#Delhi crime stories | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

vasito-de-leche · 5 months

Text

;R1999 TENNANT - General Headcanons

Compilation of headcanons and analysis on Tennant as a character and other related things.

I missed doing analysis like this and I got burnt out from writing oneshots, so since someone asked for a Tennant post last month or so, here we are <3

she's literally the only 5* I don't have, the woman avoids me like the plague LMFAO. because of this, the screenshots and examples will be taken directly from the fandom wikia!

On the subject of diamonds, Laurence Tennant and the House of Tennant.

I feel like we should talk first about her father, as it will give more context as to her current personality and themes. For the sake of making things less confusing, I'll be addressing Tennant by her real name (Ada) throughout this specific bullet point!

Going by Ada's Cover profile, we can confirm that she was born in Birmingham and at the age of 15, moved with her father to New Delhi.

Thanks to the 01 Story, we understand that the Tennants moved from their homeland because of Laurence's job (mining, identifying and transporting diamonds from British India to the UK). It's also worth noting that the House of Tennant seems to be extremely valuable to the UK because of their mineral/diamond related skills and arcanum - note how Ada's father is titled Sir Laurence Tennant in the first part, and how they strip him of his title.

But what the 01 Story fails to explain is the reason Laurence was persecuted. He's suspected of "an arcanum-related crime, thef, fraud" and other six unknown charges, that's all we know. The 02 Story gives a little more information on the crime he might've committed to have such a large bounty on his head.

"…Laurence Tennant stands accused of an arcanum-related crime, in which he may have turned a batch of diamonds into charcoal on their way to Britain through his arcane skill. The colonial government is still in search of Laurence Tennant and trying to locate the whereabouts of the diamonds and therefore cannot take legal action against the suspect at the moment."

Basically, he does the exact same thing Ada is currently known for. The year this event takes place in is also important - Bluepoch puts a lot of references to real people and events, and given how the House of Tennant lived through the british occupation of India and how they're related to the diamond mining industry, I'd like to talk about a very specific diamond: Koh-i-Noor, one of the largest diamonds in the world.

Now, as usual, I'm only getting this information from skimming wikipedia articles and anyone with more knowledge on this subject is free to correct me or add to the post!

The Koh-i-Noor is notorious for its conflicting and confusing origins, with the earliest mention of its existence being around the 1740s and that it was directly looted from Delhi. This diamond was passed around various royal figures, but we'll focus on what happened to it on the year Laurence Tennant went missing. In 1937, the Koh-i-Noor was put on the crown of Queen Elizabeth for her coronation.

For full transparency, the diamond had been in possession of the Royal British Family since 1851, so the idea that Laurence Tennant might've somehow acquired it while he was aaaaall the way in New Delhi doesn't exactly make much sense. Still, I feel like the year chosen for this event, the themes and the theft of diamonds, plus the subtle emphasis on british colonialism that Tennant's character has, are still worth discussing, to draw more parallels between the real events and the details chosen by Bluepoch.

Laurence Tennant might've or might've not stolen the Koh-i-Noor, for all we know he simply could've switched a handful of regular diamonds for charcoal using his arcane skills. To me this doesn't explain all the chaos that ensued, but it could still be a thing that happened!

My personal headcanon on this matter is that the House of Tennant has been doing this since the very beginning. Father and daughter share the same arcanum, after all. Laurence Tennant was stated to have been working in the diamond industry for many, many years - there's no way he could've missed something as important as the Koh-i-Noor. And in the context of politics, it's way easier to accuse the perpetrator of many different, smaller crimes than the big crime that could ridicule the crown or the authorities in power. I personally like to think this is what happened with the Tennants - that the Koh-i-Noor was found to be fake during Queen Elizabeth's coronation, that they finally realized Laurence Tennant's long scam, and they accused him of minor crimes to save face all while giving him the biggest fucking bounty known to man during those years.

What leads me to believe that the House of Tennant, that both father and daughter were scamming the crown all along, is Ada's 02 Story.

Once her father disappears, he's gone for good. Ada never mentions him again, not in her voicelines, not in her interview with Pandora Wilson. Ada never seems to grieve his disappearance, which seems weird since there's nothing that hints towards them being on bad terms. As far as we know, the Tennant family is only them.

A year after Laurence Tennant disappears from the face of the Earth, his daughter follows. In 1938, Ada also escapes the authorities that were actively supervising her during Laurence's case. We don't know how old she was exactly, other than she must've been older than 15 at minimum. And if she was spotted around the 1940s with her current age being 25, well...

For someone that young to vanish without a trace despite all the constant surveillance, all the attention drawn to her family due to her father's crime - to me it seems like she learned from the best. Especially when she begins her own career of crime in Paris that very same year, using the exact same methods as her father, the legacy of her family.

This would also explain Ada's constant lying and acting. These are all things she learned from her father, someone who was never truly obedient and loyal to the people he worked with.

I would also like to draw parallels between Ada and Druvis III. It's the same argument and parallels I talked about when discussing Forget Me Not. Feel free to skip this, if you already know the deal.

Both characters, Ada and Druvis, were part of important arcanist families, known and respected for their specific arcane skills. Both of them had to leave their homes behind: Druvis, an immigrant forced to abandon her roots and traditions for the sake of assimilating into the "american dream". Ada, who moved into one of the colonies her own country was actively exploiting, an outsider and indirect participant in the mining of diamonds.

Both characters also carry their families and legacies in their names, but whereas Druvis is constantly haunted by her past and the way people continue to talk about her family, the House of Tennant is forgotten. Ada's first birthday quote states:

Many years ago, the Tennants held a birthday banquet for their beloved daughter on this day. But now, almost no one remembers this déclassé family.

The House of Tennant is gone, despite their importance in history and the huge crime commited, no one remembers them. And yet, Ada wears her family name proudly, there's barely anyone left to remember where it comes from and the weight it used to carry.

It's understandable that people recognize Druvis. But why can't people remember the House of Tennant? I don't have an answer for this, I just think it's a very interesting thing, some food for thought!

On the subject of Tennant's ties to New Delhi, colonialism and her stance on racial and arcanist/human issues.

Not to hit everyone with heavy topics, but I feel this is an aspect of Tennant that often goes overlooked in favour of her whole seductive vibes.

Now, Tennant was born in the United Kingdom, but she has a noticeable darker tone to her skin, and while her ethnicity is never stated, it might be implied that she's a woman of color. I've seen people say that she's tan because of the time she spent in New Delhi - she does have a voiceline speaking about the scorching sun - but... She left New Delhi years ago. A tan you get from the sun doesn't ... stick for a decade. That argument doesn't make sense at all to me.

Either way, while I'll be treating her ethnicity as ambiguous, I felt it was important to note out that she might not be white, especially because of the themes I'll be addressing here.

Now, first and foremost I want to talk about the way Tennant talks of New Delhi - this is not the country she was born in, nor the place she was raised, as it's implied that she was also pretty young when she left for Paris. Yet she makes no references to the United Kingdom.

New Delhi? To be honest, I barely remember anything about it. It doesn't make much difference to England, aside from the scorching sun.

This quote? This is a lie. This is Tennant choosing to lie to Vertin for reasons I'll talk about in the next bullet point. How do I know it's a lie? Because the last item you can unlock for Tennant is this.

Cheap accessories she bought in New Delhi. And they must mean a lot to Tennant, because Pandora Wilson notes that it's impressive that she's managed to keep them until now.

The first skin Tennant gets in 1.3 is "Roaming in Delhi".

The text reads:

Back then, whenever there was a day off, I would put on a local outfit and wander around Delhi to visit some historical sites and handicraft shops... Those days were fun. Yours, Tennant.

Clearly, Tennant still thinks about Delhi. The time she spent there must've been important to her because to this day, she still carries part of it with her.

I believe that during her time there, Tennant came to understand the way rich countries exploit others, the lengths they'll go for something as simple as diamonds. And now, knowing that she dressed up as a local and saw their way of life first hand during the british occupation, it gives a lot more depth to her character and why she seems to cherish New Delhi above all the other places she's been in.

I won't pretend I'm a history buff. Again, all this information comes from quick searches and reading wikipedia articles. I'm a person of color myself, but I cannot speak on the struggle India and its people went through.

What I gathered is that Tennant lived through the last stages of the Indian Independence Movement. And given how Tennant was spotted in the 1940's, it's safe to say that she outlived the British Raj, as India gained independence in 1947. The fact that all of these important events were chosen for her backstory doesn't seem like a coincidence to me. It makes sense that Tennant does not abide by laws and is considered a criminal - because the authorities she witnessed were anything but just and fair to the commonfolk. We must also take into account the issues R1999 introduces between arcanists and humans, which overlap with our own racial issues in the real world to a degree.

This might be a reach from my part, but notice how the news from Tennant's 01 Story change when addressing her father. First it's "an official in British India, Sir Laurence Tennant", when they believe him to be missing. Later, after they issue a wanted notice, it's "senior official, mineralogist, arcanist Laurence Tennant". They've already stripped him of his title and now that he's officially a criminal in the eyes of the government, they felt it was necessary to state he was an arcanist. And sure, they also stated his previous role and his job, but as a person of color myself it definitely feels similar to the way POC's ethnicities are highlighted in media whenever they're accused of crimes.

Language and wording matters a lot, and perhaps this is why Tennant knows this, why one of her most effective methods is sweet-talking.

Either way, Tennant does speak of politics and I think her character as a whole was meant to be political given the details we just discussed. There's this exchange at the beginning of her interview with Pandora Wilson:

Pandora Wilson: What's the difference between Britain, India and France to you? Tennant: Nothing different, my beautiful lady. Pandora Wilson: What do you mean? Tennant: For me, humans are all the same, no matter where they are from. Tennant: We share the same virtues and the same weaknesses, and we can't do anything about it. They are part of human nature.

Tennant has experienced all three points of view - that of the oppressor, moving to New Dehli because her family's business is involved in the diamond mining market. That of the oppressed, both as an arcanist and from the times she disguised herself as a local to experience life as just another girl from New Dehli. That of a third party, oblivious to the issues, in a brand new country who does not concern itself with these matters and live a beautiful life in ignorance.

She doesn't see any difference when it comes to all these countries she visited, because she knows of the struggles and how stupid prejudice and bigotry are.

Arcanists, within the universe of R1999, are hinted to be an entirely different race to humans because of the many differences in their biology, with their appearance being one of the things they share. And yet, Tennant doesn't make this distinction - WE share the same virtues. WE can't do anything about it. We are all the same, no matter where we come from.

Tennant, despite the lies she attempts to sell to the world, is an extremely grounded individual, just as multifaceted as the diamonds she recreates!

On the subject of Tennant's lies.

We can't talk about Tennant without addressing her whole lying motif. I've already covered characters who aren't fully transparent with their thoughts, feelings or intentions - not necessarily deceitful on purpose like, let's say, Forget Me Not, but just misleading.

In Tennant's case, this is taken to an extreme.

She's described as a fraudster, a con artist. There's a lot of stress into the fact that one cannot trust her. Deceit runs in her family, her medium is lies, her Inheritance Skill is called "Beautiful Lie". She states that her hobby is "diddling", cheating and scamming others...

And yet, this entire act is a performance.

This might be a controversial take, but Tennant is honest.

She delivers exactly the sort of behaviour and persona that people expect her to, the one she's built throughout the years. She's playing a character and performing for those willing to approach her despite the very red flags - because Tennant makes it extremely obvious that she's not someone to be trusted. You can see it in the way she speaks to Vertin.

Sunlight eases people's mind and endows diamonds with glowing luxury. What a perfect occasion for deceiving.

Good morning, my lady. I've prepared you fresh coffee, sandwiches, and this shiny diamond. Of course, I would never lie to you. This is a piece of cultured work. But look how it sparkles, how elegant, isn't it?

If you want to, you're always welcome at my place. I will be here, with my cleverest scam, waiting for your arrival and, of course, an invitation to yours.

This isn't to say that Tennant doesn't lie - she does that a lot, a good chunk of her voicelines are directly contradicted by her items. The voiceline in the middle is a lie. She's lied to Vertin already, when she said she did not remember New Dehli. She vaguely poses as a man...

If else, lies are to be expected when she's playing her part, when she's painting a picture of her nature as a con artist for you to fall for.

And speaking of falling for Tennant, aside from the whole counterfeit diamond scam, seduction is another aspect to her character. I don't have to go in-depth about this because everyone and their dog has seen her Insight 2 illustration, a good chunk of women who play the game did it because of Tennant's charms. Every day I look through the tag and see people talk about how Tennant was the one character that enticed them to play.

But I will point out a few other details! This is one of her voicelines.

So what's next? The young lady of the rich, resolute and courageous as she is, disregards my humble beginnings and takes her possessions to elope with me. But then, I will leave her and disappear, forever.

And this is the information given for her second birthday login.

On this day, countless maidens in Paris went dizzy with love. They all just happened to encounter an elegant, charming gentleman who gave them a "unique" invitation to a birthday date.

These fleeting relationships, her constant flattery and flirting - they're part of the performance and all the women who fall for it are willing participants. As far as I know, Tennant never steals from them, her targets being merchants and people who can afford to spend money on diamonds so frivolously.

This is why Tennant insists her behaviour is harmless, it's a game. Her conversation in the Wilderness is a perfect example of the way she operates, specifically the way she opens with:

Ironically, diamond itself is a product of lies. I merely add a new layer to it, won't you agree?

The phrase "a product of lies" is very evocative to me. Tennant more than anyone is aware of the truth about diamonds - their value is artificially inflated to support the whole market, but they're not that valuable and they're mostly sold to rich people. So she's right, a diamond is a product of lies! But this phrase could also be read differently, like the way a diamond is born from coal, or the way something so "high class" and brittle could be created through insane amounts of pressure and work. Again,

Bluepoch gives their character many, many layers, the same way Tennant adds yet another layer to the lies of a diamond.

"It's just a lie known to everyone."

So, to summarize: Tennant is honest and upfront about her lies, she's playing a character. Her big scam is to make people fall for something so obvious - she makes maidens fall in love with her despite everything, she makes merchants buy into her fake diamonds. It's both an innocent performance and a risky game she plays. It's like her Ultimate says - she has a sincere heart, just split into many pieces.

What leads me to believe that Tennant is also a very kind-hearted woman is the fact that one of her skills is a shield. This is also something I talked about when analyzing Dikke, since she's also a very violent person whose healing skill give more insight into her character. It's the same for Tennant here!

"People have always dreamed of such thing, no matter it's in the distant universe, or right in front of them."

These little things and the previous point portray a different Tennant altogether - she's offering a harmless, whirlwind romance to many girls out there who are willing to play along, who are enticed by the danger without knowing they're safe and sound by her side, to give them a taste of something beautiful and fleeting. She carries around a gun that is explicitly "seldom pulled out".

To end the post, I have to admit I don't have many in-depth headcanons for Tennant? At least not enough to warrant more bullet points, and I already sprinkled a few throughout the post, so that's about it from me!

#reverse 1999 #reverse: 1999 #reverse 1999 tennant #reverse 1999 headcanons

117 notes · View notes

milknhonies · 5 months

Text

Sir Sherlock Holmes & The Indian Princess

शर्लक बाबू और भारतीय राजकुमारी

Chapter 1 || Masterlist || Chapter 2

Chapter Summary: In England, Sherlock Holmes receives an alarm letter from his dear friend Doctor John Watson. In Delhi, You don't mind being a teacher, but with new building plans, you reflect on your circumstances and opportunities.

Pairing: Sherlock Homes x Desi!reader

Chapter Warnings: 18+ Dead Dove Do Not Eat, Slow burn, generational trauma, colonisation, implied murder, death of a parent, classism & caste.

Word Count: 6k

Author Notes:

★ Everything written in bold is being said in Hindustani

★The Reader character goes by the last name Newalkar and is the daughter of Damodar Rao Newalkar → the adopted son of Rani Laxmibai. I must advise this story is pure fiction but based in the occupation of the British Raj that invaded and Colonised India.

★I am a White European/Australian woman, I apologise for any cultural or historical inaccuracies. I am receiving help from online sources and desi Tumblr mutual @livesinfantasyland and I heavily encourage other Indian/South Asian/Desi readers to share their thoughts, constructive criticism and help as I write this story.

Inspiring Song: "Paint it Black" by Ciara

11:35pm Thursday 26th June 1890, 221B Baker Street, Marylebone, Westminster, London, England.

This story begins and ends with the sound of rain.

Tink!

The roof had begun a leak. And when this leak came to play it had a habit of landing directly on the head of a disgruntled and lonely fellow. The greatest detective in London who could not find a friend. Granted I must inform you, Mr Sherlock Holmes did in fact have some friends, but by misfortunes, none were presently in the country.

Tink!

He angrily sighed. Another drop of rain hit his head.

He launched from his arm chair and grumbling moved an empty teapot to sit on the cushion he previously sat. The drops thus made a small tinkling as they landed inside the empty pot.

Plonk!

He rubbed his eyes and checked the time on the mantle piece clock. He had lost weeks of his life. Hours squeezed down to into unknown days or months, he could not tell. It did not help how he consistently drew the curtains closed to design total darkness other than the fireplace and his candles to light up his home.

A light shiver ran up his spine. The weather was dangerously cold today. His fingertips upon inspection grew from pale white to a dark pink.

Plonk!

He wandered if perhaps it was time to have a holiday in sunny Spain.

A knock on his door broke his imagined vacation like a hammer to glass.

His pesky landlady Mrs Hudson intruded on his stuffy dust filled space. She grumbled nonsense about the filth of her apartment she’s rented out to the famous Detective before handing him a thick envelope.

Plonk!

And the moment he could see and recognised the handwriting he snatched the Letter from her wrinkly fingers and banished her with a bellowing shout. The woman fluttered out and muttered her further disgusts of his treatment.

Plonk!

But Sherlock did not care for her opinion or rather anyone’s for that matter, Sherlock only cares about the stamp he tore opened the parchment he eagerly unfolded.

John Watson. Doctor, soldier and dear friend. He was Sherlock’s greatest companion to note. He had never felt such brotherly love until he met the very man seeking a roommate here in baker street.

Doctor and detective used to comb London for clues to solve crimes and very noticeably took an interest at the sports of pleasure. The luxurious brothels of London welcomed him and his friend with open arms and spread legs. Doctor Watson was the easy victim of sex while Sherlock was one to enjoy his opium pipe and watch his friend succumb to the mouths of half-pound harlots.

And among these adventures of interesting women did the doctor find himself in a savage tussle with another jealous male patron...

Sherlock recalled the evening with mirth. His dear friend, brother in arms had been pummelled to a pulp and drunk as a daisy. So when Sherlock escorted him to a hospital, the imbecile had declared that he was doctor of the ward and did not need any stitches. It is a grand thing perhaps Doctor Watson could not fathom the memory of yelling too proudly that his medicine could be only found in the elixir of a woman’s warm cunny.

His nurse, a dirty bird at heart had giggled at this...that nurses name was Mary Mortenson. And she became the very enamoured Mrs Mary Watson.

Sherlock was not fond of his friend becoming so besotted with his bride. He tolerated the woman’s presences at best. Unspokenly, the detective saw competition to gain the doctors attention and it was becoming far too obvious that Mrs Watson would win. Every. Single. Time.

After a month of young love the married pair had decided their honey-moon should be experienced back in John’s birth land...Delhi, a city in India. Mary was to meet the senior Mr and Mrs Watson. Coincidently, the English rose was not averse to the foreign lands…she so happened to have been born in Agra. Happy and married, they boarded and sailed across the sea.

Sherlock had high hopes their ship would run scarce of supplies so they might return quickly. He missed his dear friend and even his annoying wife.

The letter in between if thumbs and fingers were the first words from them he had gotten in nearly three months. The letter read as followed...

“Dear Sherlock,

Mary and I have come to my home I grew up in as a boy. I was blessed with my parents merry welcome. However, unfortunate circumstances have designed two coffins. For merely a week into our visit my beloved parents have passed. I have yet to decide whether to bury them in the English tradition or burn them in the Hindi ritual. My predicted return back to Baker Street may appear futile and non-existent. Please. Come visit us as soon as it is convenient.

13, 25, 27, 16, 1, 18, 5, 14, 20, 19, 27, 8, 23, 5, 27, 2, 5, 5, 14, 27, 13, 21, 18, 4, 5, 18, 5, 4.

Your sincere faithful friend, Doctor John H. Watson.”

Plonk!

Sherlock’s eyes raced over the page, and cupped his mouth staring at the plethora of numbers. They were not any numbers. John was a simple man, he wasn’t the smartest being but Sherlock appreciated his humble attitudes, he liked the doctor admitting he wasn’t a world genius, just a man who knew his medicines.

So when an enigmatic set of numbers was written at random Sherlock thought of the most simplistic cypher.

For every number was a letter. 1 being A and 26 being Z, leaving 27 to be a space between a word.

His brows lifted. The message was clear and alarming.

Plonk!

“My Parents Have Been Murdered.”

He determined his dear doctor had written this cryptic message under the desire of secrecy. His eyes lit up. It meant John needed Sherlock’s help. A case. Something was amiss. John did not know the killers name. If he did, he would’ve written it or not bothered to write asking Sherlock to visit at all.

He couldn’t have run faster to his rooms to start backing as soon as possible.

Plonk!

Sherlock Holmes had know idea what he was going to find in a land he had only heard stories from Watson’s childhood. He was eager to see his friend, to help him and to finally have an adventure.

01:35pm Friday 11th July 1890, Anglo Arabic Secondary School, Desh Bandhu Gupta Rd, Ajmeri Gate, Delhi.

You dragged the piece of white chalk across a black board and sketched a simple phrase in the English language. You smiled to the young faces that filled the room, sitting in long benches and desks. Their eyes wide and curious, eager to learn.

You waved your hands, “Now, clean your chalk slates students, you are going to learn how to spell good afternoon in English.”

They wipe them down with their small damp clothes and tucked them away in the groove at the top of their slanted desk. You waited patiently until they all sat with their hands resting flat on the wooden desks, mouths shut, eyes seeking knowledge.

You underlined each letter of the first word, “Gee, ouw, ouw, dee, this spells ‘Good’ and now ‘Afternoon’ is Aya, eff, tee, Ee, Ara, eynnn, ouw, ouw, eynn.”

The young boys sounded it out with you. Their sweet pubescent voices unionised. You smiled. They were so advanced at such a young age, most of the boys had come from average and wealthy families that could afford them to come to such a fine school. Many were Muslim, others Hindu, it was a good sign of peace. The youth coming together despite their differences. And on odd days you would teach the white children, boys and girls of British and French families who wanted their children to learn Hindi, Arabic and Urdu.

You didn’t mind teaching white children, some of the boys could be very disrespectful but you gathered it was behaviour picked up from their arrogant fathers. It wasn’t the young boys who had pillaged these lands, it was their fathers and grandfathers.

“The gee,” you circled the G, “Remember in English is also pronounced like Guh and,” you tapped the double o’s, “Ouw ouw in english together when two is said ‘oooowa’. Followed by dee being said as Dah. So, let’s say it together?”

You dragged a white line under the word and sounded it out with your students.

“Guh-oooow-dah.”

You smiled.

You repeated, “Good.”

“Now let’s look at the word ‘afternoon’,” you announced.

You cleaned the board and looked back at your students. One of the little boys who sat in the front was rubbing his eyes. You smiled softly. He was only six years old. His older brother, a young man now would most likely be the one to collect his brother from school and carry him sleeping back home. You looked at the bell tower just outside the window. It was nearly time for your students to go home and you to return back to your lodgings.

“Aye and eff is said as AAaff, then tee is a quick Tuh! And what is Ee and Arrra sound together children?”

“Errr,” they all purred.

You sounded out half of the word with them, “Aafftuherrr.”

You rubbed your chalk dust covered fingers together and further explained as you pointed to each important letter, “eynnn makes a Na, sound. And we just practiced double ouw, so sound it out.”

Like a symphony of speech, you all said together, “Guh-oooow-dah Aafftuherrr, Na-ooow-na. Good Afternoon.”

The deep bowing clang of the bells outside rang through the yard and open window shutters. The children looked eager to leave. Their hands were readily holding their slates, ready to put them inside the empty wooden box in the corner of the classroom where they kept all their slates and dusters and the bucket for where they kept their chalk.

“Good afternoon students,” You bided.

“Good afternoon Teacher Madam,” They called back.

“You may go back home now. Practise your English alphabet song.”

The boys were fast as rabbits, leaping from their desks and fleeing the classroom out the hall and down the stairs. But some at least saluted you as they left. It was a habit they’d picked up from the white boys who saluted their male teachers. You smiled to yourself as you waved them out. Each left with beaming smiles and playful chatter among themselves.

As you went about sweeping the floor after wiping the chalk from the board, you wondered if you should go to the temple and pray for your students successful education or if you should consider washing your clothing today. It had been very dry today, any moment and you knew the wet season and humid rain would arrive to flood the streets clean of dust and fill the forests with life of green goodness.

As you put away the English education books on the small shelves by the door, a familiar face came rushing in, flushed and excited

If it wasn’t her jingling anklet and bangle that announced her To your classroom, it was her shrill cry of your name that did.

“Y/N! Quick!” Miss Anjuli Paraiyars exclaimed, “You need to come with me.”

Her dark ink hair was peaking out from her sun patterned veil. The wispy curls stuck to her sweaty forehead and framed her dazzling walnut eyes. They were flooded with mischief that matched her biting lip. Her brows wriggled lightly.

Placing the last book onto the shelf you turned to acknowledge your dear friend.

“Anjuli,” you happily sighed, “Whatever is the matter?”

She waved her hands about, hoping to quicken you along and out the door, “It is the Watson son, Doctor Watson, he wants to speak with you with important news.”

Your eyes widened. ‘What on earth does that poor soul wish to say to me? After the death of the good Mr and Mrs Watson, I would assume he was still in mourning, why would he call upon me?’

Following your friend outside into the scorching sun, you lifted your saree over your head. She had her family Ox and cart waiting outside the school gates.

“What important news Anjuli?” You said a little standoffishly.

“He’s offering you a job,” She said giddily. She climbed up into the cart and leant down offering her hand to you. Once in the cart side by side she sighed, “That’s all he would tell me,” She grabbed the reigns and cane and tapped the Ox to start moving out onto the dirt road, “But we all know how very generous he can be like his dear parents.”

Anjuli was right. The late Victoria and Hamish Watson’s were angelic to the local community. Victoria had been the very soul to teach your late mother English and she was the one to encourage you to attain education enough to become one of the very few first female Indian teachers. She was a well known philanthropist, often aiding the sick and homeless and funding the Indian hospitals. Hamish was a local accountant, financial advisor and lawyer. He was known to be good to the children particularly. He would often hand out sweets as he walked down the street with his briefcase bag. He often aided the locals find new homes when the British planned to evict them and replace white families in their place. The English couple had lived in the country for many decades, long before you were even born. They spoke fluently enough and mimicked the culture so well that you could’ve believed they were born here themselves.

You sat back and nodded, “May their souls attain moksha.”

02:45pm Friday 11th July 1890, Willingdon Crescent, Central Ridge Forest, Delhi, India.

The sun baked down on the streets of Dehli. The Ox cart rolled along, it’s tail flicking the flies circling it’s flank every so often.

You pinches your saree scarf and covered your face before a bug could fly into your mouth.

Anjuli had to hold the reigns and cane, she leant closer to you and giggled as she nodded to the khaki covered soldiers. Walking by in many small groups.

Anjuli had a terrible habit, she fell in love too easily. For some ungodly reason Anjuli admired the foreigners that had come so long ago and invaded your beautiful country. Maybe she liked how different they looked. The flaxen hair and ice blue gazes in the faces of pale freaks were so opposite to the raven manes and hairy russet warmth of Indian men. It was erotic for her. You just didn't understand how she could so easily find infatuation with the people you considered an enemy, and so should she.

“Oh look at them,” she giggled girlishly.

You rolled your eyes, “I’m looking.” There was a timid strain in your voice. You had no real interest to entertain Anjuli’s fascination.

When Anjuli noticed how you in fact we’re not looking but rather looking ahead on the road path she playfully smacked your arm.

“Look!” She sucked her teeth and teasingly scolded, “Do you not know delight at the sight of men?” She reached forward and abruptly touched the front of your blouse, squeezing around for the softness of your breasts, “Are you sure you’re a full grown woman?” she smiled wickedly and prodded her finger in between your legs covered by your top petticoat.

You squeaked loudly and batted her hand. She howled with laughter and kept giggling even as you scowled at her beneath your veil.

You turned your head away from her and scoffed, “I am not as easily swayed by British soldiers. They look so sickly as pale as they are,” your nose wrinkled, “How could I righteously take a husband in front of beloved Lakshmi and her Vishnu when they look like they tempt Yama too take them at any moment?”

Your friend rolled her eyes, “Oh nonsense,” she tapped your hand and waved her fingers into a crowd of soldiers, “See there that one, his hair the colour of wheat, he is a handsome man. He would make a fine husband.”

And as the cart rolled passed, you couldn’t help gag at the smell of the same man Anjuli proclaimed would make a fine husband.

‘A fine swine perhaps. Many sow in heat could come trotting to him from miles with such a putrid scent.’

Your head wobbled and your flat palm waved at her, “A husbands good qualities are not to stand on his appearance alone. One day he will grow old, fat, bald and ugly.”

A long dragging sigh came out from the woman beside you. She managed to move both reigns into one hand and playfully tugged your saree away from your face

“You’re no fun, come on,” she jerked her chin out to the same street as the ox was about to pass another group, “Tell me you don’t find any of them a little attractive?”

You stared at the oncoming group and now sucked your teeth. You crudely stated, “They’d be far more attractive if they left. Went back to their lands, leave our villages and the people of Bharat in peace.”

Anjuli stared blankly at you. Before she could pinch and prod you again you relented and noticed one of the men in the crowd so different from the others.

He was tall, his hair a dark chestnut that matched the shade of his suit. His face was bare and clean in comparison to the soldiers who all adorned moustaches and muttonchop beards on their faces. He was carrying a rather large brief case and walking stick.

“Fine...that one,” you nodded, “In the brown English clothes.”

“The one wearing a suit?” Anjuli snickered, “He’s not a soldier though?”

You giggled,“And it is for such a reason I find he is most handsome among them.”

You both gazed at him as the ox fully passed by. Anjuli smiled at you.

“He is rather tall. Strong. What do you think he does?” She asked, “Maybe he is a farmer, or a bricklayer?”

You shook your head. ‘No. He couldn’t be.’

“He dresses too finely. It is not their Christian Sunday Sabbath today. He probably is a rich businessman, with a wife and children.”

You looked back to the path as the dusty road became thicker in trees and travel further away from the street. You thought about that strangers wife, what she might look like, probably some English rose with a house full of servants at her command, surrounded by maids and wet nurses for her children. She would live in a grand house and hold soiree’s, welcoming guests from all around to celebrate life. She would have a massive library and a place of worship. It was the life you should’ve had, the life you were owed and denied merely by the changing events of history and the extinguish of your father’s birthright.

Your soft smile faded; you felt a twinge of repulsion mixed with a hint of anger. You’d think after all these years you would’ve chosen to forget this, ignore this, let go and accept your circumstances in this life.... You didn’t live with your father anymore who would remind you practically daily why not to trust the English or any white man, as if you didn’t witness their subjecting abuse and consistent disrespect.

Your eyes fluttered shut, you reached to your side and touched Anjuli’s wrist. She was your truest friend despite her differences and low status. Anjuli came from a Shudra family, and you? You were the daughter, the descendant of Brahims and Kshatriyas...now lowered to the Shudra caste class…You never knew the lavish life of the Jhansi palace, nor tasted the rich foods served on golden plates and surrounded by pretty creatures of the palace menagerie. You would never know the joys of running through the gardens with other children in the royal family.

Everyone was gone, everything was gone. All that was left was your father who scarcely remembered that life but shared all he remembered so his memories would live on through you and bring you hope that one day it would be yours. It was a cruel false hope…

Eighteen years ago, you had been born inside of a nice house in Indore to the daughter of a prestige painter Vasudeoraobhau Bhatavdekar. As far as you knew, your father loved your mother very much for the incredibly brief time that they were married. A rare jewel in beauty is how he described her often. A marriage of love and choice. Your father said she was softly spoken and obedient, but it was her unconditional love for him and his dreams that held his heart in appreciation.

It was by unfortunate command that she would fall ill to childbed fevers after you were born. After you…a girl...not a son. You were nothing in the eyes of the British raj and had no chance of being installed as an heir for any restoration…you were the last hope and failed before your first breath. And that was something you’d never forget.

For a small time, you were raised in that home and then it was decided by your father that you would learn English. His tutors were not available, so he cut your hair short and shipped you off to Delhi with your young uncle Save to the Anglo Arabic Secondary School…It did not take the teachers and headmaster long to discover you were a girl. Before you were to receive the beating of a lifetime it was Mr Hamish Watson who so happened to be accounting the school costs to save you. He took you to his wife who taught you English and then set you to live with his maid servants, Anjuli’s mother.

Your friend spoke after some time of silence, “Oh, I’m meant to tell you- My cousin Vijay sent word this morning, he’s seeking a wife. My mother wants me to ask if you’d like to meet him, a prospective match.”

Your lips curled into a sneer, “Isn’t he the one that use to tie our braids together in a knot during Diwali and chase us around the street making animal noises?”

You recalled a young teenage boy about five years your senior with a tooth gap and ruffled hair. He was so annoying, calling you names and bullying you by calling you fat and ugly. He was spoilt and rude. He mocked you when you told him you were a princess. He said you were a princess of pimple pox and nothing more. Oh how you remembered the way your blood boiled.

“We were children, he was playing, only a boy,” she smiled, “He’s a man now, studying to be a barrister in Bombay but he will be visiting in a few weeks to help us move.”

Ah yes, the dilemma you needed to find a solution too soon. It was a month ago that a letter had been nailed to the house door, it was an eviction commandment made by the British military and government. The Paraiyars family and you had to leave the home in Raisina hill, why? Because the British do what they like…building concrete monstrosities over beautiful land and demolishing the history of your people like it was worthless dust. Rumours spread about a grand governors palace was to be built there, but they couldn’t burn the village to ash with people living inside...well....at least not on their "morally good Christian conscious."

“Vijay I believe owns a cottage near the seaside. You could be his bride and live with him instead of moving back to Indore to your father.”

Moving back was not possible...not after his most recent letter.

“Father has…felt it improper for me to move back to Indore. He believes that my existence would cause me more harm than good under his jailers’ eyes…His pension he shares I give mostly to your mother for board. I have saved my wages, I am considering…moving to a boarding workhouse in Jhansi or Agra, but tell your mother I would like to greet Vijay when he arrives…”

You smirked looking down at your fingernails, “Lakshmi forbid I run out of money and need to resort to the ‘charity’ of Christians or to prostitution.”

Anjuli made a face, shaking her head and brushed her shoulder into yours, “You wrinkle your nose at every man, white, black or bronze,” she smiled cheekily, “I doubt you’d make a good prostitute.”

“Anjuli!” You shrieked.

Both you and her erupted into a large happy shrill of giggles enough to gain head turns from passing public. You and her playfully poked your elbows into each other. Anjuli was right, there was no chance that you could make a suitable prostitute…you hadn’t had sex and didn’t know how to please a man, most men you barely liked. They could be selfish. Anjuli on the other hand, she was a frisky thing. She had kissed a hundred men and given her ‘precious flower’ to a boy back when she was thirteen. She had no shame. Anjuli had shared her sordid tales of lust to you many times. You knew her boyfriends that snuck her out at night and returned her by morning. You promised never to tell her mother or father who surely would’ve disowned her if they knew how promiscuous she was. It was best if they believed she made money with her parents in the markets selling dyed clothes and wooden jewellery boxes.

03:04pm Friday 11th July 1890, 5 Bistdari Road, Central Ridge Forest, Delhi, India.

Arriving to the Watson Bungalow was simple enough, the ox cart rolled and bumped over the rock and sandy grooves of the path. Anjuli pulled the reigns of her beast and helped you both down. She tied her ox to the outside gate posts, the precious creature lowered its head and munched on dry grass that still was hinted in green. The ox would be glad as soon the wet season would hit and all the food delight lush and green would return.

You and Anjuli stepped inside and removed your sandals, Anjuli then led you through the house. It had been some time since you had been here. Anjuli’s mother was dismissed as Mrs Victoria Watson’s maid when the new Watson bride had arrived.

Doctor Watson, their son was a short ferrety man. His face was covered in a long mutton mustache like a snake of hair slithering along his face. He was a grown man from the teenager you had met many years ago. His parents had sent him to Europe to school, as far as you were aware he had join the army and fought in some notorious war battles like The of Battle of Abu Klea.

As you entered the bureau office, you found him hunched over some paperwork, his brows scrunched. His eyes lifted up and brightened his face on seeing you both.

“Oh Miss Paraiyars, Anjuli dear,” he said clapping his hands and opening a drawer in his desk, “Thank you so much dear for bringing darling Miss Newalkar here. Here,” he handed Anjuli a small bag and slipped four rupees into her hand, “and take these sweets back to your Mataji, Mrs Paraiyars.”

Anjuli put her hands together and smiled, wobbling her head before leaving you alone to return outside back to her ox cart.

You had your hands pressed together peacefully while the doctor hobbled over to you from around the desk. He was smiling brightly and nodded his head to you, offering you a chair in front of the desk.

“Y/N thankyou for coming on such short notice. I requested your presence in person to offer you a job position.”

Your smile fell, you sheepishly explained to the man, “I am currently employed at the Anglo school Doctor, Babu.”

The doctor nodded, “Yes…Anjuli tells me you are still teaching the children English and Hindi?”

“Yes Doctor Babu,” you confirmed.

“How much are you paid per month?” he asked quickly, touching his lips lightly in thought.

“Twenty five rupees,” you said softly, you didn’t dare try to sound prideful.

The doctor smiled and pulled out a piece paper contract, he then stated, “I will pay you a hundred per month.”

Your eyes widened, and then narrowed. It was too spectacular to be true, it sounded Impossible. Your fathers pension was only a hundred and fifty rupees a year, for the doctor to give you a hundred per month was unfathomable wealth. What on earth was he wanting from you!?

“What is the position,” you swallowed breathlessly, “Doctor Babu?”

“Housekeeper and…a carer,” he sighed, “I need you to live here, and watch over one of my friends. He is from England and I am afraid he might not understand the customs here.”

He leant against the desk cocking his head and looking down at his feet awkwardly. “Please,” he begged, “he is different to other men. He is particular and perhaps rather spoilt. I need you to make sure he doesn’t get lost, harmed or too upset. It is pressing that I should return to my wife in Agra. I would have hired Mrs Paraiyars, in fact I did offer this role to her, but I have been informed she will be moving and her English is not as it once was…and my English friend is rather…particular and impatient with broken speech...”

He wrote a signature across the bottom of the document and held it out for you to read. It was real…your mouth watered. You could save more than your regular wage and easily move back to Indore without burdening your father or mother’s family.

“If you accept my offer, you may live here as a free lodging, you recall where the servant quarters are I am sure? You will also receive a handsome budget for food. And-” he paused looking up and pocketing the cheque, he gasped, “Sherlock! Dear god man! Did you walk here from the train station?!”

You turned around in the chair and took in the sight of a familiar looking soul.

He was the gentleman from the road. The supposed businessman with his briefcase. He was taller standing here with you then when you sat above in the ox cart. He was standing in the doorway to the office. He stepped inside and lowered his walking stick and briefcase.

“My friend,” the handsome stranger gleefully called, “My dear John Watson, I came the moment I read your message. One of the khaki coated lads pointed me here.”

Up close now you could observe his features on a better judgement. Sherlock Holmes was well known in the British gazette for his distinct physical appearance. With his broad angular frame, sharp hard features, and mighty frame, he exuded a striking and intimidating aura that commanded respect. He reminded you of warriors you imagined before bed in story's of battles your father described at Jhansi Fort.

His face was marked by a strong, sharp pointed nose and intense, deep-set sapphire eyes. His hair was kept combed and short below his ears short and slicked back, revealing his angular eyebrows, and his pink lips that were tightly pursed. He wore a grand brown suit coat with a crisp white shirt, and woolen sweater vest beneath it. And at the base of his throat was a dark burgundy tie. Something about the time reminded you of blood. A cut throat. You felt cold.

His eyes smoothly shifted to you and your presence, his lips parted softly, he glanced back at John, “A patient of yours Doctor?”

The moustached man bristled and shook his head, he stuttered and leant his hand out to you. you carefully chose to take it and rise from the chair as he introduced you.

“Oh- I- Sherlock…um, Sherlock Holmes, I would like you to meet Miss Y/N Newalkar.”

“Miss Newalkar,” the doctor waved his hand over the figure of the giant stock of a man, “This is the very gentleman I was informing you about. This is my friend Detective Sherlock Holmes.”

You pressed your hands together and nodded in greeting. One of Sherlock’s brows raised and his lips hardened in a straight line.

Doctor Watson explained back to the detective, “I was in the middle of discussing whether this dear lady would like to accept a role of housekeeping during your stay here.”

“Whatever for?” Sherlock snickered, “Is your lady wife not up to par with her duties?” he shoved his hands into his pockets and rocked on his leather shoes while his eyes scanned all the way down to your bare feet. It was a crude look of judgement. The westerner seemed to forget not everyone shared the same styles and habits here. You tried not to roll your eyes at him as he scanned your arms and the parts of your belly that the saree did not cover. Those dark blue orbs crawled up and settled over your faux sweetened smiling face.

“Some…plans have come up unexpectedly. Mary is back in Agra, staying safe with her family,” John stated, his fingers rubbed together, “I need to be with her. And the hospitals are in desire of my services as a surgeon. I ask that you will look around, see if you can find anything here…” he leant in closer and whispered to the man, “I will visit every couple of days, to check up on you and see if there is truth to be founded in my suspicions.”

'Suspicions?'

“John…” the detective pat his friends shoulder, “I am happy to see you. I promise I will do my very best.”

“Thankyou,” said the doctor.

Sherlock jerked his chin to your direction, “How much does the dear girl here know?”

“Well, I…not much,” the doctor blushed and looked back to you, “Miss Newalkar, your thoughts on the job position role?”

You swallowed and nodded slowly, “I accept the conditions, thankyou for your most gracious offering, Doctor Babu.”

The doctor smiled and carefully touched your back, leading you to the exist of his office as he happily stated.

“Splendid! Please, this is the contract. Sign it and return with your belongings later on a few hours while I converse with my friend and guest.”

You looked back at the mysterious Sherlock Holmes and back to the contract. You wobbled your head in goodbye and went on your way. The way you could feel his eyes over your body walking away made you shiver. He was a intimidateding looking man. You left the home and slipped your sandals on.

You thought about how you would now be the housekeeper of a prestigious British family in the community. A wave of relief to your stability washed over you. You didn’t need to crawl to your father and your mother’s family. You started smiling ear to ear. All you needed to do was take care of a house and baby-sit an Englishman who was vulnerable to these new lands.

“Did you see him go in?” Anjuli smirked from the ox cart, waving you over, “The British man you fancied?”

You jerked your chin up proudly exclaiming, “I met him.”

Your friend gasped with a wide smile, “What is he like?”

“I don’t really know,” you shrugged before waving the contract in front of your friends face, “but I am going to be his housekeeper, I need to inform the school of my resignation.”

Anjuli looked at the contract, she couldn't read english but made a light sad sound and sucked her teeth before sighing, “Oh, those children will miss you dearly.”

And that you could both agree. You grabbed the ox reigns and tapped its flank with the cane rolling back to the school again quickly to collect your last wage.

Helplines:

If you are a victim of sexual abuse, assault or domestic violence or know someone who is please reach out to these links that share helpline services, phone numbers or emails. Consent and respect is important in every relationship whether between friends, family or even strangers.

Australian Helpline Services

UK Helpline Services

American Helpline Services

India Helpline Services.

119 notes · View notes

metamatar · 8 months

Text

(btw NYT's anti china hysteria is getting journalists in india arrested)

In August 2023, The New York Times published a story “A Global Web of Chinese Propaganda Leads to a U.S. Tech Mogul”. The story investigated whether Chinese funding was being funnelled to advocacy and media organisations across the world to defend the internal authoritarianism of the Chinese state. One of the countries included was India, with a fleeting reference to an Indian digital news organisation NewsClick, which the report said “sprinkled its coverage with Chinese government talking points”.

The report did not suggest that the organisation had committed any crime – let alone sedition or terrorism against the Indian state. But on October 3, the police in Delhi swooped down on the homes of 46 people connected to NewsClick – journalists, staffers, contributors, including academics, historians, satirists – seizing their phones and laptops, subjecting them to hours of questioning, largely about their coverage of protests by farmers and by Muslim women. NewsClick’s founder and editor-in-chief Prabir Purakayastha and the head of the human resources department Amit Chakraborty were arrested under the draconian anti-terror law, the Unlawful Activities Prevention Act.

When asked about the police action, anonymous government officials invoked the New York Times article. Indian TV channels – nearly all of which are propaganda channels for the Modi regime – used the NYT story to frame the issue as a question of whether “press freedom” should be respected at the cost of “national sovereignty”.

[...] The NYT story has become a pretext to escalate an ongoing campaign to persecute and imprison some of India’s most courageous journalists, academics and activists on baseless charges of abetting “Maoist terrorism”. [...] NYT’s failure to separate specific issues of financial impropriety, propaganda, and political opinion from each other, I feared, would endanger the courageous work of journalists associated with NewsClick: for example, investigations into the financial scandals involving Gautam Adani, the tycoon who is known to be a close associate of the Indian Prime Minister. [...] The story had mentioned several media platforms (a YouTube channel in the US for instance) without identifying these by name, but had chosen to name NewsClick. It had cherry-picked an inoffensive and rather lame line from a NewsClick video and presented this as evidence of pro-China propaganda: “China’s history continues to inspire the working classes.” I pointed out that this is a simple statement of opinion, and cannot be construed as Chinese government propaganda.

Left-wing softness on China or Russia might harm Uyghurs or Ukrainians, and the political health of the Left itself, but this was hardly a problem for the Modi regime.

#india

73 notes · View notes

icebearfromnorthpole · 1 year

Text

Phewww!! The Kerala story has definitely got potential to trigger some people!! So here is all i got to say !!

It is just a MOVIE guys! Just a movie, which highlights the particular incidents of girls being manipulated to join terrorist organisations from Kerala! And yes shouldn’t we talk about it!? But the problem is that we are only talking about the film and not what the core messaging of film is!!

It targets muslims!? Yeah probably because the main antagonist was one! I mean are u that dumb!? Can’t u see it targets the society, the parents of the girls who could not make her confident enough to speak about what wrong has been done to her and rather went on to believing ki wearing hijab would save them!! Why could not the society make her believe that if she shouts and ask for help they won’t judge her, rather the wrong doer would be punished!?

More than the propaganda and all, y don’t we realise it also talks about what all they have suffered!?

Ye agar ek bhi ladki k saath hua tha , to film ban ni chahiye thi, akhbar m articles chhapne chahiye the, kitabein likhi jani chahiye thi! Didn’t we do the same for NEERJA !? Ek hi to jaan gyi thi!? Fir bhi baat hui thi na!?

And yes a lot such projects have already been made

Article 15 ( antagonist non muslim)

No one killed jessica ( antagonist non muslim)

Delhi crime ( antagonist non muslims)

To bhai esi movies/ series to hmesha se banti aai hain! Jo gunhegaar hoga uski ko tehraya jayega na!?

Why is it such hauwa this time!??

Yes, forced conversions were done! Girls were made victims by muslims in this particular incident! Kya ye baat galat hai!? Nahi!!

Kya ISIS hindu chalate hain!? Nahi !! Its full form is ISLAMIC state of iran and syria!!

Yahan gunhegaar musalman they, ek islamic kattar wadi ideology thi to thi!! Y take it against all!? Mujhe nhi pata !! Apki kam budhi pr mujhe taras ata hai!!

Rather than sympathising with victims and promising to never let it happen again, we are fighting again!! Wohoooo!! Pata nhi kisne itni samjhdari se shadiyantra racha , but kamyaab hua!!

Take the learnings:

Ese hi kisi ki bhi baton mein mat aya kro , do ur own homework

Speak against anyone who is wrong be it HINDU,MUSALMAN,SIKH,ISAI etc etc.

Ab bhi kisi ko mujhe ISLAMOPHOBIC kehna hai, to apka swagat hai!!🙃😙👍🏻

#the Kerala story

28 notes · View notes

aleenapaulsposts · 9 months

Text

ALEENA PAUL || NEW DELHI INDIA

AWARENESS BLOGGER.41

HUMAN RIGHTS MATTER

Albert Einstein said

The world will not be destroyed by those who do evil but by those who watch them without doing any thing.

In my opinion bystander not consider as a guilty but coward who ignore the crime

ALEENA PAUL || NEW DELHI ,INDIA _published 9 sep 2023

I am just a consciousness raising women and i want to tell my story because we matter our voice matter.

Have you seen this image ever before ? If ‘No’ then its right time to describes about this image .its seems like I am going to describe about a such type if crime which happens in every day in our life this is not just about our country but a serious issue around the world .

I don’t know what you call this crime but I call it coward bystander .

You know what people fear the most ?yes .its ‘FEAR’ and that’s make a person coward.

Today we will discuss about very important issue which you call as bystander which known as crime but not crime in law

Have you hared about a very popular crime murder case which was happened in 1964 in newyork city the bystander effect following the violent attack and murder of a women name ‘cathedral kitty genovese’. This crime occurred over 30 minutes. During this time 38 neighbors heard kitty cries for help .but no one helped her or call the police so shameful incident . she attempted to save her own call was made to the police but it was dismissed as a domestic dispute all though the incident become globally famous. Image of news published in 1964.

Simpler to this case one more incident was done by a boy called sahil in metropolitan city delhi , INDIA on March 2023 ‘nikki murder case’ .which gone very viral.

In this case sahil who was prime suspected for his girl friend nikki murder case .which was cord in cctv camera which visible very clearly in cctv camera the boy nihal stabbed 21 times then battered with boulder. Public cought in cctv camera delhi girl killed as people walk by .

The girl suffered a ruptured skull during the attack according to the preliminary final post mortem report .scenes captured by cctv camera in a lane located in the shahbad diary area of delhi rohini.

Now my intention was not to discuss about such crime murder case but a small alert related such crimes .a topic which happen every day life in entire world a globle problem which every one ignore .known as bystander.

Before we discusses about this topic can I ask you a question?

What type of personality you are upstander or bystander?

If you are any of these plz comment .

BYSTANDER

Some one who sees or know about bullying or any crime but takes no action to address it or report it.simply who sees the crime happening but simply ignore or wrought take responsibility or simply ignore may be he/she don’t know how to handle this.

Eg – shy , fain-hearted , coward etc

UPSTANDER

Someone who recognises when something is wrong and act to make it right.

Eg – honest , faithful , brave and supporter etc.

We are upstander and want to create a campus environment where every members of our community feels included , valued and safe.

We all play a critical role in identifying situation that have a potential for harm and intervening it something dons’t look or feet quite right.

Don’t just be a step and protect people who need help your action could prevent some one from becoming a victim of any crime.

🟥 Be aware of event around you

🟥 take responsibility for the well-being of everyone in the community.

🟥 step in help others

🟥 step indirectly and separate the person

🟥 use distraction to re – direct the forces of one person elsewhere

🟥 let some friends know what going on and recruit them help

🟥 if the situation looks like unsafe call the police department or ngo for help .

Watching but doing nothing (bystander)

🟧 effect occurs from interdependence between group of people .

🟧 people in a group may expect someone else to help which relieves them from any type of responsibility to take in action.

🟧 if know one help still the blame for in action applies to everyone in the group.

🟧people may feel a shared responsibility where in a larger group so individual may not take action because they feel less responsibility when other are present.

🟧 fear of unfavourable judgement.

🟧 pluralistic ignorance is a thought that how will we do .if no body else is taking action bystander will think it is not a emergency situation and it is not my problem.

🟧 passive supporter who witness the incident but do nothing to interface.

How can we encourage bystander to get support to bullying victim?

Now the good samaritan law was introduced in india .to provide legal frame work to motivate and encourage the bystander to offer aid to the victims with out any fear of legal hassles.good samaritan who make a phone call to inform the police or emergency service .for the person lying injured on the road .shall not be compelled to reveal his name and personal detail .government of india provide cash who saves lives in road accident by those who saves lives in road accident by taking them to hospital within the golden hours. The amount of good samaritan is 5000/-rs per accident. The scheme will remain will remain operational the completion of the 15th financial cycle till 31st March,2026. One of the historic figures was mahatama gandhi ,nelson mardela and martin luttor.

Who are upstander and what they do? UPSTANDER are community members who provide acknowledgement , understanding and support for neighbours facing challenges as a result of hateful acts , natural disasters , violence or interference that threaten the integrity of their community.

12 notes · View notes

bipdf · 6 days

Note

Uhmm... How did you find out that you are bi? I am currently questioning my sexuality but I am unsure how do I do it

i think it was summer of 2011, and i was in delhi at that time enjoying my summer holidays. i met a woman twice my age (i was barely 10 💀) in the hotel i was staying. she was this really beautiful and elegant young lady i had ever seen back then. my first thought when i saw her was, "i want to kiss her lips and neck." of course, i felt a little odd feeling this way. i was confused and scared that i was committing a crime by having such thoughts about a woman. fast forward to a few years, i'm in sixth grade now. i developed a crush on my bestie when she was trying to console me as i was crying for getting bullied. we were sitting so close to each other, and she had her arms around me. trust me, there was this almost tangible electric energy between us, which she must have surely felt as well. i got a feeling that we'd kiss, but we didn't. i was confirmed that i'm different, i'm attracted to girls like how boys are to them. well, long story short, i came out to my friends as bisexual when i was in tenth grade.

if you're unsure about your sexuality, i'd suggest you to experiment a little. go on dates, get a bit freaky and come to conclusions about your sexuality. if you're still lost and confused, it's totally fine. you don't need any labels to do something or love someone, anyway. love is love, love.

#happy pride 🌈

2 notes · View notes

lingshanhermit · 2 months

Text

Lingshan Hermit: Is It the Buddha or the Devil Awakening?

In a society like India with a thousands-of-years tradition of revering ascetics, why have so many rape cases recently erupted? To the point that the whole world now discusses India's dark turn. I have been asked such questions before.

Regarding the rape incidents in India, I previously watched an Indian TV drama called "Delhi Crime" I believe. In Delhi Crime Season 2, it depicted a tragic story - a woman murdered an entire family of her client through cruel means. This murderous woman was from the lower echelons of Indian society. Working at a small Delhi beauty parlor, she had the opportunity to interact with wealthy clients coming for treatments. There was an elderly rich regular client who loved her massage technique, always requesting her service. Perhaps because the massages were too long and boring, the two began chatting, and she started sharing her own story. The rich old lady seemed sympathetic after hearing it, wanting to help, often telling her that once she found a suitable place, she could assist in opening her own parlor. Such irresponsible words made her mistakenly believe they had a friendship, mistakenly thinking this woman was a benefactor in her life. But later, that person did not fulfill her promise. She seriously started looking for a place, and when she found a suitable one and brought it up, the old lady was dumbfounded (likely not even remembering saying such things), advising her to just work hard instead of fantasizing about impractical things daily. Her life hopes were shattered, she felt cheated and started hating this world. One night after, she and some acquaintance friends broke into that rich woman's gated community, brutally killing her entire family, not even sparing guests at their home. She also stole and sold many of the woman's valuables. This woman had a husband and children, but had long run away from home, never returning after leaving. A restless soul, she felt she should not live in poverty, should not be stuck in an obscure village - feeling the heavens treated her unjustly, so she left her hometown for Delhi, determined to use her own strength to forcefully attain happiness. (Many modern scholars and intellectuals see this as female awakening, but if such an "awakening" only brings disaster, then it is merely the devil awakening.) But this forced pursuit of happiness only ended up bringing immense disaster to herself and others.

For thousands of years, Indian society has relatively been a place of peace, with most Indians docile and content under the strict caste system, the higher and lower castes largely coexisting peacefully for most of the time. But now the situation has completely changed. In the past decade or so, Indian society has frequently seen negative rape news emerging. Many view India as a no-go zone for female travelers, but few understand why the peaceful, fatalistic Indians of the past thousands of years have suddenly turned into fearsome criminals. From what I can see, there are many reasons, including the large-scale invasion of inexpensive smartphones into Indian society, the popularity of films like "Dangal" and "Lipstick Under My Burkha," the proliferation of pornographic videos - these have all played an undeniable role in rewriting Indians' mindsets and ways of thinking. Unlike a century ago, today's Indians can see others' lives daily on TikTok, see scantily clad women dancing, see celebrity parties. When you see someone else's drink costs more than your income for several years, few remain unmoved. The internet also has many teaching how to become wealthier, how to turn others' money into your own. Consuming such content frequently, even decent practitioners would be influenced, let alone ordinary people whose faith is far more fragile. Previously you could only see neighbors' lives, but mobile internet's proliferation gives you the chance to see lives and value systems worldwide. You see many living completely differently - expressive individualists, stopping at nothing, yet seemingly living well. This causes values you previously upheld to start crumbling. Slowly, you go from being contented and honest to restless and anxious; the devil within awakens, your desires activate, you start feeling you should not live this way, that you could actually live much better. But changing your destiny is extremely difficult, as it means creating immense good karma short-term, impossible for ordinary people. For them, the only way is crime, making deals with the devil. Inexpensive smartphones made going online extremely convenient, enveloping us in all sorts of information daily, gradually replacing traditional mindsets with so-called modern thinking. Traditional culture is vanishing, more in Indian society have their minds filled with new thinking, the gates holding their desires thus opened. Shy low-caste youths who used to blush at words have become rapists; women previously devoted to husbands and children have become willing to kill to open parlors. India's traditional culture is being slaughtered through various means, and its death's consequence is more people having desires unleashed. Meaning everyone starts becoming dissatisfied with their lot, coveting things not theirs, finding ways to divide others' wealth, making life increasingly perilous. But such things are not just happening in Indian society - nearly every culture and ethnic group worldwide is experiencing similar situations. No matter where you are, you will be deeply impacted.

Originally posted on April 6, 2024.

Copyright Notice：All copyrights of Ling Shan Hermit's articles in Simplified and Traditional Chinese, English, and other languages belong to the natural person who owns "Ling Shan Hermit". Please respect copyright. Publishers, media, or individuals (including but not limited to internet media, websites, personal spaces, Weibo, WeChat public accounts, print media) must obtain authorization from Ling Shan Hermit before use. No modifications to the articles are allowed (including: author's name, title, main text content, and punctuation marks). We reserve all legal rights.

灵山居士：��醒的是佛还是魔

2 notes · View notes

lazypotato10 · 5 months

Text

Mughal India - The biggest holocaust in world history

The world is all ears to the sob stories of Muslims. There is sympathy for their plight, there are worldwide protests and rampant Hinduphobia in the media if their interests are even slightly threatened and oftentimes, its the Muslims who are suffering the retribution over something which they instigated in the first place and then the blame game begins and the Hindus are held accountable for retaliation and being intolerant to the atrocious nature of this so called 'peaceful minority'.

The genocide suffered by the Hindus of India at the hands of Arab, Turkish, Mughal and Afghan occupying forces for a period of 800 years is as yet formally unrecognized by the world.

With the invasion of India by Mahmud Ghazni about 1000 A.D., began the Muslim invasions into the Indian subcontinent and they lasted for several centuries. Nadir Shah made a mountain of the skulls of the Hindus he killed in Delhi alone. Babur raised towers of Hindu skulls at Khanua when he defeated Rana Sanga in 1527 and later he repeated the same horrors after capturing the fort of Chanderi. Akbar ordered a general massacre of 30,000 Rajputs after he captured Chittorgarh in 1568. The Bahamani Sultans had an annual agenda of killing a minimum of 100,000 Hindus every year.

The history of medieval India is full of such instances. The holocaust of the Hindus in India continued for 800 years, till the brutal regimes were effectively overpowered in a life and death struggle by the Sikhs in Punjab and the Hindu Maratha armies in other parts of India in the late 1700’s.

We have elaborate literary evidence of the world’s biggest holocaust from existing historical contemporary eyewitness accounts. The historians and biographers of the invading armies and subsequent rulers of India have left quite detailed records of the atrocities they committed in their day-to-day encounters with India’s Hindus.

These contemporary records boasted about and glorified the crimes that were committed and the genocide of tens of millions of Hindus, Sikhs, Buddhists and Jains, mass rapes of women and the destruction of thousands of ancient Hindu/Buddhist temples and libraries have been well documented and provide solid proof of the world’s biggest holocaust.

**Quotes from modern historians**

Dr. Koenraad Elst in his article “Was There an Islamic Genocide of Hindus?” states:

“There is no official estimate of the total death toll of Hindus at the hands of Islam. A first glance at important testimonies by Muslim chroniclers suggests that over 13 centuries and a territory as vast as the subcontinent, Muslim holy warriors easily killed more Hindus than the 6 million of the holocaust. Ferishtha lists several occasions when the Bahmani sultans in central India (1347-1528) killed a hundred thousand Hindus, which they set as a minimum goal whenever they felt like punishing the Hindus; and they were only a third-rank provincial dynasty.

The biggest slaughters took place during the raids of Mahmud Ghaznavi (ca. 1000 CE) during the actual conquest of North India by Mohammed Ghori and his lieutenants (1192 ff.) and under the Delhi Sultanate (1206-1526).“

He also writes in his book “Negation in India”:

“The Muslim conquests, down to the 16th century, were for the Hindus a pure struggle of life and death. Entire cities were burnt down and the populations massacred, with hundreds of thousands killed in every campaign, and similar numbers deported as slaves. Every new invader made (often literally) his hills of Hindus skulls. Thus, the conquest of Afghanistan in the year 1000 was followed by the annihilation of the Hindu population; the region is still called the Hindu Kush, i.e. Hindu slaughter.”

Will Durant argued in his 1935 book “The Story of Civilisation: Our Oriental Heritage” (page 459):

“The Mohammedan conquest of India is probably the bloodiest story in history. The Islamic historians and scholars have recorded with great glee and pride the slaughters of Hindus, forced conversions, abduction of Hindu women and children to slave markets and the destruction of temples carried out by the warriors of Islam during 800 AD to 1700 AD. Millions of Hindus were converted to Islam by sword during this period.”

Francois Gautier in his book ‘Rewriting Indian History’ (1996) wrote:

“The massacres perpetuated by Muslims in India are unparalleled in history, bigger than the holocaust of the Jews by the Nazis, or the massacre of the Armenians by the Turks, more extensive even than the slaughter of the South American native populations by the invading Spanish and Portuguese.”

Alain Danielou in his book, Histoire de l’ Inde writes:

“From the time Muslims started arriving, around 632 AD, the history of India becomes a long, monotonous series of murders, massacres, spoliations, and destructions. It is, as usual, in the name of ‘a holy war’ of their faith, of their sole God, that the barbarians have destroyed civilizations, wiped out entire races.”

Irfan Husain in his article “Demons from the Past” observes:

“While historical events should be judged in the context of their times, it cannot be denied that even in that bloody period of history, no mercy was shown to the Hindus unfortunate enough to be in the path of either the Arab conquerors of Sindh and south Punjab or the Central Asians who swept in from Afghanistan. The Muslim heroes who figure larger than life in our history books committed some dreadful crimes. Mahmud of Ghazni, Qutb-ud-Din Aibak, Balban, Mohammed bin Qasim, and Sultan Mohammad Tughlak, all have blood-stained hands that the passage of years has not cleansed. Seen through Hindu eyes, the Muslim invasion of their homeland was an unmitigated disaster.

“Their temples were razed, their idols smashed, their women raped, their men killed or taken slaves. When Mahmud of Ghazni entered Somnath on one of his annual raids, he slaughtered all 50,000 inhabitants. Aibak killed and enslaved hundreds of thousands. The list of horrors is long and painful. These conquerors justified their deeds by claiming it was their religious duty to smite non-believers. Cloaking themselves in the banner of Islam, they claimed they were fighting for their faith when, in reality, they were indulging in straightforward slaughter and pillage…”

A sample of contemporary eyewitness accounts of the invaders and rulers, during the Indian conquests

The Afghan ruler Mahmud al-Ghazni invaded India no less than seventeen times between 1001 – 1026 AD. The book ‘Tarikh-i-Yamini’ – written by his secretary documents several episodes of his bloody military campaigns: “The blood of the infidels flowed so copiously at the Indian city of Thanesar that the stream was discolored, notwithstanding its purity, and people were unable to drink it. The infidels deserted the fort and tried to cross the foaming river but many of them were slain, taken or drowned. Nearly fifty thousand men were killed.”

In the contemporary record – ‘ Taj-ul-Ma’asir’ by Hassn Nizam-i-Naishapuri, it is stated that when Qutb-ul- Din Aibak (of Turko – Afghan origin and the First Sultan of Delhi 1194 – 1210 AD) conquered Meerut, he demolished all the Hindu temples of the city and erected mosques on their sites. In the city of Aligarh, he converted Hindu inhabitants to Islam by the sword and beheaded all those who adhered to their own religion.

The Persian historian Wassaf writes in his book ‘Tazjiyat-ul-Amsar wa Tajriyat ul Asar’ that when the Alaul-Din Khilji (an Afghan of Turkish origin and second ruler of the Khilji Dynasty in India 1295-1316 AD) captured the city of Kambayat at the head of the Gulf of Cambay, he killed the adult male Hindu inhabitants for the glory of Islam, set flowing rivers of blood, sent the women of the country with all their gold, silver, and jewels, to his own home, and made about twenty thousand Hindu maidens his private slaves.

This ruler once asked his spiritual advisor (or ‘Qazi’) as to what was the Islamic law prescribed for the Hindus. The Qazi replied:

*“Hindus are like the mud, if silver is demanded from them, they must with the greatest humility offer gold. If a Mohammadan desires to spit into a Hindu’s mouth, the Hindu should open it wide for the purpose. God created the Hindus to be slaves of the Mohammadans. The Prophet hath ordained that, if the Hindus do not accept Islam, they should be imprisoned, tortured, finally put to death, and their property confiscated.”*

Timur was a Turkic conqueror and founder of the Timurid Dynasty. Timur’s Indian campaign (1398 – 1399 AD) was recorded in his memoirs, collectively known as ‘Tuzk-i-Timuri.’ In them, he vividly described probably the greatest gruesome act in the entire history of the world – where 100,000 Hindu prisoners of war in his camp were executed in a very short space of time. Timur after taking advice from his entourage says in his memoirs :

*“they said that on the great day of battle these 100,000 prisoners could not be left with the baggage and that it would be entirely opposed to the rules of war to set these idolaters and foes of Islam at liberty."*

*“In fact, no other course remained but that of making them all food for the sword"*

Timur thereupon resolved to put them to death. He proclaimed :

*“throughout the camp that every man who has infidel prisoners was to put them to death, and whoever neglected to do so should himself be executed and his property given to the informer. When this order became known to the ghazis of Islam, they drew their swords and put their prisoners to death. 100,000 infidels, impious idolaters, were on that day slain. Maulana Nasir-ud-din Umar, a counselor and a man of learning, who, in all his life had never killed a sparrow, now, in execution of my order, slew with his sword fifteen idolatrous Hindus, who were his captives“.*

During his campaign in India – Timur describes the scene when his army conquered the Indian city of Delhi :

*“In a short space of time all the people in the Delhi fort were put to the sword, and in the course of one hour, the heads of 10,000 infidels were cut off. The sword of Islam was washed in the blood of the infidels, and all the goods and effects, the treasure and the grain which for many a long year had been stored in the fort became the spoil of my soldiers.*

*“They set fire to the houses and reduced them to ashes, and they razed the buildings and the fort to the ground. All these infidel Hindus were slain, their women and children, and their property and goods became the spoil of the victors. I proclaimed throughout the camp that every man who had infidel prisoners should put them to death, and whoever neglected to do so should himself be executed and his property given to the informer. When this order became known to the ghazis of Islam, they drew their swords and put their prisoners to death.”*

The Mughal emperor Babur (who ruled India from 1526 -1530 AD) writing in his memoirs called the ‘Baburnama’ – wrote: ” In AH 934 (2538 C.E.) I attacked Chanderi and by the grace of Allah captured it in a few hours. We got the infidels slaughtered and the place which had been Daru’l-Harb (nation of non-muslims) for years was made into a Daru’l-Islam (a Muslim nation).”

In Babur’s own words in a poem about killing Hindus (From the ‘Baburnama’ ), he wrote :

*“For the sake of Islam, I became a wanderer, I battled infidels and Hindus, I determined to become a martyr. Thank God I became a killer of Non-Muslims!”*

The atrocities of the Mughal ruler Shah Jahan (who ruled India between 1628 – 1658 AD) are mentioned in the contemporary record called: ‘Badshah Nama, Qazinivi & Badshah Nama, Lahori’ and goes on to state: “When Shuja was appointed as governor of Kabul he carried on a ruthless war in the Hindu territory beyond Indus…The sword of Islam yielded a rich crop of converts. Most of the women (to save their honor) burnt themselves to death. Those captured were distributed among Muslim Mansabdars (Noblemen)”

The Afghan ruler Ahmad Shah Abdali attacked India in 1757 AD and made his way to the holy Hindu city of Mathura, the Bethlehem of the Hindus and birthplace of Krishna.

The atrocities that followed are recorded in the contemporary chronicle called: ‘Tarikh-I-Alamgiri’ :

*“Abdali’s soldiers would be paid 5 Rupees (a sizeable amount at the time) for every enemy head brought in. Every horseman had loaded up all his horses with the plundered property, and atop of it rode the girl-captives and the slaves. The severed heads were tied up in rugs like bundles of grain and placed on the heads of the captives. Then the heads were stuck upon lances and taken to the gate of the chief minister for payment.*

*“It was an extraordinary display! Daily did this manner of slaughter and plundering proceed. And at night the shrieks of the women captives who were being raped deafened the ears of the people. All those heads that had been cut off were built into pillars, and the captive men upon whose heads those bloody bundles had been brought in, were made to grind corn, and then their heads too were cut off. These things went on all the way to the city of Agra, nor was any part of the country spared.”*

Banda Singh Bahadur was tortured to death after being imprisoned for 3 months. The heart of Banda Singh’s son was put in his mouth in an attempt to humiliate him

Why we should remember?

The biggest holocaust in world history has been whitewashed from history.

When we hear the word 'holocaust', most of us think immediately of the Jewish holocaust. Today, with increased awareness and countless cinema films and television documentaries, many of us are also aware of the holocaust of the Native American people, the genocide of the Armenian people in the Ottoman Empire, and the millions of African lives lost during the Atlantic slave trade.

Europe and America produced at least a few thousand films highlighting the human misery caused by Hitler and his army. The films expose the horrors of the Nazi regime and reinforce the beliefs and attitude of the present day generation towards the evils of the Nazi dictatorship.

In contrast, look at India. There is hardly any awareness among the Indians of today of what happened to their ancestors in the past because a great majority of historians are reluctant to touch this sensitive subject.

**The world seems to either ignore or just does not seem to care about the many millions of lives lost during the 800 years long holocaust of Hindus, Sikhs, and Buddhists in India.**

The Indian historian Professor K.S. Lal estimates that the Hindu population in India decreased by 80 million between 1000 AD and 1525 AD, an extermination unparalleled in world history. This slaughter of millions of people occurred over regular periods during many centuries of Arab, Afghan, Turkish and Mughal rule in India.

Many Indian heroes emerged during these dark times, including the 10th Sikh Guru – Guru Gobind Singh and also the Hindu Maratha king – Shivaji Maharaj, who led the resistance against this tyranny and eventually led to its defeat by the late 1700s after centuries of death and destruction.

The modern world today is facing a global threat from organizations and groups of terrorists such as ISIS, Taliban, and Al-Qaeda whose ideology is chillingly similar to that of the perpetrators of the world’s biggest holocaust in India.

Let us hope that the bloody lessons of the past are learned so that history does not even have the remotest chance of repeating itself.

Never forgive. Never forget. Rise up.

#hindublr #So i wrote this before but then I had to deactivate my account but all my posts were deleted as well 😭😭#I DID NOT WRITE THIS #I just came across this whole thing on reddit #The credit for the whole thing should go to the person who spent their time and energy on this and that person is NOT me #Just wanted to clear it up

2 notes · View notes