned to the stores and shopkeepers are serving me, but I was pickpocketed at the register. I took my wallet out to pay, right before my eyes a man reached in my wallet and took a 500 out, it was the last of the money I had. I came home empty handed. For the first time since my divorce, I broke down and cried. Now I sit wiping my eyes. Is all hope for humanity lost? I cannot answer. Besides Covid, there’s so much political turmoil! It looks as though there won’t be a smooth transition of power this time.
What I’ve Learned From the Steppenwolf: I’m concerned for the nation’s migrant workers, other visiting foreign nationals and those who descend from Mizoram and Assam, these individuals may be more prone to the psychological effects of loneliness than myself. Culturally, Indian life centers around an extended family, whereas I’m more akin to Herman Hesse’s Steppenwolf. All in all, it’s tough to live overseas in the best case scenario and down-right depressing when you��ve become public enemy number one. But, as I said, I have a tough enough skin to survive this, but there are those who’ve been cannibalized by their own society. Anyway, lockdown should end in 3 weeks, the infection rate is on the decline. We are now aloud out in the evenings and I have taken to sitting with friends in front of the Rukhmini(16) Temple. It’s like the opening line of a joke, a Jew, a Muslim and a Hindu… Among us, there’s a Muslim, a Jew, a Christian and a Hindu priest. All in all, I need them not, but it’s nice to have some companionship, even if there’s little communication. I have returned to good graces.
Family Matters: Although I feel alone, I’m not jealous of India’s family structure. Locals often ask me about my family, casual things like “how is your mother?” “I don’t know. I don’t keep in touch with my family very much,” I respond. It’s a matter of privacy and staying out of gossip. Here, grown men never grow up, they are fed and coddled by their mothers. I had recently met a man who can’t cook for himself, nor wash his own clothes and still occasionally sleeps in bed with his mother. Speaking of men, spouse abuse, along with drinking, is on the rise. It’s not uncommon to see and hear it. Too often, after dark, I witness, when I sneak out for a walk to break the munatiny, men hitting women by the open air temple that my house is adjacent to. Speaking of temples, Hanukkah recently passed. I lit a makeshift menorah, but even that gave me little joy. As for now, the best thing is drinking chai by the little Rukmini temple.
Down With the Wall: The wall has come down! Lockdown isn’t over, but the wall has come down. Alas, air travel has returned, the government has announced “air bubbles” and I’m returning to America. After everything, I was never again treated as more than a second-class citizen in that chawl but it matters not, I’m leaving! In the end, the locals’ reaction to me and the psychological impact of the loneliness, their words and actions heave upon me, have caused deep scars. On a more disappointing note, all local newspapers have declined to publish my recollections of lockdown. An earnest question, were we fed false dichotomies, ones that stated wear a mask or everyone dies and get the vaccine or everyone dies, just for some political experiment or agenda? It’s just odd that after the farmers protested the Covid number began to decrease.
Integrity Intact
No Amnesty for the Wicked: One might say, you’ve survived the worst, why bring this up at all? Isn’t it time for amnesty? I feel the answers to this was best put into words in the video Pandemic Amnesty: Do you Forgive and Forget and so I will summarize what the author said, “there were things that happened that there needs to be a recognition of, and there needs to be a public apology. There needs to be a promise that this never happens again. There needs to be people who actually pay for their behavior, potentially criminal behavior. […] Until the people who did harm admit that they did harm this kind of thing will just keep repeating itself. […] Some people were victims, other people were perpetrators, and then there [were] also enablers (Wand).” For instance, The Deccan Herald reports that there have been “attacks on people from India’s northeastern region […], suspecting them of being carriers of the virus.” Assaulting your own people is like cannibalism, that’s all there is to it! As it was written in the newspaper, apart from being called “Corona” or “Chinki(9)” India’s [Asiatic] people were spat on and forcibly quarantined, despite showing no Covid symptoms, all because of their looks and an ignorant fear that anyone who looks different are the root cause of the Pandemic. Also, they were denied entry into their apartment complexes, evicted, merely threatened with eviction or forced out of restaurants to make others comfortable and none wanted to share transport with them (Karmakar). Of all things, it’s not time for amnesty.
Ignorance isn’t an Excuse: There needs to be punishment for these wicked deeds! There’ll be no retribution for foreigners who suffered in India, but locals, those from minority communities, who had just days before lockdown been upstanding citizens, deserve retribution and possibly reparations. There those who died from the virus and those who died at the selfishness and ignorance of mankind, for those who died by the hand of man have this to say: “To forget the dead would be akin to killing them a second time ( Elie Wiesel).” Ignorance, for good reason, has never been, nor shall it be an excuse for breaking laws and committing atrocities. The Atlantic is wrong in their assertion that we should just forgive and forget (Oster). Perhaps, in the name of healing, it’s time to forgive, but should never forget!
A Clear Conscience: During The Covid Outbreak, I may have lost my mind, found myself in complete isolation and on the brink of starvation at times, but at least I kept my dignity. I threw no stones and attempted to obey the laws, even those that actively brought hardship into my life. I defended myself when needed, I live by the adage “walk gently and carry a big stick.” As for the war of the ethnicities in India, I guess it’s none of my business, alone, I can’t defend the minorities. And in regards to retribution for the wicked, my hands are also tied. However, I won’t give amnesty, not in my heart. Forgetting and moving on, as Oster’s article suggests (Oster) is, to reiterate, akin to allowing the cycle to repeat again. In the end, my travels have provided me with armor to protect against cabin fever, I’ve endured hardships and loneliness in remote villages of Nepal and have been “the stranger” in the metropolitans of Hong Kong, Bangladesh… But there are those among the Indians whose identity and self-worth come from a tightly knit family and friend structure, many of which took their own lives due to isolation. Others starved to death because of lack of income and others died due to the rejection of medical services. Luckily, I was not immune to the effects of isolation, but well insulated from the threat of Corona by a chawl that exists off the radar and societies’ fear of foreigners, local inhabitants keep me at arm’s length and so, I didn’t catch the virus during lockdown.
Notes
1: The views herein are not the of WTDA but the author. At WTDA we publish a variety of news, depending on what we deem to be an interesting story at the moment.
2: At the time of writing, Covid hadn’t yet been declared a Pandemic.
3: Citation no longer available at The World Health Organization.
4: The author of this journal wants it to be known that they don’t, nor did they ever, believe that masks are/were an effective way of preventing Covid-19 but were forced to wear a face covering by Indian law. At the time, they obeyed the law.
5: Public.
6: Hyped media, having no real effect on the life of the author.
7: A long scarf worn by Indian women.
8: The Marathi word for neighbourhood which is colloquially used to denote a slum.
9: North Indian slang for India’s Asiatic population.
10: A religion that combines attributes of Islam and Hinduism and originated in India.
11: Guests are G-D.
12: In 2019, due to flooding, there was an onion shortage. An entrepreneur had been hoarding onions. At the time, not only did he declare that “onions are the new gold” he purportedly sold the onions for 3 times the market value. To the author, it serves as a symbol of the selfish psychological state that caused some of the worst aspects of Covid lockdown.
13: A 3 day Islamic spiritual event in India’s capital hosted by a 100 years Islamic Missionary Movement. Due to the cases reaching over 300 after the event, the meme was coined: China is the “producers” of the virus, and Muslims are the “distributors.”
14: A political party, of which Prime Minister Narendra Modi is the leader of. Every neighborhood has a BJP office.
15: A common male name in India and regional pronunciation of the Anglo name Harry.
16: The primary wife of the Hindu G-D Krishna.
17: The name of the slum in which the writer lived during lockdown.
18: A temple in the slum in which the foreigner lived during lockdown. The temple is dedicated to the monkey G-D, a deity who helped Rama in the Hindu epic, the Ramayana.
19: A poker-like card game in which the players make melds with three cards.
20: Mending Wall by Robert Frost.
21: Talkin’ Dust Bowl Blues by Woodie Guthrie.
22: A dance form native to the west Indian state of Gujarat, performed in October to honour the Hindu Goddess Durga. It is also celebrated in Maharashtra. People gather on the streets, dancing in pairs of men and women where they rhythmically click sticks together.
23: The largest ethnic group in mainland China, about 91% of the population.
24: A South Indian dish made of rice and lentils. It’s a comfort food that’s supposed to aid in healing.
25: Brutalist architecture emerged during the 1950s in the United Kingdom, among the reconstruction projects of the post-war era.These buildings characterised by minimalism and bare building materials. They are commonly seen today in old Soviet Union countries and Central Asia, reminding many of totalitarianism.
#lockdown#travelogue#Covid-19#memoir#India#autobiography#travel#online diary#memories of Covid#Pande#coronavirus#pandemic#mumbai#maharashtra#expatliving#overseas#police#mob mentality
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लखनऊ 20.05.2023 | हेल्प यू एजुकेशनल एंड चैरिटेबल ट्रस्ट के पूर्व संरक्षक पद्मभूषण स्वर्गीय गोपाल दास नीरज जी की स्मृति में, माननीय मुख्यमंत्री परम आदरणीय श्री योगी आदित्यनाथ जी द्वारा वर्ष 2018 में घोषित, “डॉ गोपाल दास नीरज की स्मृति सम्मान” से सम्मानित होने वाले 5 नवोदित कवि / रचनाकारो पर माननीय मुख्यमंत्री परम आदरणीय श्री योगी आदित्यनाथ जी जल्द निर्णय लेंगे |
मुख्य सचिव उत्तर प्रदेश की अध्यक्षता में चयन समिति की बैठक सम्पन्न हुई है, ध्यातव्य यह है कि पुरस्कार पर अन्तिम निर्णय माननीय मुख्यमंत्री जी द्वारा शीघ्र ही लिया जायेगा ।
हेल्प यू एजुकेशनल एंड चैरिटेबल ट्रस्ट के प्रबंध न्यासी श्री हर्ष वर्धन अग्रवाल ने माननीय मुख्यमंत्री परम आदरणीय श्री योगी आदित्यनाथ जी तथा मुख्य सचिव श्री दुर्गा शंकर मिश्रा जी का आभार व्यक्त किया है | “डॉ गोपाल दास नीरज की स्मृति सम्मान” से सम्मानित होने वाले 5 नवोदित कवि / रचनाकारो को अग्रिम बधाई |
#NarendraModi #PMOIndia
#YogiAdityanath #ChiefMinisterUP #ChiefMinisterOfficeUttarPradesh #ChiefMinisterYogiAdityanath
#durgashankermishra #ChiefSecretary #Chiefsecretaryuttarpradesh
#gopaldassneeraj
#HelpUTrust #HelpUEducationalandCharitableTrust
#KiranAgarwal #DrRupalAgarwal #harshvardhanagarwal
www.helputrust.org
Narendra Modi PMO India
MYogiAdityanath Chief Minister Office Uttar Pradesh
Chief Secretary Uttar Pradesh
Help U Educational & Charitable Trust Help U Educational and Charitable Trust Coffee Table Book "Geeton Ke Darvesh : Gopal Das Neeraj"
Kiran Agarwal Harsh Vardhan Agarwal Dr Rupal Agarwal Dr Rupal Agarwal Ex. Chairperson U P State Social Welfare Board
*Archive Photo Dated 20.08.2017
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International Tea Day
While everyone loves a cup of tea, many of the workers and producers of that tea face poor conditions and pay. Help raise awareness and keep tea fair.
The tea industry provides millions of people around the world with cups of tea in the morning. One of the biggest producers of tea, India, recognizes the importance of tea in its communities and as a commodity for commerce.
However, much of the working conditions for those within the tea industry still need much improvement. If you think this holiday was about drinking tea, well think again! International Tea Day is all about the tea workers and bringing civil rights into action. Let’s see how this holiday came to pass.
Do you love a good cup of tea? While International Tea Day can certainly involve paying homage to tea, we should pay homage to those working in the tea industry. The best way to do this is by helping to raise awareness regarding their working conditions so they can be improved.
History of International Tea Day
The International Tea Day campaign was launched in 2005 by the trade unions, small tea growers and civil society organizations in Asia and Africa to address the issues of living wages for workers and fair prices for small tea producers.
The International Tea Conference in New Delhi came out with an International Declaration on the rights of workers and small growers to help regulate uneven competition, land ownership, safety regulations, rights of women, social security and living wages. Another organization, The Tea Board of India, proposed International Tea Day in hopes of it becoming an official holiday to the UN Food and Agriculture Organization.
This was proposed by chairman Santosh Kumar Sarangi in 2015. According to the chairman, the proposal of India was supported by countries such as Canada, the United States, European Union, Sri Lanka, China, Japan, Kenya, and Malawi. While the holiday doesn’t have official status, the goal of this holiday is to recognize the vulnerable situations that tea producers in India have with current living conditions and worker-related policies.
The day also focuses on deliberating on urgent issues such as residues, climate change, technology and trends on production and consumption in the tea industry. To observe this day, over 150 representatives from tea organizations gather and conduct a seminar to discuss the pervading problems the tea industry has as well as problems faced within their own country.
International Tea Day Timeline
2737 BC Tea is discovered as a beverage
Legend has it that Chinese Emperor Shen Nung is sitting beneath a tea tree while a servant boiled water for drinking. Some leaves fall into the cup and begin the practice of drinking what is now called “tea”.
1610 Tea comes to Europe
It is believed that the Dutch were the first to bring tea to Europe, just a few years prior to the introduction of coffee by Venetians.
1773 The Boston Tea Party occurs
With the intention of revolting against the high taxes levied by the British government without providing any voice, residents of Massachusetts throw tea into the Boston Harbor. “No taxation without representation” is the major complaint.
2004 International Tea Day is created
At the World Social Forum, International Tea Day is conceived and then celebrated the following years in New Delhi and Sri Lanka, then later in other tea-producing places like Nepal, Viet Nam, Bangladesh and others.
2019 United Nations adopts International Tea Day
After some years of advocating for its observance, International Tea Day is adopted by the United Nations General Assembly at the suggestion of the FAO Intergovernmental Group on Tea.
How to Celebrate International Tea Day
If you’re a lover of tea, then do some research about some of your favorite companies. Try looking up tea brands that support fair trade, and possibly switch to those brands to make a difference in the way you buy products such as tea. Use the hashtag #internationalteaday to help recognize it as an official holiday and educate others about the tea industry if you’re interested.
You could also use International Tea Day to try a variety of tea you have never had before. Matcha, for example, is highly popular as of late. You need to shop with care, though! The first thing you need to take a look at is how the Matcha has been produced and sourced.
You need to ensure that all veins and stalks have been removed so that there is not any bitterness and only the finest leaves should be used. Secondly, the color of the matcha powder is a significant factor. The greener the color is, the better. This is because the leaves are forced to overproduce chlorophyll because Matcha is shade-grown, which causes the vibrant green shade.
If the Matcha is yellow or brown in color, this is a sign that the leaves have not been properly shaded or that branches and stalks have been included. The price is the third factor to consider. Like most things, if you want quality, you can expect to pay a little bit more.
If something seems too good to be true, the chances are that it is. The feel of Matcha is also important. It should be a fine powder that is very silky. Last but not least, the taste is obviously a crucial attribute when it comes to quality. It should have a clean and naturally sweet taste.
Why not make some delicious baked green tea treats on International Tea Day and have a bake sale to raise money and awareness regarding working conditions in the tea industry? Green tea recipes are available in their abundance. People are actively searching for different ways to enjoy green tea. While green tea is delicious when simply mixed with hot water, there is nothing wrong with switching it up from time to time, especially on International Tea Day!
An easy and delicious recipe is Matcha Meringue Kisses. To make this you will need Matcha, sugar, egg whites, and powdered sugar. Begin by sifting together the Matcha and the powder sugar, and then whip the egg whites until they have soft peaks. Gradually add the sugar and whip until stiff peaks. Gently fold the Matcha into this mixture and then transfer to a pastry bag. Pipe the mixture into small kisses onto a baking tray and then bake for around an hour.
Or, why not make Green Tea Donuts? For this, you need green tea, honey, melted butter, milk, egg, salt, baking powder, sugar, and cake flour. You whisk the green tea, salt, baking powder, sugar, and flour. Add the honey, melted butter, milk, and egg, and then whisk. Use a pastry bag to pipe the batter into the mould. Then, simply bake the donuts for eight minutes. You can make your own glaze to go on the top – chocolate goes well!
Other delicious baked treats to try include green tea muffins, brownies and shortbread!
International Tea Day FAQs
What is International Tea Day?
Created to celebrate and pay tribute to the countries that produce tea to supply to the world, starting in India and moving to other places like Sri Lanka, Malawi, Uganda, Bangladesh, Vietnam and more.
When was International Tea Day first celebrated?
International Tea Day first got its start in 2004 when it was celebrated in New Delhi. It grew over the years and by 2019 the day was adopted by the United Nations General Assembly.
How to celebrate International Tea Day?
A great way to observe this day is by learning a bit more about the nations who produce tea for the world. Also, don’t forget to order a cup of fair trade tea for one, or take a friend out to enjoy a cuppa together.
What is the theme of International Tea Day?
The theme for this day devoted to tea producers changes each year, but some of the past themes have included themes such as Tea and Fair Trade or Harnessing Benefits for All from Field to Cup.
When is International Tea Day celebrated?
Taking place on May 21 of each year, International Tea Day originally took place on December 15 from 2005 when it was often only celebrated by tea-producing countries. It changed to May 21 when the UN adopted the day.
Source
#Earl Grey#Earl Grey Tea is my favorite tea#Computer tea Earl Grey hot#USA#I don't like coffee#I only drink tea#original photography#always unsweetened#Lemon Black Tea Lemonade#Tropical Ice Tea#Peach Green Tea#Lavender Ice Tea#Pineapple Black Tea#Strawberry White Tea#Peach Citrus Green Tea#International Tea Day#21 May#InternationalTeaDay#travel#vacation#Capilé#Portugal
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The Rolang
Word Count: 6.3 K
“I wonder if Felix’s ever coming back,” said Lucy. “We can’t keep storing all his junk forever.”
Privately, I doubted that Felix ever would but, being preoccupied with the Scrabble board in front of me, I said nothing.
“You’re just afraid he’ll insist on taking back his room and throw you and Meg out on the street,” Matt observed, scanning his letter tiles in vain. “Why do we even play this game? All I ever get are vowels.”
“Because we’re a bunch of over-educated Ivy Leaguers obsessed with dead poets,” Lucy replied.
“You gotta have a vocabulary of more than a thousand words to win at Scrabble, Matt,” Tony pointed out, drawing chuckles from the others. “You shoulda studied Latin like the rest of us.”
As usual, Tony was watching, not playing. He glanced over at Lucy, who, as usual, was sitting on her favorite stool with her shoulders hunched. It was her concentration posture. “Not to worry, Luce, Felix is not coming back.”
“You can’t know that,” Irene said, her almost albino-white skin looking paler than usual in the soft glow of the spider lamp hanging over the large wooden table. “He said he would be back, and not to throw away his things or anything.”
“He said, but he’s been gone nearly six months, to where was it? Nepal, wasn’t it?” Lucy stirred the remnants of coffee in her cup.
“Tibet, this time,” Irene corrected. “He’s already been to Nepal twice, and spent a couple years in India besides.”
“Why in the world does he spend so much time in places like that?” Matt wondered aloud. “Nothing but poor people and lots of diseases. Why can’t he be into Medieval or English Lit, like any normal person?”
“He’s been seeking wisdom,” said Irene, without a trace of irony. “Enlightened people have doing that in the East for millenia.” When Matt rolled his eyes and grinned at Tony, she added in an exasperated tone, “Some people think there’s more to life than beer and women, Matt. Felix knows more languages than the rest of us put together.”
“So what?” Matt snorted. “He’s missing out on the best things in life to poke around musty monasteries. And don’t knock beer till you’ve tried it.”
“Typical,” sniffed Irene. “Ladies and gentlemen, Matt’s attitude is why this whole rotten Western civilization of ours is such a mess. Everybody thinking about number one, nobody ever asking the important questions, all materialism, no spirituality--”
“Spirituality, hell,” Matt said. “Didn’t you hear that message on the answering machine last week? The dumb jerk’s gotten kicked out of his graduate program at Penn. Felix forget to tell anyone at school he was taking a few months off.”
Irene waved dismissively. “He has higher priorities. I wouldn’t expect you to understand the word ‘enlightenment’.”
Lucy spoke up again. “Irene, we all know you admire him and tried learning some dead language from him – sam-… sank-… What was it?”
“Sanskrit,” Irene informed her. “Hardest thing I ever did, but he’d mastered it. Also Pali and Punjabi and Tibetan and I’m not sure how many others. He’s like a modern-day Richard Burton.”
“You mean the actor?” Tony was looking genuinely puzzled.
“The explorer and adventurer,” Irene said.
“Yeah, wasn’t he kind of kinky, researching Oriental sexuality, that kind of thing?” Matt was suddenly interested.
“Yes,” Irene said, “but he was also a real pioneer and managed to learn about all kinds of secret cults and other stuff that no other Westerner had ever learned about.”
“Somehow,” Matt said, “I can’t picture Felix going all tantric. The guy’s a marble statue, I’m pretty sure. Took him out drinking one time, or tried to. Tried to get him to pick up some girl who was totally hitting on him, and he wasn’t interested.”
“Felix has better things to do than go to bars,” Irene said.
“Whatever.” Lucy waved dismissively. “I’m sure it’s all very interesting, but didn’t you think he was a little creepy? I mean, he used to burn incense in his room in front of that horrible statue --”
I knew what she was talking about. I used to smell the incense from my room down the hall, sometimes late at night. And there was the bell-ringing and incessant chanting --.
“It’s just a Yab-yum,” Irene said. “A fertility symbol older than any Western religion.”
“Oh, is that what it is?” Matt winked at Tony. “I got a calendar in my room with a few of those.”
Irene colored slightly. “I’m sorry. I thought I was talking to grownups.”
“I don’t care what it’s called,” Lucy said. “It gave me the creeps. And all those languages – how’s he gonna make a living reciting Buddhist prayers?”
“There!” Matt said triumphantly, laying three tiles on the board. We all looked. Matt had played ‘and’ for a whopping four points.
“It’s about time,” said Irene, reaching for her tiles. “I just happen to have--”
But what Irene had remained forever unknown, because the doorbell rang suddenly, followed by a barrage of knocking.
“Who the hell--?” Matt started for the door.
“Don’t answer it, Matt. Could be some kinda nut, at this hour.” Lucy moved closer to Tony, who was the largest resident of our house.
“I’ll go check it out. You guys stay put.” I stood up, relieved for a break in the game and the conversation. I winked at Matt. “You hear a sudden scream, followed by a choking noise, just jump out the window.”
“Into that rain? No thanks, I’d rather get carved up by a psycho,” Matt said loudly.
“Will you two quit it, please? Doug, either check the door or turn out the lights.” Irene looked merely irritated, as usual, but Lucy looked nervous.
I went to the dining room door just as the knocking resumed. I pulled the door open, letting in a gust of wind and rain.
On the threshold stood a pitiful figure in a soaked poncho, carrying a muddy backpack. It was Felix.
“Felix! Come on in! We were just talking about you! I never expected to see you again, to tell the truth. Figured you’d taken up permanent residence in some monastery.” I ushered him inside, and draped his dripping poncho over a dining room chair.
Felix looked a lot thinner than the last time I had seen him, and his jet black hair was plastered over temples that did not appear to have seen the light of day for some time. His red eyes betrayed a lack of sleep, and his clothing looked as though it had not been washed in many days.
“Come on into the kitchen, and let’s get you something to eat and drink, and then we’ll get you warmed up and dried out.” In spite of the late hour, I was happy to see Felix again. He was kind of strange, but, like Irene, I enjoyed his company.
Fifteen minutes later, Felix was in the living room sipping microwaved Swiss Miss hot chocolate and munching on a cold blueberry Pop Tart. He stared at the fire guttering in the fireplace, and said nothing at all. The rest of us watched him in silence.
Finally, Irene broke the ice. “Felix, it’s really good to see you again. We were beginning to wonder.”
Felix looked hollowly at her. “Wonder what?”
“Well, um, actually – ”
“We were beginning to wonder if you’d gotten yourself killed over in Tibet or wherever you were,” Lucy said helpfully, ignoring a reproachful glance from Irene.
“Would that I had.” Felix said glumly, turning back towards the fire. “Been killed, I mean.”
“Oh, come on, it couldn’t have been that bad,” said Matt. “I mean, there’s other fish in the ocean, you know.”
Felix looked up, utterly confused. “What are you talking about?”
“Women, man,” Matt said, throwing an arm around Felix’s thin shoulders. “Can’t live with ‘em, can’t live without ‘em. What was her name?”
“Matt -- ” Irene started to rise threateningly from her chair.
“There was no woman,” Felix said. “It’s nothing like that. Believe me, I wish it was.”
“You do realize that they kicked you out of Penn,” Matt said. “You seem to have forgotten to leave them a forwarding address. You’re gonna have to apply for readmission.”
“It doesn’t matter,” Felix said mournfully. “I’m not going back. Not after what I’ve been through.”
“Well, what happened?” I asked. “You can tell us.”
“Yes,” Lucy added. “Inquiring minds want to know.”
“Why don’t you all lay off Felix,” Irene snapped. “He’s exhausted and doesn’t want to talk about anything.”
“No, that’s okay.” Felix set aside his empty hot chocolate mug. “I probably should tell you, and then you can decide whether to keep me or throw me out in the rain.”
“What, the police after you? Did you rob a bank or something?” Tony exchanged glances with Lucy.
“Do you really want to know?” Felix asked. “Because once I tell you, you may regret ever asking.”
We all answered in the affirmative. Felix sighed. “Okay, then, so -- ” He stopped abruptly and looked at me. “Doug, did you lock the door?”
I shrugged. “I don’t think so. Why do you ask?”
“Go lock it right now. And put up the chain and deadbolt. And make sure the other doors are locked as well.”
“Felix, what in the world -- ”
Felix’s nostrils flared with impatience. “Just lock the doors, now! Then I’ll tell you what happened. Whether you believe me is your problem.”
I got up and locked the dining room, kitchen, and basement doors, and returned to the living room. The Scrabble game was forgotten; all eyes were now on Felix, who had not said a word during my absence.
As soon as I sat down, he cleared his throat, and after a nervous glance at a rain-spattered window, began speaking in a soft monotone.
“You all know my interest – some would call it an obsession – with Tibet,” he began, his eyes still flitting from window to window. “After mastering Vedic Sanskrit and wading through the Dhammapada in the original Pali, I found my attention turning increasingly to the Land of Eternal Snow. The Tibetan language, of course, bears no resemblance whatsoever to the Indo-Aryan languages, except for the Sanskrit borrowings, so it seemed a worthy challenge. Neither Vambery nor Burton ever learned it, so I found myself poring through the writings of David-Neel. She made it to Lhasa at age 50, you know. Anyway, it was in one of her volumes that I first learned about the rolang.”
He fell silent and looked around again, and thunder rolled in the distance. Having no idea what he was talking about, we all waited patiently for some sort of clarification. After an interval when he seemed to be listening for something, Felix continued.
“Rolang is a Tibetan word meaning ‘standing corpse.’ The creation of a rolang is said to be the supreme feat of Tibetan magic, and its successful consummation confers on the celebrant unparalleled powers. From the moment that I first read David-Neel’s brief description of the ritual, I knew I had to research the matter further, and that meant going to Tibet and finding a sorcerer who could perform such a feat.”
At this point, Lucy excused herself and headed upstairs to her room. She was a strict vegan, and had no tolerance for any discussion of death or bloodshed.
“Say hi to Meg, Luce,” Matt called out. “Tell her she’s welcome to grace the rest of us with her presence anytime she wants.”
Lucy rolled her eyes and gave no answer.
Felix watched her go, then turned to the rest of us. “What I’m going to tell you isn’t for the squeamish, so you might want to decide now whether to follow her example.”
No one moved.
When he saw that the remainder of his audience was appreciative, Felix continued. “I flew to Lhasa and, once through customs and all that, I managed to evade the authorities and slip out of the city unnoticed with a bunch of yak herders. The Tibetans have no love for their Chinese overlords, of course, and were more than happy to aid and abet a white man who spoke their language. I got as far north as Sepogön, an area little changed since David-Neel set foot there decades ago. After making discrete inquiries among the locals, I was directed to the Thags-yang temple back in the mountains, where an extremely powerful sorcerer – one of those whom the Tibetans call ngagspa – was said to reside. No one from the village ever went near the place, which the people of Sepogön claimed was frequented by demons and the walking dead who had been resuscitated by shamans. In the end, I made the long and lonely trek alone with nothing except the clothes on my back.
“The way to the Thags-yang temple was desolate and wild, even by Tibetan standards. I saw none of the usual wildlife, and plant life was almost nonexistent. I did notice odd tracks here and there, and more than once had the sensation of being watched by what seemed to me to be malevolent eyes, but possibly it was just my imagination. Anyway, I pressed on, and reached the temple grounds late in the day.
“There were perhaps a dozen sullen-faced lamas in residence there, who were none too pleased to see a white man in their domain. Their faces softened a little when they heard me speak their language, and they finally took me to meet the presiding ngagspa. He was a magnificent fellow who wore an apron of carved human bones, and I prostrated myself before him and told him I had come to learn the secret of the rolang.
“At this he began quizzing me sharply about my background and beliefs, and it was several hours before he seemed to be satisfied I was neither an impostor nor a casual curiosity-seeker. The rite of the rolang, he told me, was, of all the rites of high sorcery, by far the most dangerous. The rolang is nothing less than a demon tenanted in a human corpse, which will destroy the one that awakens it if it can. The only way to tame the monster, he told me, was to grapple with it and bite off its tongue, and the tongue so procured becomes a ngagspa’s most prized magical possession, more so even than his phurba or magical dagger. If he failed to bite off the creature’s tongue, it would kill him on the spot or track him down and destroy him. The ngagspa told me that three nights from then, one of his acolytes was going to attempt to raise a rolang, and that he would permit me to attend, as long as I didn’t interfere and did precisely as I was told.
“For three days I lingered at the temple, witnessing many strange things. One of the lamas was a master lung-gom-pa, and could leap like a gazelle whenever he entered a trance. I was warned not to wander outside the temple grounds, since the surrounding hills were said to be infested with flesh-eating demons that only the lamas possessed the know-how to keep at bay.
“On the evening of the third day, all the lamas gathered outside the inner sanctum of the temple, a dark and clammy chamber adorned with skulls and lurid images of various Tibetan demons and demonesses, lit only by a single candle manufactured from human fat. The acolyte who was to attempt the ritual was young and obviously very frightened, and wore a black robe into which human bones had been woven. We all took our seats on the cold stone floor outside the sanctum and waited. Presently, two more lamas entered carrying the corpse of an elderly man on a white litter. We watched as these two entered the inner sanctum, laid the corpse on the floor, and withdrew. The presiding ngagspa then blessed the young acolyte and whispered something in his ear. The young man nodded and entered the sanctum.
“You can imagine my disappointment when the other lamas arose and closed and bolted the great stone door, shutting the young acolyte inside with his ghastly companion. No one, not even the ngagspa, was permitted to watch what happened next (I was later told that the doors were also closed to protect the others since, if the celebrant failed in his task, the monster would destroy anyone in its path. Once, one of the lamas whispered to me, a celebrant had been overcome, and the creature within had broken out and killed three lamas before being driven away. They found the sanctum full of blood, but the luckless acolyte had been devoured by the monster. When I asked where the rolang had ended up, the lama just shrugged and made a sweeping motion with one hand encompassing the surrounding mountains).
“On this occasion, we all waited breathlessly outside the stone door. All of the other lamas held their phurbas upright, and from through the thick stone, we could hear faintly the murmured mantra of the acolyte as he lay on the floor beside the corpse, whispering in its ear to awaken it.
“For a long time, nothing happened. Then we heard the acolyte’s voice quicken and then fall silent. Following that, there was a strange gurgling sound, and I suddenly felt a terror unlike anything I have ever felt before. Beyond the thick stone door, I knew, some unimaginably foul presence was awakening, and the fear of it coursed through the assembled lamas like ice water.
“Then the acolyte shouted aloud the Triple Jewel, and we heard the sounds of a struggle. There was a tremendous bumping and crashing around, and it sounded like the young man was fighting desperately for his life against some terrible foe. There was a clanking of metal as various idols were knocked aside, and several times the door shivered in its hinges as a weight crashed against the other side.
“This lasted for at least several minutes, when suddenly we heard an awful shriek and a blast of cold air extinguished the lamps. All of us jumped up, certain that the young acolyte within had lost the contest and that any moment, the revenant would come through the bolted door into our midst. But the head ngagspa called out for everyone to be calm, and relit one of the lamps. By its light, we could all see that the door held fast, and no sound came from within.
“The ngagspa approached the door and rapped cautiously with the blade of his phurba. From inside, to our great relief, we heard the voice of the acolyte in reply, a sort of triumphant shout. The lamas drew back the bolt and opened the door to the sanctum.
“Inside, we found the acolyte lying on the floor, utterly exhausted. His arms were laced with bloody wounds, which looked like the marks of teeth and long nails. In his hands he held a bloody tongue, a repulsive, grayish object that hardly looked to me like a great talisman. The corpse of the old man lay twisted on the floor, its eyes wide and staring. Bending down for a closer look, I could see blood on its teeth and lips and gobbets of bloody human flesh under its nails which, like the nails of all corpses, had grown long and unkempt in the days since its death. The room was in a shambles; all of the idols had been knocked over, and the extinguished taper lay trampled on the floor. I could see plainly in the dust two different sets of footprints.
“Well, I wanted to see more, since nothing of what I had witnessed was proof positive that in fact a corpse had been resuscitated. But all the lamas were convinced. They crowded around and congratulated him, and the corpse was carried off and buried in some secret spot, bereft of its tongue. As for that grisly relic, it was dried and attached to a golden necklace, and its bearer became a venerated presence in Thags-yang.
“At length, I understood my welcome to be wearing thin. The ngagspa told me that the rolang was a very rare ritual, and would likely not be attempted again for years. He did confide in me the mantra used to carry out the ritual, which I carefully wrote down, thinking to publish something sooner or later.
“I returned to Sepogön with an escort of three lamas, who kept a wary eye on the surrounding terrain, convinced we were being stalked by demons and other unmentionable beings. I bade them a warm farewell, which was not reciprocated, and made my way furtively back to Lhasa, where I mingled for a few days with the tourists before catching a flight to Beijing and then back to the States.”
At this point he paused and looked at the floor, and his face was gray with miserable fear. “I wish I’d never boarded that plane to Tibet,” he said, shaking his head. “I should have kept my curiosity in check, and stayed home. As soon as I got back, I found I couldn’t stop thinking about what I’d seen. The images of that bloodied corpse, the severed tongue, and the triumphant lama stayed fresh, and began cankering my thoughts. I began to doubt whether I had seen a display of supernatural power, or whether I’d been duped by some very clever con artists. It certainly wouldn’t be the first time a naïve Westerner fell for Oriental wiles; everybody’s heard of the Indian rope trick.”
He sighed. “After all, the lama could have made all the noise himself and dragged the corpse around to produce the footprints and other effects. As for the removal of the tongue, that could be accomplished easily enough with a keen-bladed phurba. The more I thought about it, the less convincing the whole thing seemed, until I was all but certain that I had been taken in by some clever hoaxters bent on enjoying themselves at the expense of a foreigner. At least, that was the thought that kept nagging at me. In such a condition, I couldn’t focus on my studies, and my aunt outside of Allentown, where I was staying, got impatient and threatened to throw me out of the house unless I got a job of some kind to help with expenses.
“Well, I decided to find work to help get my mind off the doubts that pecked at the edges of my every waking thought. I found a job in the county mortuary, of all things. I guess I’d already half-formed an idea of what I was going to do, and so I chose a job most suited to the purpose.
“In spite of all the stories you hear about such places, mortuaries are pretty humdrum most of the time. You quickly get used to the smell of formaldehyde and the parties of grievers. As for the bodies themselves, well, you never get completely used to them, but after a few nights, you’re no longer afraid to be alone with a cadaver, and you stop imagining things, like the dead hand that twitches in the corner of your eye, or the corpse that you think sat up when your back was turned.
“A few nights ago, I found myself alone in the embalming room with the corpse of an old man that reminded me somewhat of the one in Tibet. I saw the same attenuated limbs and blotchy face, and the same long, ugly yellowish nails. He was a Caucasian, but the resemblances were there nonetheless. And as I sat there in the embalming room, suddenly the plan that had laid half-formed in my mind for weeks crystallized. I was going to find out for myself if the rolang mantra worked. I rationalized to myself that I only wanted to verify that it in fact didn’t work, to prove that the entire ritual I had supposedly witnessed was a fraud. However, a small part of me wanted, I must admit, some kind of positive result.
“So I turned off all but one bank of fluorescent lights and knelt down beside the corpse, which lay on its back, face upward and eyes closed, clothed only in a hospital robe. The man had died that day of a massive stroke, and no autopsy had been performed.
“Feeling foolish, maybe even a little deranged, I bent close to the thing’s ear and began whispering the secret mantra over and over. At first, I promised myself that if nothing happened after five minutes, I’d give up the whole thing and forget about it. But as the minutes ticked past – hummed past, I should say, because the electric clock on the wall was the only other sound except for the rumble of an occasional passing car – I got more and more agitated and determined to somehow make the grotesque ritual work. For fifteen or twenty minutes I kept it up, sometimes louder, sometimes softer, sometimes quickly, sometimes slowly and deliberately.
“All of a sudden, right about the time my throat began to ache from the exertion, I thought I caught a movement out of the corner of my left eye, where the corpse’s hand lay on the table. Not stopping my recitation, I turned my head slightly and watched carefully. For another minute or two, nothing else happened. I had just concluded that I had imagined it, when the fingers twitched unmistakably. Again I felt that same icy terror I had experienced at Thags-yang as the forearm jerked convulsively, and then the whole body shuddered on the table. Before I could move, the head turned suddenly, and I found myself looking into the thing’s awful eyes. They were amber-colored and had this gloating expression, and the corpse’s tongue flicked provocatively at me through yellow stumps of teeth.
“I jumped back in surprise and terror and sprang to my feet as the thing on the table sat up. The lights flickered and dimmed as the rolang stood unsteadily, and I knew that I must fight or perish.
“As I had been instructed, I closed with the creature and began to wrestle with it, almost overcome by the terrible smell. Except for the eyes, it looked like a spindly old man, but it fought with the strength of a wild beast. It wasn’t breathing as such, but it did sort of make a hissing, gurgling sound from time to time. As we struggled, I forced my face against its face. It leaped and bounded about with the agility of a hare, not at all like those sleepwalking zombies in the movies. I was certain that, if I relaxed my hold at all, the thing would pounce on me like a beast of prey.
“Now we were eye to eye, and I could smell the thing’s fetid breath. It kept flicking its tongue against my cheek, mocking me, I think, and my inability to finish the job. Finally, the moment came when I knew I would have to go for its tongue or be overpowered. But before I could make the attempt, the rolang made a horrible sound, and the lights went out completely and the clock stopped.
“In the dark, I heard my antagonist give a triumphant gurgle. I knew I had no more chance, and so I shoved the monster as hard as I could, and over we went onto the floor. Somehow I disentangled myself from the creature; perhaps the fall had disoriented it for a moment. Anyway, unable to think of anything else to do, I shouted aloud the Triple Jewel and raced for the door. Behind me, I heard the rolang scrambling to get up, making a kind of low moaning sound.
“Somehow, I found the door in the pitch dark before the rolang found me, and slammed and locked it from the outside just as the thing within began attacking the door from the other side. Knowing my life depended on it, I fled on foot, returning to my aunt’s house just long enough to grab my travel bag, expecting all the while the creature to show up.
“Knowing the authorities would think I was responsible for the damage and the missing corpse, I hiked all night into Allentown, and caught a Greyhound to Trenton, where I holed up in a hotel. The next morning on the local news, I saw reports of vandalism and cadaver theft at the mortuary where I had worked. The police had gone looking for me when the damage was discovered, and had gone straight to my aunt’s house. There, they discovered her mutilated remains, and now they’re hunting for me up and down the East Coast. Obviously, the thing went to her house and, failing to find me, killed her instead. As soon as I saw the news, I fled from the hotel and rode all the way here on a stolen bicycle. Oh, don’t worry,” he added, “I won’t stay long. That thing is out there somewhere, and it’ll find me if I stay anywhere for more than a day or two.”
We all stared in mute horror at our former housemate. I’d heard news of the murder of the old woman near Allentown, but hadn’t connected it with Felix. And now he was in our midst, with an impossible story about Tibetan necromancy to conceal the fact that he had just committed a brutal murder.
“Felix,” I said quietly, “why don’t you just tell the truth? We’ll help you get a good lawyer and all that, you know we will. You can’t –“
At this Felix became very agitated. “What are you talking about? I have told the truth, improbable as it may sound. What do you think I am, a killer? Is that what you’re implying?”
For the first time, he looked at all of our faces. Seeing our expressions, he shook his head. “Oh, okay, I see now. I shouldn’t have told you the truth. You all think I’m crazy, don’t you? Well, don’t worry, then. I won’t stay if my old friends think I’m a murdering lunatic. I’ll leave right now.”
He stood and started for the door, and none of us made any move to stop him.
Suddenly, the lights went out. The rain outside had gotten worse, so we all assumed it was a power failure. But Felix made a frightened mewing sound in the dark. “It’s here,” he whispered. “It’s found me, somehow. Don’t let it in. Please, please, keep the doors and windows shut.”
In spite of the lunacy of his story, I was starting to find the whole thing quite unnerving. Felix had always been melodramatic, and now he had all of us huddling together in the dark while the storm raged outside.
“’Felix,” I finally said, after a minute or so, “I really don’t think—”
Before I could finish my sentence, Irene, who was sitting across from me, let out a scream and pointed at the window behind me. “Close the blinds, close the blinds, there’s something outside. Please, please close them, and lock all the doors. Do it now!”
“What’s the matter, Irene?” Matt said, putting a reassuring arm around her. “Tony, close the blinds and lock all the doors. Irene, what the devil did you see?”
“I don’t know,” Irene said, shaking like a leaf. “I couldn’t see the face, but there was someone outside that window just now, looking in. Someone very thin, that’s all I could see.”
“Well, whoever it was isn’t getting in,” Tony said from the dining room, trying to sound confident. He bolted and chained the dining room door and headed off to the kitchen to lock the back door.
Suddenly Irene jumped up. “What about Lucy and Meg upstairs? If there’s some lunatic outside, they ought to be down here with the rest of us.”
“Leave them,” said Felix tonelessly. “Nobody leave this room. We have to stay together. If that thing gets in --”
“Everybody just calm down and take a deep breath,” I said. “It’s just a power outage from the storm, nothing more. There’s nobody out there in this weather.”
“It’s here,” whispered Felix. “Maybe it will leave the rest of you alone. It’s come for me.”
“This is nuts,” I said. “You’ve just confessed to cold-blooded murder, and now…” I pulled out my phone and tried to dial 911. There was no reception.
I grabbed Felix by the arm. “Just cause the phones aren’t working, doesn’t mean we’re letting you run off. As soon as this storm’s over, we’re taking you straight to the police.”
Felix tugged weakly. “You need to let me go. I don’t care what you believe. You’re all in danger because of me. Just let me go and you’ll never see me again.”
“Hey, where the hell’s Tony?” Matt demanded suddenly.
Felix raised a hand. “Shhh! Everybody quiet.” He looked and listened in the dim light towards the dining room and kitchen beyond that. We all listened with him, and suddenly we all heard a stealthy sound from the kitchen, like very soft, measured footfalls.
Felix’s eyes were wide in the next lightning flash. “It’s inside, it’s inside the house,” he moaned. Then he whispered, “Quick, everyone behind the chairs, out of sight.”
Unnerved, Irene and I ducked behind the sofa, and Matt behind an armchair. Felix dove into the cubbyhole under the writing desk beside the stereo system.
We waited, trying not to breathe, as soft footsteps came across the dining room. A terrible smell of death and formaldehyde wafted into the living room, and with it, a paralyzing fear. I am not ashamed to admit I felt tears of pure terror running down my face. Irene, who was trembling and barely breathing, grabbed my hand and squeezed. The footsteps stopped. I plucked up the courage to peek around the armchair, expecting the worst. Something was standing stock-still in the doorway, but I couldn’t make out any features in the darkness, except for a couple of pricks of amber yellow where the eyes might have been. In a dim flicker of lightning, I had a brief impression of ragged hair, an emaciated frame, and bare feet, but the face was shadowed.
The thing took a step forward into the room. I was within a split second of making a panicked dash for the windows when there was a thump from upstairs, followed by footsteps in the hallway. In a flash, the apparition was gone, and we heard a creaking on the stairs.
We all came out of our hiding places, and Matt was all for making a break for it, now that the creature was upstairs. “We can’t just run away and leave Lucy and Meg,” Irene hissed, her voice breaking.
At that moment we heard Lucy start to scream, and the sound of footsteps pounding down the hall. Meg yelled from the bathroom, and Lucy hammered on the door, begging to be let in.
“Please, please, somebody do something,” Irene sobbed. “We’ve got to help them.”
But it was too late. From directly above us came the sound of the bathroom door being wrenched open, and then the most terrible screaming I’ve ever heard or hope to hear. The screaming ended abruptly, and was followed by a horrible ripping, crunching sound, like bark being torn from the trunk of a live oak tree.
At this, our courage broke, and we fled for our lives. In the kitchen, we found Tony spreadeagled across the threshold, his head nearly twisted from his torso. Irene shrieked at the sight and fled into the rain and the storm without looking back, with Matt at her heels. For some reason, I hesitated in the middle of the lawn.
Felix was standing behind me, looking back into the dark house. “It’s me it’s looking for,” he whispered, ignoring the pouring rain. “It’s not going to stop until it gets what it wants.” From a deep coat pocket he drew forth a long, ornately-carved dagger. “My phurba,’ he explained. “Maybe I can kill it with this.” He started back toward the house.
I begged him to flee, promising to hide him somehow, but he shook his head. “Time to take care of this, one way or the other,” he said. “No more running. No more killing. You run away, go!” He dashed back onto the back porch and in the kitchen door.
Unable to run away, I followed cautiously, but by the time I reached the back porch, Felix was out of sight, whether upstairs or downstairs, I couldn’t tell. I scanned the dark kitchen but saw no lurking menace.
No sooner did I step inside the kitchen than I heard Felix’s hysterical voice from somewhere upstairs. “Come out, come out, wherever you are! I’m here. Come and get me. Come on, show yourself, monster.” He added some phrases in Tibetan, or at least that was what it sounded like.
There was a thump as a door was thrown open, and Felix screamed like the damned. A horrible crash followed, and then an awful gurgling sound. I felt then such a wave of black malice, coming from the abomination upstairs, that I felt physically ill. Then suddenly the sounds stopped. There was a tearing sound, heavy footsteps, and then the crash of an upstairs window shattering. I raced to the dining room window as a heavy thud came from the lawn, and had a fleeting glimpse of a dark, wraithlike figure carrying some large burden, fleeing into the night.
The police arrived, with Matt and Irene, a few minutes later, and found me sitting on the kitchen floor beside Tony’s wretched remains, too frightened to move. Upstairs they found the remains of Lucy and Meg strewn all over the bathroom. The hallway was covered with blood and the wallpaper slashed to ribbons. But of Felix, they found only a single token, on the sill of the shattered upstairs window: a human tongue, still warm, torn out at the roots, pinned into the wood by the blade of a Tibetan phurba.
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Where's my Cabin?
Bengaluru IT companies suffered a loss of ₹225 crore on August 30 as their employees were stuck in the traffic for around five hours, the Outer Ring Road Companies Association has written to chief minister Basavaraj Bommai.
The poor infrastructure of the ORR has now reached a crisis level, they said in the letter. “It is estimated that over a half a million people are employed on the Outer Ring Road stretch, starting from Krishnarajapuram to the Central Silk Board area in Bengaluru.” The 17 km stretch is also providing direct and indirect employment to over a million people and has a great contribution to the economy of the state. It is appalling that there is no focus on the development of infrastructure in this particular area. The recent collapse of Bengaluru’s infrastructure is now a global concern and also questions the growth of the city.
There are a number of problems that start-ups can solve but one of the main problems they themselves face is the lack of affordable office space. An organization needs a physical space for employees to brainstorm together if they are to design effective solutions. Working out of garages and cafes is fine as a stop-gap arrangement but it lacks professionalism. One of the solutions emerging is a shift from traditional, independent office spaces to shared and co-working spaces.
Example: Co-working essentially involves an environment where professionals, small companies, freelancers & startups come together to work towards their business. This environment is basically a shared office space, complete with all facilities that one requires during their hours at the office, including peace of mind, high speed WiFi, coffee & chai, conference & meeting rooms, printing and lockers etc. The users pay per seat (without blocking money in security deposit, lock-in period, long terms contracts, utilities etc). Neighborhood co-working (NCW), as the name suggests, is different from co-working as it caters to the target audience nearby (< 5 kms). The fundamental premise - people love to work in a high quality office facility close to their place of residence / business rather than driving or commuting long distances.
Task in Hand
Come up with a solution for the stated problem, in order to avoid losses for the state “Karnataka” as Bengaluru is accredited to be the Startup Capital of India and all eyes are set on this issue.
Deliverables
You are to make a PPT of not more than 10 slides, including but not limited to the following:
Solution to the Issue
Detailed Plan of Action
Marketing Strategies
Financials Involved - Sources and Allocation of Funds
Creatives
Submission
The PPT has to be submitted by 11:59 PM tonight. Submissions need to be sent to [email protected].
Note
As instructed today, try to work on an amazing presentation and present your unconventional ideas to save this. Contact your Event Heads in case of any queries. See you on the other side, entrepreneurs!
Godspeed, Team ED!
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I was inspired by GQ's Five Things <Name> Can't Live Without, so my question is:
What are the five things that your MC can't live without? Can be a book, food, literally anything!
Ohh I watched one of these interviews a few days back, they're so much fun!
5 THINGS DIANA CAN'T LIVE WITHOUT
Her copy of Ethan's Diagnostic Principles and any book that she's currently reading
A Stethoscope, with her initials engraved on it, that Ethan gifted her after she passed her boards.
Darjeeling Tea, that she brings from home every time she visits India (if Ethan is a coffee snob, Diana is a tea snob)
The painting that Evelyn (the painter who had lost her vision) gave her in Book 2, it always serves as a reminder that with enough will you can do anything.
Her wedding and engagement rings.
Thank you so much for the ask Mads ❤
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Events 8.9
48 BC – Caesar's Civil War: Battle of Pharsalus: Julius Caesar decisively defeats Pompey at Pharsalus and Pompey flees to Egypt.
378 – Gothic War: Battle of Adrianople: A large Roman army led by Emperor Valens is defeated by the Visigoths. Valens is killed along with over half of his army.
1173 – Construction of the campanile of the Cathedral of Pisa (now known as the Leaning Tower of Pisa) begins; it will take two centuries to complete.
1329 – Quilon, the first Indian Christian Diocese, is erected by Pope John XXII; the French-born Jordanus is appointed the first Bishop.
1428 – Sources cite biggest caravan trade between Podvisoki and Republic of Ragusa. Vlachs committed to Ragusan lord Tomo Bunić, that they will with 600 horses deliver 1,500 modius of salt. Delivery was meant for Dobrašin Veseoković, and Vlachs price was half of delivered salt.
1500 – Ottoman–Venetian War (1499–1503): The Ottomans capture Methoni, Messenia.
1610 – The First Anglo-Powhatan War begins in colonial Virginia.
1810 – Napoleon annexes Westphalia as part of the First French Empire.
1814 – American Indian Wars: The Creek sign the Treaty of Fort Jackson, giving up huge parts of Alabama and Georgia.
1830 – Louis Philippe becomes the king of the French following abdication of Charles X.
1842 – The Webster–Ashburton Treaty is signed, establishing the United States–Canada border east of the Rocky Mountains.
1854 – American Transcendentalist philosopher Henry David Thoreau publishes his memoir Walden.
1855 – Åland War: The Battle of Suomenlinna begins.
1862 – American Civil War: Battle of Cedar Mountain: At Cedar Mountain, Virginia, Confederate General Stonewall Jackson narrowly defeats Union forces under General John Pope.
1877 – American Indian Wars: Battle of the Big Hole: A small band of Nez Percé Indians clash with the United States Army.
1892 – Thomas Edison receives a patent for a two-way telegraph.
1897 – The first International Congress of Mathematicians is held in Zürich, Switzerland.
1902 – Edward VII and Alexandra of Denmark are crowned King and Queen of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Ireland.
1907 – The first Boy Scout encampment concludes at Brownsea Island in southern England.
1925 – A train robbery takes place in Kakori, near Lucknow, India, by the Indian independence revolutionaries, against British government.
1936 – Summer Olympics: Jesse Owens wins his fourth gold medal at the games.
1942 – World War II: Battle of Savo Island: Allied naval forces protecting their amphibious forces during the initial stages of the Battle of Guadalcanal are surprised and defeated by an Imperial Japanese Navy cruiser force.
1944 – The United States Forest Service and the Wartime Advertising Council release posters featuring Smokey Bear for the first time.
1944 – Continuation War: The Vyborg–Petrozavodsk Offensive, the largest offensive launched by Soviet Union against Finland during the Second World War, ends to a strategic stalemate. Both Finnish and Soviet troops at the Finnish front dug to defensive positions, and the front remains stable until the end of the war.
1945 – World War II: Nagasaki is devastated when an atomic bomb, Fat Man, is dropped by the United States B-29 Bockscar. Thirty-five thousand people are killed outright, including 23,200–28,200 Japanese war workers, 2,000 Korean forced workers, and 150 Japanese soldiers.
1945 – The Red Army invades Japanese-occupied Manchuria.
1960 – South Kasai secedes from the Congo.
1965 – Singapore is expelled from Malaysia and becomes the only country to date to gain independence unwillingly.
1969 – Tate–LaBianca murders: Followers of Charles Manson murder pregnant actress Sharon Tate (wife of Roman Polanski), coffee heiress Abigail Folger, Polish actor Wojciech Frykowski, men's hairstylist Jay Sebring and recent high-school graduate Steven Parent.
1970 – LANSA Flight 502 crashes after takeoff from Alejandro Velasco Astete International Airport in Cusco, Peru, killing 99 of the 100 people on board, as well as two people on the ground.
1971 – The Troubles: In Northern Ireland, the British authorities launch Operation Demetrius. The operation involves the mass arrest and internment without trial of individuals suspected of being affiliated with the Irish Republican Army (PIRA). Mass riots follow, and thousands of people flee or are forced out of their homes.
1973 – Mars 7 is launched from the USSR.
1974 – As a direct result of the Watergate scandal, Richard Nixon becomes the first President of the United States to resign from office. Vice President Gerald Ford becomes president.
1991 – The Italian prosecuting magistrate Antonino Scopelliti is murdered by the 'Ndrangheta on behalf of the Sicilian Mafia while preparing the government's case in the final appeal of the Maxi Trial.
1993 – The Liberal Democratic Party of Japan loses a 38-year hold on national leadership.
1999 – Russian President Boris Yeltsin fires his Prime Minister, Sergei Stepashin, and for the fourth time fires his entire cabinet.
2006 – At least 21 suspected terrorists are arrested in the 2006 transatlantic aircraft plot that happened in the United Kingdom. The arrests are made in London, Birmingham, and High Wycombe in an overnight operation.
2007 – Air Moorea Flight 1121 crashes after takeoff from Moorea Airport in French Polynesia, killing all 20 people on board.
2013 – Gunmen open fire at a Sunni mosque in the city of Quetta killing at least ten people and injuring 30.
2014 – Michael Brown, an 18-year-old African American male in Ferguson, Missouri, is shot and killed by a Ferguson police officer after reportedly assaulting the officer and attempting to steal his weapon, sparking protests and unrest in the city.
2021 – The Tampere light rail officially started operating.
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Make Memories That Last: A Family Getaway at Hotel Sukhsadan, the Best Family Hotel in Dehradun
Dehradun, nestled in the foothills of the Himalayas, beckons families seeking a refreshing escape. With its scenic beauty, vibrant culture, and opportunities for adventure, Dehradun offers a unique blend of relaxation and exploration. And for families seeking a haven to create lasting memories, Hotel Sukhsadan emerges as the best family hotel in Dehradun.
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Amenities to Keep Everyone Entertained
Beyond the comfortable rooms, Hotel Sukhsadan, the best family hotel in Dehradun, boasts a range of amenities that cater to all ages.
Sparkling Pool: Take a refreshing dip in the sparkling pool, a perfect way to cool off on a hot summer day. While the kids splash around, parents can relax on the poolside loungers, soaking up the sun.
Children's Play Area: Let your little ones loose in the dedicated children's play area. Equipped with age-appropriate toys and games, this space provides endless entertainment for children, allowing parents some well-deserved downtime.
Games Room: Bond as a family over a game of pool, carrom, or board games in the games room. This shared space fosters laughter and creates lasting memories.
Delicious Delights to Tantalize Every Taste Bud
Hotel Sukhsadan offers a variety of dining options to satisfy every craving.
International Restaurant: Embark on a culinary journey with the hotel's international restaurant. From Indian favorites to continental delights, the menu caters to diverse palates.
Cafe: Enjoy a casual coffee break or a light meal at the on-site cafe. The cafe offers a selection of beverages, snacks, and pastries, perfect for a quick bite or an afternoon pick-me-up.
Room Service: For a cozy night in, take advantage of the convenient room service. Indulge in a leisurely breakfast in your pajamas or enjoy a romantic dinner on your private balcony.
Exploring Dehradun: Unforgettable Adventures Await
Dehradun offers a plethora of activities to keep families engaged. Hotel Sukhsadan's friendly staff can help you plan your itinerary, ensuring you experience the best of what the city has to offer.
Embrace Nature: Dehradun is a nature lover's paradise. Hike or bike through the scenic Robber's Cave or visit Tapkeshwar Temple, nestled amidst lush greenery. For a thrilling experience, embark on a white water rafting adventure on the Ganges River.
Immerse Yourself in Culture: Explore the rich cultural heritage of Dehradun. Visit the Tapkeshwar Temple, a revered Hindu shrine, or marvel at the colonial architecture of the Indian Military Academy.
Educational Fun: Spark your children's curiosity at the Indira Gandhi National Forest Academy or the Zoological Survey of India Museum. These educational institutions offer a glimpse into the diverse flora and fauna of the region.
Unwavering Hospitality: Making Your Stay Special
At Hotel Sukhsadan, the staff takes pride in their warm hospitality. Their friendly and attentive service ensures your every need is met, making your stay truly enjoyable. From helping you plan activities to providing recommendations for local attractions, the staff goes the extra mile to create a memorable experience for your family.
Beyond the Ordinary: Special Touches for Families
Hotel Sukhsadan, the best family hotel in Dehradun, understands that traveling with children requires extra consideration. That's why they offer a range of services specifically designed for families:
Complimentary Cribs: Traveling with a little one? The hotel provides complimentary cribs upon request, ensuring a comfortable sleep for your baby.
Babysitting Services: Enjoy an evening out as a couple knowing your children are in safe hands. The hotel can arrange for reliable babysitting services.
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Houseboat vacations are an enchanting way to explore the tranquil backwaters of places like Kerala in India, offering an immersive experience in a unique setting. Here’s an overview of what to expect in terms of houseboat packages, hospitality, and food:
Houseboat Packages
Customizable Itineraries: Houseboat packages typically offer a range of itineraries that can be customized according to the duration of the stay and the interests of the guests. These itineraries often include cruising through major backwater destinations, stopping at local points of interest, and sometimes even specific activities like fishing, village walks, or cultural performances.
Types of Packages:
Day Cruises: Lasting for several hours, these are great for those who have limited time but want to experience the backwaters.
Overnight Stays: These involve staying one or more nights aboard the houseboat, providing a deeper experience of the backwater lifestyle.
Luxury Cruises: For those seeking a more upscale experience, luxury packages include premium amenities, better privacy, and often gourmet food options.
Inclusions: Most houseboat packages are all-inclusive, covering meals, snacks, and beverages. Additional services often include a personal chef, a navigator, and a rower. More luxurious boats may also offer services like on-board entertainment systems, air conditioning, and Wi-Fi.
Hospitality
Personalized Service: One of the highlights of houseboat vacations is the personalized service provided by the crew. The staff typically includes a captain, a chef, and one or more helpers, depending on the size of the boat. They are usually locals who are intimately familiar with the backwaters and can share stories and insights about the local culture and ecosystem.
Crew Interaction: The crew's primary goal is to ensure a comfortable and memorable stay for the guests. They are responsible for navigating the boat, preparing meals, maintaining the boat, and addressing any specific needs of the guests. The level of interaction can usually be tailored to the preferences of the guests, providing either a more guided experience or greater privacy.
Food
Local Cuisine: The culinary experience on a houseboat is predominantly local, featuring South Indian cuisine with a focus on Keralite dishes. Meals are freshly prepared on board by the onboard chef, with a focus on local ingredients like coconut, rice, and an array of spices.
Typical Meals:
Breakfast might include traditional dishes such as idlis (steamed rice cakes), dosas (rice and lentil crepes), and accompanied by sambar (lentil-based vegetable stew) and coconut chutney.
Lunch and Dinner often feature rice with a variety of accompaniments such as sambar, mixed vegetables, fish curry (made with local fish), and other regional specialties.
Snacks might include tea or coffee with local snacks like banana chips or freshly fried fish.
Customizable Menus: For those with specific dietary preferences or restrictions, most houseboat operators are able to accommodate requests for customized menus, whether it involves preparing vegetarian dishes, jain meals, or considering allergy-specific requirements.
Conclusion
A houseboat vacation offers a unique blend of relaxation, exploration, and indulgence in local culture and cuisine. It's a chance to disconnect from the hustle and bustle of daily life and reconnect with nature in a meaningful way, all while enjoying the comforts and hospitality that come with a personalized floating hotel experience. Whether you're a family looking for a bonding experience, a couple seeking a romantic getaway, or a solo traveler in search of tranquility, a houseboat package can be tailored to fit a wide range of travel needs and preferences.
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Into the Heart of Karnataka: Mysore to Coorg Cab Travel
Embarking on a journey from Mysore to Coorg cab unveils a tapestry of Karnataka's rich cultural heritage and breathtaking landscapes.
The transition from the regal charm of Mysore to the serene beauty of Coorg is best experienced through the convenience and comfort of a Mysore to Coorg cab.
As you embark on this picturesque voyage, each mile traversed presents a new facet of Karnataka's allure, promising an unforgettable adventure.
Nestled amidst the misty hills of the Western Ghats, Mysore stands as a testament to the grandeur of Karnataka's royal past.
The city's majestic palaces, vibrant markets, and lush gardens resonate with the echoes of history, inviting travelers to delve into its rich cultural tapestry.
Setting off from Mysore, the journey towards Coorg begins, promising a seamless transition from urban splendor to the tranquil embrace of nature.
The convenience of a Mysore to Coorg cab allows travelers to traverse the winding roads with ease, soaking in the scenic vistas that unfold along the way.
As the urban landscape gradually gives way to verdant forests and sprawling plantations, the allure of Coorg beckons with its untouched beauty.
Known as the "Scotland of India," Coorg captivates visitors with its mist-covered hills, cascading waterfalls, and emerald-green coffee estates.
En route, travelers have the opportunity to explore hidden gems such as the Namdroling Monastery in Kushalnagar, where vibrant Tibetan architecture and serene surroundings offer a glimpse into a different cultural landscape.
Additionally, a stop at the Dubare Elephant Camp presents a chance to interact with these majestic creatures amidst the tranquil banks of the Cauvery River.
As the journey continues, the aroma of freshly brewed coffee permeates the air, signaling the arrival in Coorg.
The town's laid-back charm and natural beauty provide the perfect backdrop for a rejuvenating retreat.
Whether it's embarking on a trek through the lush forests of Nagarhole National Park, indulging in a leisurely stroll amidst the aromatic spice plantations, or simply unwinding by the gurgling streams, Coorg offers a myriad of experiences to suit every traveler's palate.
Moreover, the culinary delights of Coorg, infused with local spices and flavors, are a treat for the senses. From traditional Kodava cuisine to delectable homemade chocolates, every bite tells a story of the region's rich culinary heritage.
In conclusion, a Mysore to Coorg cab journey transcends mere transportation, offering travelers a gateway to the heart of Karnataka's enchanting landscapes and cultural treasures.
Whether it's exploring the royal heritage of Mysore or immersing oneself in the pristine beauty of Coorg, this voyage promises an unforgettable experience, leaving indelible memories etched in the hearts of all who embark on it.
So, hop on board, and let the enchanting vistas of Karnataka unfold before you, one mile at a time.
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Exploring India's Monsoon Magic: 5 Enchanting Rainy Season Destinations
India's monsoon season brings with it a unique charm, transforming the landscape into a verdant paradise. Embrace the beauty of the rainy season by exploring these enchanting destinations across the country. From lush green hills to cascading waterfalls, each location offers a glimpse into India's monsoon magic. Let’s embark on a journey through some of the most enchanting destinations to visit in India during the month of June.
Cherrapunji, Meghalaya: Known as one of the wettest places on earth, Cherrapunji is a haven for nature lovers during the monsoon season. June sees the region come alive with vibrant greenery, mist-covered valleys, and countless waterfalls. Visitors can trek through the verdant landscapes, marvel at the natural rock formations of Mawsmai Cave, and explore the living root bridges of Nongriat village. Don't miss the opportunity to witness the breathtaking beauty of places like Seven Sisters Falls and Nohkalikai Falls, which cascade down the hills in all their glory during the monsoon.
Agumbe, Karnataka: Dubbed as the "Cherrapunji of the South," Agumbe is a quaint hill station nestled in the Western Ghats of Karnataka. The monsoon season transforms Agumbe into a lush green paradise, with mist-covered hills, gushing streams, and dense forests teeming with wildlife. Visitors can embark on scenic treks to places like Barkana Falls and Onake Abbi Falls, explore the Agumbe Rainforest Research Station to learn about the region's biodiversity, and witness mesmerizing sunsets from the Sunset View Point. The monsoon also marks the breeding season for numerous species of frogs, making Agumbe a haven for amphibian enthusiasts and wildlife photographers.
Coorg, Karnataka: Known as the "Scotland of India," Coorg is a picturesque destination famous for its coffee plantations, mist-covered hills, and cascading waterfalls. The monsoon season transforms Coorg into a lush green paradise, with emerald-green landscapes and cool temperatures. Visitors can explore coffee estates, trek to scenic viewpoints like Raja's Seat and Mandalpatti, and visit waterfalls like Abbey Falls and Iruppu Falls, which are at their majestic best during the monsoon. Don't miss the chance to savor traditional Kodava cuisine and experience the warm hospitality of the locals during your stay in Coorg.
Alleppey, Kerala: Known as the "Venice of the East," Alleppey is famous for its intricate network of backwaters, tranquil canals, and houseboat cruises. The monsoon season brings new life to Alleppey, as the backwaters swell with rainwater, and the surrounding landscapes turn a vibrant shade of green. Visitors can embark on a houseboat cruise along the backwaters, witness the beauty of the monsoon rains from the comfort of their floating abode, and explore nearby attractions like the Alappuzha Beach and Krishnapuram Palace. Don't miss the opportunity to savor authentic Kerala cuisine served on board the houseboats, prepared using fresh local ingredients.
Mahabaleshwar, Maharashtra: Perched atop the Western Ghats, Mahabaleshwar is a charming hill station known for its strawberry farms, lush forests, and panoramic views. The monsoon season transforms Mahabaleshwar into a green paradise, with mist-covered hills, gushing waterfalls, and cool temperatures. Visitors can explore scenic viewpoints like Arthur's Seat and Wilson Point, trek through the verdant forests of Tapola, and visit waterfalls like Lingmala Falls and Chinaman's Falls, which come alive with the monsoon rains. Don't miss the chance to indulge in fresh strawberries and cream, a specialty of Mahabaleshwar, available abundantly during the monsoon season.
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The Best Dining Experiences in Shorewood, IL
Welcome to Shorewood, IL, a charming village with a culinary scene that's as vibrant and diverse as its community. Whether you're a local or just passing through, exploring Shorewood's dining options is a delightful journey through flavors that cater to every palate. From cozy breakfast spots to elegant dinner settings, this guide will walk you through the best dining experiences that Shorewood has to offer.
The Breakfast Nook: Savory Beginnings
Begin your culinary adventure at The Breakfast Nook, a local favorite known for its warm, inviting atmosphere and mouth-watering breakfast selections. The signature dish here is the Shorewood Skillet: a hearty mix of scrambled eggs, diced potatoes, onions, peppers, and your choice of meat, all topped with melted cheese. Pair it with a freshly brewed coffee or a homemade smoothie for the perfect start to your day.
Bella Vita Ristorante: A Taste of Italy
For an authentic Italian experience, head over to Bella Vita Ristorante. This family-owned gem offers a cozy, romantic setting perfect for any occasion. Start with their Bruschetta Pomodoro, followed by the house special, Linguine alla Pescatora, which features fresh seafood tossed in a light tomato sauce. Don't skip the Tiramisu for dessert; it's a heavenly blend of coffee-soaked ladyfingers and mascarpone cheese.
Smokey Barque BBQ: A Meat Lover's Paradise
If you're in the mood for some American classics, Smokey Barque BBQ is the place to be. This barbecue joint prides itself on smoking its meats to perfection. Try the Pulled Pork Sandwich, slathered in a tangy BBQ sauce and served with a side of crispy coleslaw. For the ultimate feast, go for the Ribs Platter—baby back ribs that fall off the bone, served with cornbread and baked beans.
Green Leaf Vegan Bistro: Refreshingly Innovative
Vegetarians and vegans, rejoice! Green Leaf Vegan Bistro offers a creative menu that even carnivores can't resist. The Avocado Tartare is a fresh and flavorful start to your meal. For the main course, the Jackfruit Tacos are a must-try, featuring perfectly seasoned jackfruit and a homemade vegan slaw. Finish your meal with a slice of their decadent vegan chocolate cake.
The Shorewood Café: All-day Dining
Casual, comfortable, and charming, The Shorewood Café serves up comfort food with a gourmet twist all day long. Their lunch menu features the Gourmet Grilled Cheese, a blend of cheddar, mozzarella, and provolone on artisan bread, accompanied by a cup of homemade tomato basil soup. For dinner, try the Pan-Seared Salmon with a side of quinoa salad for a lighter meal option.
Masala Indian Kitchen: Spices and Everything Nice
Experience the exotic flavors of India at Masala Indian Kitchen. Start with the Samosas, filled with spiced potatoes and peas, and move on to the Chicken Tikka Masala, cooked in a creamy tomato sauce. Vegetarians should try the Palak Paneer, made with fresh spinach and homemade cheese. Don’t forget the Garlic Naan, perfect for scooping up the delicious sauces.
The Vintage Wine Bar: Sophistication in a Glass
For a more refined evening, visit The Vintage Wine Bar. This elegant spot offers an impressive selection of wines from around the world, along with small plates that complement each sip. The Cheese and Charcuterie Board pairs excellently with their red wine selection. The cozy ambiance makes this the perfect spot for a relaxing night out or a romantic date.
Kona Ice Café: Sweet Treats and Cool Eats
When you're in the mood for something sweet, Kona Ice Café offers a unique twist on traditional desserts. Their shaved ice comes in a variety of flavors, from classic cherry to adventurous mango chili. For something more indulgent, try their Ice Cream Nachos, a fun and delicious treat perfect for sharing.
The Local Brew: Craft Beers and Pub Grub
Cap off your Shorewood dining experience with a visit to The Local Brew, a lively pub that offers a wide selection of craft beers on tap. Pair your pint with their famous Beer-Battered Onion Rings or the Brew Burger, a juicy burger topped with blue cheese and bacon. It’s the ideal place to unwind after a day of exploring.
Conclusion: A Culinary Journey in Shorewood, IL
Shorewood, IL, may be a small village, but its dining scene packs a big punch. From morning meals to late-night bites, this guide to the best dining experiences in Shorewood ensures that your culinary journey will be as exciting as it is delicious. Whether you prefer the rich flavors of a good barbecue, the delicate nuances of fine wine, or the bold spices of exotic cuisines, Shorewood has something to offer every taste bud. So, the next time you find yourself in this quaint village, dive into its delightful dining options—they're sure to leave you satisfied.
About Shorewood Bounce House Rentals:
Shorewood Bounce House Rentals is Shorewood's go-to destination for all things bounce house and party rentals. Dedicated to serving the community, they specialize in providing high-quality inflatable fun for various events and occasions. Their commitment to local needs extends beyond just rentals; they actively collaborate with businesses like "Fun Bounces Rental" to ensure every event is a memorable success. Whether it's a birthday party, school carnival, or community event, Shorewood Bounce House Rentals has the perfect bounce house or party equipment to make any gathering a hit. Trust them to bring joy and excitement to your next celebration.
Support our local members:
We highly appreciate your support to our local members. It means a lot to us. Support us here:
Fun Bounces Rental
Address: 1215 Vertin Blvd, Shorewood, IL 60404
Phone: (815) 630-0054
Website: https://www.funbouncesrental.com/bounce_house_rentals_aurora_il
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Find Lasting Friendships in India with Alyke: India’s First Friendship App
Making friends as an adult can be tough. We move to new cities, our social circles evolve, and sometimes, it feels like everyone is already coupled up or too busy for new connections. But what if there was an app designed specifically to help you find friends near you who share your interests and want to build genuine connections?
Download Alyke, India’s First Friendship App.
Alyke goes beyond just swiping left or right. It’s a platform designed to foster meaningful friendships based on shared passions and experiences. Whether you’re looking for someone to explore hidden local gems with, a board game buddy, or simply someone to share a laugh with over coffee, Alyke can help you connect with like-minded individuals in your area.
Here’s what makes Alyke unique:
Targeted Matching: Go beyond demographics. Alyke’s algorithm helps you connect with people who share your interests, hobbies, and life goals.
Safe Space: Alyke prioritizes user safety and provides a comfortable environment to build genuine friendships.
Break the Ice: Struggling with conversation starters? Alyke offers conversation prompts and icebreaker questions to get the dialogue flowing.
Ready to find your perfect match (as a friend, of course!)? Download Alyke today and start building your friendship circle!
Download Alyke and start your friendship journey! https://joinalyke.com/
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