#Thought for the Day in Marathi

[pavitrsgf]

“Say you’ll stay, never be severed”

➤ pairing: pavitr prabhakar x reader

➤ warnings: fem reader sorry ;(, my grammar isn’t the greatest + not proofread lol, no use of y/n. there are some marathi words also translations may not be right: bhau is like bro, shonu means like pure gold/god gift, mūrkha means foolish/stupid, sakhya means companion

➤ synopsis: word vomit about a fluff friends2lovers w pavitr, he also tells you about being spiderman

➤ w.c: 3,159

Your page filled with meaningless doodles as the teacher droned on in front of you, your mind not entirely focused on the present. Seated beside you was your best friend since before you could even remember, Pavitr Prabhakar.

You’d known him for so long, you don’t think you remember a single memory where he wasn’t with you. Whether it be him physically there or his voice, he’s there. Like when your first (serious) heartbreak happened during your pre-adolescence time, you had called him over immediately and he was there to comfort you. He had dropped everything to help you, his soft whispers in your ear that you “deserved better than him”, calling him many colourful words in a (successful) attempt to make you laugh. Your reminiscing session comes to a short end as you hear Pavitr’s bored tapping on the desk, his eyes nothing short of unamused as the teacher says words that go through one ear and out the other.

His tapping creates a nice rhythm that soon becomes a little too repetitive to you, so your solution is to grab and hold his hand gently to stop it. His hand feels warm against yours, his palm slightly rough from working hard. You play with his hand, moving it around, preferring to observe him than listen to whatever your teacher says. Your fingers travel along his hand, tracing his knuckles and playing around with them, comparing hands and accidentally cracking a few of his knuckles by your roughness. His giggles when you do make you smile, he tries to keep it down, but the smile is evident on his face as he copies down notes. He looks unbothered, but comfortable with your presence.

Meanwhile, unbeknownst to you, he was trying so, so hard to not confess to you right then and there.

Pavitr was naturally perceptive, he was very good at reading people and observed them easily. Yet, he couldn’t tell if you liked him. Sometimes, you would do all these things that couples do like sitting on his lap, intertwining your hand with his, walking so close that your shoulders brush his with each step, laughing so hard at an unfunny joke he made, making him believe that he might have a chance, but then you would switch up and call him something like “bhau” that makes him backtrack in all his theories that you may like him back. He prided himself on knowing you well, of being observant yet he couldn’t figure out your feelings for him. Either way, he felt flustered when you would initiate physical affection, like now. As he finished his notes with one free hand, he looked over to your figure that was focused entirely on his hand. It felt oddly intimate, considering the mundaneness of the action.

You looked so endearing, a few strands of hair fell forward into your eyes, he loved merely watching you and seeing your beauty. Your eyes that held your emotions, the bridge of your nose that he wanted to trace over and over—

His thoughts are disrupted as a bell signals the end of the day and your eyes snap forward as you realize how long you had zoned out, just holding his hand. You and Pavitr speed up to collect your belongings and get out of class as fast as possible.

As you walk out together, Pavitr’s mind isn’t truly with you. His thoughts focus solely on how close you are, your shoulders touch and your hands are tightly linked together. A small smile on his face as he accepts every small affection you give towards him and his memory fades to the first time he realized how in love with you he was.

It was winter, you and him bundled up in heavy and weighted blankets on his bed as you watched silly movies and laughed at them. You were focused on laughing at the bad CGI and unrealistic physics, smiling with teeth and making sure Pavitr was looking.

His arm was behind your neck, serving as a small pillow for you and your warmth radiated to him. It was as if winter didn’t exist and he let himself be lost in you. Your nose scrunches up at the inaccuracy in the movie as you remark something else that the director probably exaggerated, explaining how it wouldn’t work out in real life. He looks at your lips as they move and realize how much he just wants to kiss them.

“—so stupid. Like, how hard is it to search something up?” You exclaim, your hands moving as you talk. He chuckles at your enthusiasm and he thinks about how much he loves every part of you. Every single nook and cranny of yours, he wants to explore. He wants to know what you’re thinking right now as you’ve gone silent while still glaring at the screen in front of you. He wants to spend every second of his future by your side. He then realizes, that’s how he has felt his whole life. He’s wanted to be yours, to be the one to hold your heart and keep it safe, he wanted you to be his. Protect you and love you, that’s all he’s wanted to do since he had the ability to comprehend emotions. He has a dazed, but fading smile as he thinks of possible consequences for his feelings while you continue watching.

Your voice brings him back to reality and you’re alarmingly close to parting ways as your house is in view and he panics, he always seems to have a hard time separating from you. Though, it’s inevitable and he knows it.

“Bye, Pav.” Your voice sounds soft and your hands linger as if you don’t want to leave either and for a second, he lets himself believe you like him back. For merely a second.

He smiles back, and reluctantly begins to say his farewells when you continue speaking, “Do you wanna come in?” you have a hopeful smile and eyes filled with happiness and how could he ever refuse you?

You two walk by the kitchen, up your stairs and into your bedroom. You hadn’t actually planned on doing anything with Pavitr when you invited him in so you started on some of your homework, knowing you’d be content just knowing he was around you.

He gets comfortable on your bed beside you, scrolling on his phone instead as he usually preferred to finish his homework during class.

A few hours pass and you’d changed from doing homework to braiding your best friend’s hair as you two watch some indie film to pass the time together. Your hands repeat the motion of putting part over another, it’s almost therapeutic for the both of you.

Pavitr always loved when you braided or played with his hair, it was always calming to him and he was so, so close to sleep when his spidey senses went off, alerting him there was a threat in Mumbattan.

He tensed up, coming up with a quick lie to tell you, eventually ending up with, “Sorry, shonu, Maya Auntie needs me,” he holds up his phone and pretends to be shocked at the non-existent message.

You’re disappointed, you wanted to spend more time with him, but you know you can’t spend every second with him. “Tell her I said hi,” you smile and he smiles back, grabbing his things quickly before rushing down the stairs and to his house to get his suit.

Pavitr is positively panicking. After he had gone to his house, after he had left you, that villain wanna-be decided to try and defeat Spiderman instead of just focusing on his rather unsuccessful robbing. The random villain had terrible coordination, but forceful hits. He wasn’t winning by any means, no one could beat Spiderman, but Pavitr would probably gain a few nasty scratches and bruises from the fight. His webs shooting out and trying to capture him while also evading more swings at him.

As he stepped on the edge of a roof, the part he stood on had cracked and for a split-second, his spidey senses went off, but he couldn’t turn around in time and had gotten pushed into the wall, scratches littered across his body.

Feeling fed up with how much the fight had dragged on, he quickly captured the villain and once he knew the police were there and would take care of anything, he tried to swing back home. Unfortunately, his torso and arms then prevented him from doing so and he let out a small curse as he knew he was too far from his house to try walking there, every part of him hurt. His luscious hair was slightly dishevelled and heavily matted with blood and debris scattered everywhere. He looked around in the cold night, looking for somewhere he could rest for the night. His eyes moved around before catching sight of your house, he figured it wouldn’t be too weird going into your bedroom as Spiderman. He failed to remember how weird it would be to have a vigilante show up at your house, injured. Also that he hadn’t told you he was Spiderman yet.

You were laying in bed, ears filled with the quiet sound of your music in your room. A slight expression of despair was painted on your face, you’d texted Pavitr earlier in the day. He hadn’t responded and was leaving you on delivered for a few hours, leading you to think the worst. Your overthinking may have taken control, anything logical or reasonable was thrown out the window.

Speaking of which, a singular knock sounded at it. Your face twisted in confusion, who would knock at this time of night?

You checked your phone for any message indicating someone you might know was at your window and slowly creeped towards it. As you didn’t find any messages from your friends, you became suspicious until you looked at who was outside.

Spiderman. Spiderman was outside your goddamn bedroom window.

It took you a moment to process it was him, a million questions running through your brain like why was he there, what does he want from you, before you realized that it’d probably be a little rude to be leaving him in the cold, alone. You hastily unlocked the window and moved out the way to help him in.

As he clumsily climbed into your window, he looked around. Pavitr always loved being in your room, anything relating to you he enjoyed, really. He then remembered, in this moment, he wasn’t Pavitr to you. He was Spiderman. He looked at you awkwardly, trying to figure out what your shocked expression meant as well as what to say to justify being in your bedroom.

You stared right back at him, eyes wide and lips parted slightly in surprised. You didn’t know what to say, so you observed him instead which is when you saw the state of his hair, messy and blood tangled within. You had also noticed the rips in his torso and the dried blood and debris around it.

You and him spoke at the same time, “So,”

“I’m-” He was about to apologize, it felt rude not to do so.

You smiled awkwardly and were about to let him continue, since you know, he’s spiderman, but he insisted you go first. He seemed very respectful. “Do you, uh,” You started speaking, trying to figure out how to articulate the thoughts in your foggy brain. “Need help cleaning up?” you suggested.

Spiderman immediately began shaking his head, he already felt bad for imposing like this, he couldn’t ask for more of your kindness. He smiled and responded, “No thank you, sakhya,” You raise your brow at that, “it’ll heal in the morning.” He wasn’t wrong, but wasn’t entirely right. It’d probably heal, just not very well without proper care, but he supposed it wouldn’t be too bad.

You were stubborn, though. You couldn’t just let Spiderman bleed without doing anything, so you just shook your head and told him so, “I can’t let you just bleed and get an infection or whatever. That’s mūrkha,” He started to protest and you shushed him, immediately telling him to sit on your bed as you went to your bathroom to get some medical supplies.

Pavitr sat on the very edge of the bed. Although he’d been in your bed countless of times, in more comfortable situations, he felt weird about doing that as Spiderman. He again looked at your room like he’d never been in it before, looking at the photos of you and him strung up everywhere. Your room was decorated with the idea to make your personality shine though, he knew that was true especially because of that one deep talk on that random autumn night. He thought it was nice.

Soon, you came back with probably more medical care than he needed. Still, it never hurt to be overprepared with this kind of thing. You didn’t know where to start, his injuries seemed overwhelming and every single one seemed worse than the other.

You decided on doing the ones on his torso first, his mask was slightly ripped and although you wanted to badly fix the injuries on his face, fix his hair, he probably kept his identity a secret for a reason.

He leaned back as you started gently dabbing some vaseline on his torso, he flinched at the feeling. You felt oddly close to him in the moment, feeling familiar with him as if you had known him for years, though you’d never had an interaction with him before this. Merely watching news on him, admiring him.

You put some more ointment and then gauze on the more serious injuries, wrapping around his waist tightly which caused him to wince and you to whisper a small sorry, before you continued with helping him clean up. You grabbed some bandaids, seeing some small scratches on his arm and put some ointment on before sticking a bandaid on top. Gently patting it just to make sure it stayed, the real reason was you just wanted an excuse to touch him, it felt nice for an odd, unknown reason.

Once you were sure he had no other injuries on his body, you needed to treat the ones on his face. You were apprehensive, but spoke anyways, “Can you take off your mask?” At his bewildered expression, at least you think he’s shocked considering his eyes seemed to widen, you explain, “I need to treat your wounds,”

At that, Pavitr panics. He hates lying to you, but he isn’t sure he can reveal his identity to you. He thinks of ways to excuse it, but he knows you’re stubborn more than anything. Everything seems to slow down in the moment, time feels like it stops and it feels like an impossible ten years as he reaches up and takes his time pulling off his mask. He prepares himself for the words you might spew at him, would you still see him the same? Doubts overshadow the logical and reasonable part of his brain that tells him that you probably wouldn’t hate him for eternity.

When his mask is fully off, you take a moment to look at him. You cannot comprehend the sight infront of you.

Pavitr Prabhakar is Spiderman.

Your best friend is Spiderman, the masked vigilante that roams around your city. Pavitr, the guy you’d known since you could remember, the one you call when you need comfort, is Spiderman. There are so many things going through your brain, like remembering that one time Pavitr showed up to school with a bad bruise on his face, coincidentally the morning after Spiderman had gotten hit in the same spot with a pole, realizing that the reason he would abruptly leave when you two were hanging out were because a villain was on the loose. You cannot believe you knew Spiderman all along.

He stares at your expression, unable to really make something of it. He knows you’re shocked, but are you mad? Are you disappointed in him? Do you hate him? He suddenly feels the need to apologize for everything wrong he’s ever done.

Your mouth opens and closes, trying to figure out what to say to something like this. You still love him of course, but you feel so scared that the guy you’re in love with has life threatening fights nearly everyday, risking so much for Mumbattan. Your breath seems to disappear.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” He says your special nickname he made for you when you were younger and innocent children. He jumbles words, seemingly saying whatever comes to mind and his mouth won’t work as fast as his brain. He seems close to tears as he continues rambling, “—please, don’t leave me, I’ll—” he gets interrupted by you,

“Woah, what? Is that what you really thought would happen?” You feel a little hurt by that, even though you know subconsciously he was probably just so very scared of losing you, you’d never think of him like that. There was nothing that could make you leave him.

He starts fidgeting, “Well..” he trails off. He hopes you know he didn’t mean harm, he just wasn’t sure. Being Spiderman was complicated.

You smile a bittersweet smile at him, still sort of sad he would think of something like that, “We've been by each other's sides for years, you really think I'm gonna leave now?” You remind him of all the weak moments in his life, in yours and remembers that you’re there in all of them. Comforting him and him comforting you. You gently cradle his face and he feels so warm and you make him feel so safe that he can’t help it when he says,

“I love you,” He doesn’t realize what he said until he sees your expression, he thinks for that slight second that he just made it weird again, that you really won’t let this one slide, until he feels your soft lips against his. A soft kiss and he feels nice. It feels like you’re taking care of him and he relaxes in your touch.

When you pull away, he chases your lips and you giggle. You press your foreheads together and whisper, like you’re sharing a secret, like it’s only you and him in the world right now, “I love you too,” and he plays with your hair as he leans in for another kiss and another.

The kisses shared between you two are full of gentleness and giggles, you go to touch his hair and you then remember the reason he even came to you in the first place.

“Go clean up, your hair is a mess and I still need to fix your wounds.” He chuckles and does what you say. For the first time since he became Spiderman, he feels so relaxed.

[khwxbeeda]

Indian Dark Academia: Pune

(all of these are my experiences since moving to the city at the end of July this year)

.

The Peth areas are convoluted, haphazardly arranged and teeming with life. You walk through a lane crammed with stalls of fake jewellery, and you want to buy every pair of jhumka and bugdi you can see. You raise your phone and take a close up, deciding that you're gonna post it. (You never do. That picture feels personal, somehow, in a way you cannot explain.)

There is a plaza in Good Luck Chowk on FC road whose basement has a somewhat hidden bookshop. The books there are both fresh and second hand. You make your way to the second-hand shelves and breathe in deeply, savouring the smell of old books and yellowing paper. You want to buy all of them, but you take home the worn copy of a collection of Marathi stories. The old man at the counter gives you a bookmark and tells you to be back with a wide smile and crinkling eyes. (You go back within the week.)

You stand under the dubious protection of a patryacha chhat, cold fingers wrapped around a mud tumbler full of steaming aalyacha chaha. The rain does not look like it will stop anytime soon, but you're not worried. Your best friend is standing next to you with her own tumbler, and both of you are giggling at a story she tells you about her own college— she lives in Mumbai and is visiting for a day, just to spend time with you because she missed you. You silently hope the rain does not stop for a while yet; you're having too much fun.

The sun is high in the sky, but it hides behind rain clouds. You take a step, the soles of your sports shoes scraping over the uneven rock of the tekdi that you decided to explore on an impulse. You're alone, with only the trees and the dog that randomly decided to follow you up the hill in sight. Invisible birds chirp and sing, and you slide your phone out of your pocket to take a photo of the unbeaten path. A little part of you fears getting lost in an unknown place. The bigger, more curious part of you wants to know why the wind sounds so melodious when it slips between the leaves of the trees. You'll post the photo, you think, once you're home.

The college is quiet. It's seven in the morning, and you're already on campus, and have climbed up the walls of the main building to reach that unreachable part of the roof. Except it isn't as unreachable as you thought it to be— the walls are engraved with little messages from the students who came here before you, and you brush your fingers over the letters with a secret smirk. Someone had enough love in their heart to carve a short Urdu love poem for their partner. You search up the words on Google, but the results are inconclusive. An original piece, then. Shame, you think. That is beautiful wordplay. You take a photo, then go back to your book. Class starts at half past seven, and you want to finish at least this chapter.

The library is packed with people, but all of them are silent. It's eerie, but you've been living in libraries for as long as you can remember, and you're perfectly at home in this silence. It feels like being in a temple— there is a awed, almost devotional hush in the air, and you fear that you will breathe too loud. You slip between two darkwood shelves, and brush your fingers over the spine of an old hardbound collection of the works of Pu La Deshpande that looks like it will fall apart any second. You've read this one before, but you check it out anyway.

The exam is tomorrow, but you're sitting in the light of three diyas and feverishly flicking your eyes over the pages of your tattered copy of the Hindi translation of Chokher Bali. This is the eleventh time you're reading the book, but you're still obsessed with it for reasons unknown. Pariksha gayi bhaad mein, you think, and flip the page. The next day, you turn up at the exam hall with bags under your eyes, a completed book, and not a second of studying. You walk out with a score of 19 out of 20, and promptly fall asleep under the shade in the bamboo garden with your head on a friend's lap.

.

Tag list: @musaafir-hun-yaaron @hum-suffer @patriphagy @orgasming-caterpillar @mad-who-ra @kanha-sakhi @yehsahihai @h0bg0blin-meat

[saturnine-saturneight]

OC deep dive tag!

Thank you to @fortunatetragedy for the tag!!! [here]

I need a little jumpstart for Matcha's voice for this next chapter, so I'm digging this two week old tag out of my drafts x)

Phobias: She pretends that it's spiders, because she figures that screaming at those and making other people get them for her makes her look more harmelss. She honestly doesn't mind them that much. Her actual fear is trypophobia.

Other fears: Being taken too seriously. Tripping over her words.

Pet peeves: Recalcitrant people who won't let her pry into their business. Open up. C'monnnn. It's just her! :)

3 items you can find in her bedroom: Romance novel, eyeliner, burner phone.

First thing she notices in a person: Approachableness, even before attractiveness. She's generally good at gauging how open somebody is to friendly interaction.

On a scale of 1 to 10, how high is her pain tolerance? 2 or 3. She doesn't like getting hurt.

Does she go into fight or flight mode when under pressure? Fawning first, then flight mode, and only when those two don't work, fight, but more like a cornered mouse trying to bite.

Does she come from a big family/is she a family person? She has two older brothers, one older sister, and a sprawling web of aunts, uncles, cousins, and grandparents. She liked the family get togethers and misses them, but she doesn't miss everybody getting into her business. She has her own family now and sometimes wishes these two parts of her life could meet, but knows this can never happen.

What animal represents her best? Opossum :V She, too, likes to play dead dramatically, panic and hiss at everything, and dig through other people's trash / dirty laundry.

What is a smell that she dislikes? She's pretty tolerant to bad smells. A good trait to have in her former line of work.

Has she broken any bones? She broke her ankle running a few years ago. It still bothers her.

How would a stranger likely describe her? I'll let Nat do us the honors:

"On the other side of her face, a thick curtain of her hair is falling into her brown, cat-like face. It’s thick, pin straight, and dull looking, and where it hits her waist, split ends are starting to form. Nat eyes her thin wrists. She looks straight up malnourished, or perhaps like she hasn’t done physical labor a day in her life."

Is she a night owl or a morning bird? Night owl, though she's often forced to wake up early.

What is a flavor she hates and a flavor she loves? She loves the taste of coffee and hates fermented things like sauerkraut or kimchi, though she likes pickled mangoes.

Does she have any hobbies? Matcha no longer has a lot of time for hobbies. She doodles in the margins of notes often, though.

Boom, surprise birthday party! How does she react to surprises? Freeze with shock. Then: Squeal with joy. You thought of her? That's so sweet!!

Does she like to wear jewelry? Her ears are pierced in multiple places, though she's taken the majority of her ear jewelry out. She likes the look of chokers, usually simple and black, and wears bracelets sometimes.

Does she have neat or messy handwriting? Curly and pretty when she knows others will see it, jagged and quick in her own private notes.

What are the two emotions she feels the most? Dread and longing.

Does she have a favorite fabric? She likes velvet, silk, and mohair :)

What kind of accent does she have? She has a pretty standard North American accent. She's a second generation immigrant, her parents immigrated from Mumbai to the former US during the second bio engineering boom in the mid 2170s, ten years before she was born, give or take. So she grew up speaking Marathi at home and American English and Hindi in school and with peers.

Tagging:

@paeliae-occasionally @rotting-moon-writes @marlowethelibrarian @fortunatetragedy (get retagged >:) ) @fairytaleinagem

@writingrosesonneptune @davycoquette @the-golden-comet @gioiaalbanoart @chauceryfairytales

@autism-purgatory @lychhiker-writes @marquis-of-writeblr @cowboybrunch

[geek-and-destroy]

'Progressive' hindu nationalists - why are they Like That?

Tomorrow is the 26th of January, the 74th Republic Day in India - the day the Indian constitution was formalized and adopted. I thought i'd mourn my fast-fading nationalism on this occasion by kinda airing out some bullshit and starting a political longpost, which is always a good idea right? right???

Since about the end of last year, I've seen some blogs on here that define themselves around hindutva - hindu nationalism, the idea that India is a hindu nation and must abandon its secular status. Any leftie/liberal with any awareness of the news will know their rhetoric is bullshit. Anyone who isn't really aware of Indian religious dynamics would know to spot their Islamophobia from a mile away, because seriously, the discourse is Ben Shapiro levels of bad.

The most egregious of these include hindulivesmatter, rhysaka, yato-dharmasto-jaya, vindhyavasini and others. Basically a small hindu nationalist clique. They're actually not that big a deal even on this hellsite, but they keep annoyingly popping up to start firebrand arguments under posts. But they're not uncommon in the real world. In fact, i think the majority of the Indian urban youth is Like That - anti-homophobia, anti-misogyny, theoretically anti-islamophobia, the same general left-leaning values associated with Gen Z; but with a weird blind spot when it comes to the fascist decline of their own country.

These users are not too different from TERFs, with their couching of hate in progressive, tumblr-social-justice language. There's been a lot of discourse around why TERFs are the way they are, why their otherwise feminist and progressive values eventually shatter in favour of their hate. I want to do something similar for hindutva tumblr, because i see in it a newer kind of hindu nationalist aggression, yet one that i am very familiar with, as an urban upper-middle-class Indian born into a Marathi Hindu family.

The main question i want to answer is this: why does someone espousing dire Islamophobic rhetoric also sincerely believe in progressive ideas? Why do they not see the contradictions? To do that, we need a little primer in post-independence Indian history.

So, it's often said that Indian democracy was not handed to us; this is not only in the sense that we had to fight for our freedom against the Brits, but also in the sense that there were long deliberations on the exact type of republic we wanted to be. The constitution was drafted, finalized and adopted a full three years after the Brits left. This framing of a philosophical struggle stayed on, throughout the tumult of the following decades.

This is how the modern Indian is taught about our history: Several riots, the Emergency in the 70s, the wars with Pakistan and China, the formation of Bangladesh, the victory at the cricket world cup, the Cold War international policy of non-alignment, the Green Revolution, all of these are presented through a frame of struggle, with the Kargil War and the 1991 liberalization being the point of stabilization. The median citizen of 1971 was politically aware and politically involved. That of 2001 was most likely not. At least, that's the narrative of capitalism in the country. This narrative of a 50-year prolonged post-independence struggle is why Indian nationalism is so potent, even outside of the newer Hindu fascist rhetoric. We've got a very intense sense of national pride. I'm guilty of it myself.

In 1991, the economy was opened up to multinational corporations and eventually led to the formation of an Indian petit bourgeois. The period from 1991 to roughly 2011 is seen as a period of idyllic peace much like the Clinton administration in the US. Culturally, this was the time of the Bollywood masala movie - light, apolitical and all about a big Hindu joint family that preaches benevolent unity of all religions. But the thing that was never mentioned in these movies was caste - an elephant in the room that i haven't addressed yet. Just like the 'default' US Culture is white suburban christian, the default culture here is upper caste middle-class hindu. The aforementioned rise of the middle class was largely along caste lines. Households in the US have microcultures along ethnic lines, and they can be similarly mapped in India through caste and religion.

The Indian equivalent of the megachurch pastor is the ruling BJP's paramilitary parent organization, the RSS, as well as others like the Vishwa Hindu Parishad, the Karni Sena, etc - organizations that normal people largely didn't agree with but whose values and morals were ingrained in their subconscious. The apolitical Hindu in like 2004 did not believe, like the RSS does, that India should be a Hindu nation; but he (i use 'he' here because male tends to be default in this case, and that's a whole different conversation) did believe in the greatness of traditions, the Indian armed forces and in ancient Hindu scientific supremacy (which at the time was limited to Aryabhatta's zero and the actual progress in the sciences from ancients like Charaka and Sushruta to more modern ones like Ramanujan and CV Raman - it hadn't gone into cuckoo fantasy land yet, where we showhow had stem cell research and aeroplanes in ancient India and the Ramayana is apparently actual history now). To this person, Savarkar was an icon of the freedom struggle along with others like Gandhi, Bose, Ambedkar, etc, but he didn't know or care about his religio-fascist ideology. Fascist elements existed then and had their pockets of support - the Shiv Sena in Maharashtra, Modi's CM-hood in Gujarat, and the first BJP national administration came up during this time. To the normal citizen, they were simply extremists with 'some good points'.

2008 was the year of the 26/11 attacks in Mumbai. Islamophobia didn't fully enter Indian discourse just yet, largely because of the assertion of the city's multicultural identity, but the seeds were certainly sown. In fact, blatant Islamophobia wouldn't be mainstream till 2016 or so - the BJP's 2014 election was won on middle-class concerns. The petit bourgeois finally made its voice heard politically in the 2011 anti-corruption protests spearheaded by Anna Hazare and Arvind Kejriwal, the latter of whom is the founder of the newest major political party in the country. It's typical of protests of this kind, agitating against a vague idea of corruption with not many tangible demands. It is true that by 2011, the Congress government was notoriously bloated, corrupt and ineffectual at a systemic level. The BJP gained a single-party majority on an anti-corruption and pro-welfare platform, with religion not really a factor.

The middle class celebrated this as an ultimate affirmation of their hegemony, and the RSS-derived values kicked into high gear. The celebrations have now become a gloat-fest, kinda like vindicated Marvel fans when their Disney product makes a bajillion dollars. The best example of this is the Ram Mandir inauguration earlier this week. Modi cultivated an image of a messiah figure who could do no wrong. Anyone who opposed their goals is now an anti-national and a traitor. General attitudes as a whole have grown a lot more bloodthirsty and carceral. Propaganda, degradation of public discourse, weakening of the media and public institutions, the whole gamut.

The people running the above-mentioned blogs are quite representative of this demographic. They probably fully believe what they spout. They fully believe that Hindus and Hinduism are under threat in India, that love jihad ("forced conversion") is a real thing, that Islamists are taking over their nation, and even that Hindus have been 'sleeping' and are just now being 'woken up'. At the same time, they believe in socially progressive values. The supposedly pro-LGBT+ and pro-feminist stances taken by the RSS are very much targeted at urban Hindus, not at the West as PR.

The propaganda directed at them (which includes movies, social media and tragically, many news outlets) often appeals to the traditional acceptance of queer individuals in mythological texts to get straight, cis, sheltered urban Hindus of all ages to reconcile bigotries and get on board the hate train. It is often in a comparative frame, juxtaposed with the bigotry in Islamic or Christian texts and historical persecution in the West (btw, the term acceptance is very loose here, they often equate mention of a thing with acceptance of that thing even if it's derogatory. Ancient hindu culture only 'accepted' trans women, and that was a marginalized acceptance at best).

The RSS often preaches that Hinduism is the religion of tolerance, and advocates for a twisted version of the tolerance paradox. It's reached a level where propaganda doesn't have to be deliberate - the citizens will do it for them. These blogs are true believers despite the contradictions, but their online activity is probably a deliberate form of praxis, with the co-opting of social justice vocab and appealing to white/western/Indian expat guilt etc. So yes, very much like TERFs, except that TERFs are an actual minority whereas Hindutva ideology is increasingly the default 'apolitical' belief. The reactionary internalization has been successful.

Tl;dr: people like hindulivesmatter are sincere in their bigotry towards Muslims as well as their progressive beliefs, because Indian culture as a whole oriented itself towards appealing to the urban upper caste middle class.

[ranveer--singh]

The nights are tasteless without you ~ Ari Levinson Fic

A/N - This is my first proper multiple chapter story which came to me while watching a Bollywood movie. It is set in Mumbai India where Ari is a professor at a university meets a person of colour - Marathi girl at the train station. There will be other Chris Evans characters as professors and Henry Cavill characters as professors

Warning: Please read this before reading the story. 18+, smut, sex… etc

I want to thank the amazing @madbaddic7ed2pointoh​ for encouraging me to write this fic, helping me with few plot lines and making it progress. So far I have written 14 parts and see where the story takes me. Hope you all enjoy this, make sure to like, comment and reblog.

Ari rushed onto the platform, pushing the strap of his dark brown satchel back onto his shoulder. He found it hard to sleep last night; with all the traveling, checking his bags in, and trying to find his apartment, he only managed to get 4 hours of sleep. Ari cursed under his breath, seeing the time on his apple watch, and knew he would be late for his first day as Professor teaching Hebrew at the International University in Mumbai.

He squeezed his eyes shut, cursing once again as he heard the announcer say the train was delayed by 25 minutes. Ari wished he had gone with the first option of renting a car so he would get around Mumbai quickly. Now he had time to kill; he saw a bench near him and sat down, opening his satchel to grab his flask of coffee and notebook to read his notes for the day.

Ari took a few gulps of the hot coffee, looking at the university map, hoping not to get lost on his first day. It was such a large university, like in the Bollywood movie Mohabbatein he watched with his Indian friend back in Israel. After familiarising himself with the map, he folded it back into his notebook and went over his notes for the day. Ari had only four classes today, and each class had 15/20 students, which wasn't as daunting as he thought.

The silence got disturbed by a lady wearing a small jhanjhar on her feet which chimed while she walked. She looked confused, expecting the train to arrive. Ari just watched; a small smile appeared on his lips, looking at her outfit. She was wearing black trousers, a mock neck keyhole green blouse, and of course, green and white vans as she was a physiotherapist who was on the way to meet a few patients. Her hair was long and braided with a few flowers in between the braids; she had a black backpack on her shoulder with her water bottle sticking out.

The lady looked around, trying to find someone to ask about the train; most were watching videos on their phone or scrolling through social media. She looked across from her, Ari sitting on the bench reading his book. She walked over to him, clearing her throat to see him look up from his book and give her a big smile. Her body tingled, and she moved slightly away from him; the aftershave he was wearing lingered over her making her swallow hard.

“Sorry to disturb you while you're reading. I wanted to know if the train has left already,” she asked, biting her lip and looking at Ari with long brown hair. The look he spotted was dark brown linen trousers, a blue mustard short-sleeved checked shirt, and white Adidas original trainers.

“That’s ok, ma'am, I arrived at the platform 10 minutes ago, and the announcer said the train is delayed by 25 minutes,” he said, making her moan and curse in Marathi, having to grab her phone and text her patient that she will be late. Ari could see she was stressed, so he grabbed his flask of coffee and poured some in the lid, and handed it to her. “Drink this; it will keep you warm as you wait for the train,” he said, giving her the cup.

“No, no, it’s ok. I'll get one from the vendor outside,” she said, looking at Ari stretching his hand out, the vein popping on his arm as he offered the coffee cup.

“Please, I insist. It is a little chilly here; why don’t you sit next to me,” Ari says, moving his back to the other side of the bench. She takes the coffee cup and has a few sips, feeling the hot liquid go down her body.

She sat down on the space on the bench and looked at him with a smile, “Thank you for this; I was in such a rush and didn’t have time to make coffee or eat,” she said, looking at him grab his bag and rummage through it and gets out nutrition bar and hands it over to her to eat.

“We can’t have a pretty girl like yourself not to eat or have coffee in the morning,” Ari says, concerned; she frowns at him, looking very suspicious. Never has she had a man offer her food and drink and not want anything else?

“I’m fine,” she said, handing him the coffee cup and standing up, and grabbing her phone and headphones to play some music. Ari was bewildered; what just happened? All he was doing was helping her out in the most innocent way. He was about to walk over to her when the train had just arrived, and Ari saw her step into the fourth carriage from him and sit down.

He shook his head, not wanting to think about it right now as he had to meet the headmaster of the university. She was sitting on the seat, listening to music, when a Bollywood song - Muskurane, played, and she sighed, seeing Ari’s head pop in her mind, the wind blowing his hair. She was feeling guilty; it wasn’t intentional to give him the cold shoulder.

[siriusblack-the-third]

oooh is it Holi tomorrow? :DD can you give us some ideas or headcanons about James celebrating Holi with his parents/Sirius/Harry? <33

Honestly, depending on a few factors, everyone celebrates Holi on a different day (the traditions for Holi are different depending on the sect of Hinduism and region of celebration as well). Also, North Indian होली and Maharashtrian होळी (search up the differences in pronunciation, it's a bit hard to describe) are two completely different religious holidays. The Hindi होली (ho-lee) is equivalent to the Marathi "ranga panchami" (ranga- colour, panchami- fifth day of a lunar cycle). As far as I know, the Marathi होळी doesn't have an equivalent.

The traditions I'm going by are my family traditions— the Marathi traditions of my region— so i hope you enjoy. Let's goooo!

Oh yeah, this is before Harry turns eleven and goes to Hogwarts.

The day of होळी signifies the first day of spring in Maharashtra. Every year, the members of the Black-Potter family start the day by watching the sunrise together with cups of spicy chaha (marathi for chai).

The day is pretty much the usual, except for food. James cooks up a storm in the kitchen, making all the pancha pakwaan (pancha- five, pakwaan- dishes) with puran poli (a sweet flatbread), three different vegetables, rice, amti (somewhat like daal, either drunk from the bowl or poured over rice), and a traditional dessert. They invite the Weasleys, the Marauders and the Longbottoms over, and have a veritable feast for lunch and dinner. A very chaotic affair, but the Black-Potters love it.

All three of them absolutely adore panchamrut (pancha- five, amrut- nectar of the Gods. It's made of five ingredients- milk, ghee, sugar, curd, honey). Once James is done with his pooja and the naividya (the first morsel/sip of any food/drink is always offered to the Gods), the three of them pounce on the drink with all the vigour of someone who hasn't had anything to eat for days.

As the evening draws closer, Harry, the Weasley kids, Neville, and Lily and Remus out to the woods that surround the house and collect dried wood for. Meanwhile, James, Sirius and Peter gather the panchamrut and a bite each of the pancha pakwaan, and ready the porch for lighting a safe fire with the help of the Molly, Arthur, Augusta, Alice and Frank.

Just as the sun sets, the bonfire is lit, and the blaze reaches high into the sky within minutes, helped along by magic. Everyone sits around it in a circle, closing their eyes and praying— the fire signifies the destruction of the bad energy of the previous year and the purification of the soul for a better new year. Holi is the first day of spring, a mark of new beginnings, a symbol of clean slates and fresh starts. The Holi fire is where you throw all your baggage of the last year so it burns till it is gone, to prepare yourself for the upcoming year.

The pancha pakwaan and panchamrut are poured into the fire to loud cheers from the children, and then the real festivities begin. Everyone walks around the fire in a circle, howling at the top of their lungs. The sounds are slightly terrifying, especially when the darkness really sets in and the only light is the massive bonfire, but Harry loves the ferality of the entire thing. It's primal, the way the war cries rise up with the fire, echoing throughout the massive grounds of Potter Manor like the echoes of screaming ghosts.

Sometimes, Harry, Ginny and the Weasley twins start war dances instead of the howling. Those times, Bill and Charlie eagerly join in along with James, Lily and Alice, and the hard and fast thumping of their feet on the packed mud porch makes it seem like an earthquake is cracking the ground open.

Other times, they write their mistakes, insecurities, bad thoughts and regrets of the past year onto slips of paper and throw them into the fire, to signify the new start. Last year does not matter anymore; it is done and you cannot change it. You can have a new beginning, though, and Harry vows every year that he will be a better person.

James loves these times, where everyone he cares about is close to him and glowing with happiness. Holi is his favourite festival, because it is the day he and Sirius kissed for the first time. It is the day he remembers with fondness— childhood years spent with his parents and grandparents and cousins in a crowded wada (kind of like a palace but the size varies from anywhere between four bedrooms to like 70), sneaking panchamrut from under his mother's nose, dancing Garba around the fire with his Gujju friends in India, the day the Potter family first moved to Britain right before his 11th birthday. People expect his favourite festival to be Diwali or Ganpati Chaturthi because they are loud and huge and phenomenal celebrations, but his favourite is this— all his favourite people in the same place with the same happy smile and the same traditions that he loved when he had blood family.

Holi is a festival for families and loved ones, and the Black-Potters have a lot of love to go around. Family isn't defined by blood, after all.

[monsterfactoryfanfic]

Thanks for the tag @sohkrates! I fear my Work in Progress list is significantly shorter than yours, mostly because my tabletop work is limited to the occasional game/supplement and videos. The rest of the time I'm writing book(s)!

In Progress

Next video: ??? I spent a lot of energy on Spire and now I'm just searching for an angle. I think it might end up just being about my system-neutral supplement "Finley: A Midwest Fantasy" and how it's something of a goodbye to Indiana for me.

Next game: Not working on any tabletop writing right now!

Book: The pitch for working title Ravenous is "What if countries exploited during America's Cold War coups tried to assassinate Henry Kissinger, and also he was the pope, and also the Church created Kaiju for the US military?" Basically doing a full rewrite because the first draft was not working, but hope to have around 70k of that by November!

Trunked/Maybe Will Return To

Games: I was collaborating with Dani Belonia on a Resistance game last year, and we just never got around to finishing it, but I think a lot of the setting stuff from that was really neat. The hydraheron from Finley actually originated there. Hopefully I can continue to recycle some of those ideas in future work!

Books: I've written about a book and a half that very few people have seen. The first, The Chains Nothing Can Break was my first novel and still is the creative work I'm most proud of. Marathis colonize Britain with steampunk mechas, a satire of both steampunk and adventure stories set in the Raj. Maybe one day we'll find a publisher. The other book, which I never titled, was about paleontologist necromancers who used magic crystals to do archeological digs, selling the bones of dinosaurs to be used in a war against sexy moth aliens. It was GREAT concept with TERRIBLE execution, ended up in some not great narrative territory, so I canned it. Will try to pull some stuff from it in the future, but yeah, sometimes you gotta take the L.

Would Like to Be In Progress

Games: Would still like to work on something with the resistance system, just because I think that's such a fun way to manage damage and consequences in a narrative-first format. But yeah, unfortunately I'm just better at setting/fluff than mechanics! Been writing for 6 years at this point, and only designing games for 2 (not counting D&D homebrewing lol). Anyway, if you're looking for a setting/fluff writer, I love that shit.

Videos: I definitely want to do something with Heart, just because Howitt and Taylor do a great job of building evocative worlds, but it'll be a while yet before I'm ready for another long one. I thought I might tackle Gubat Banwa, but it seems like DragonKid11 has that covered. Plus tactical games are a bit harder for me to get into, but who knows, maybe someday! I also posited the idea of doing a Tabletop 101 series last year, where I took a look at games that were considered foundational to the indie scene as it currently stands and why they were important. I think that might be a cool project, but like, how many more dives into Apocalypse World do we need at this point?

Books/short stories: Just off the top of my head- prophesied chosen one who is Dual Eligible for Medicare and Medicaid comes to slay private health insurance; fantasy retelling of the 2nd Punic War; examination of Lord of the Rings from the Orc/Haradrim pov largely based off of Charles W. Mills The Wretched of Middle Earth

Anyway, I'd love to see what folks like @titanomachyrpg, @goblinmixtape, @cassimothwin /@chasetheghost, and @kidnickgames are working on! No pressure if you don't care for these tagging games!

[photov2024]

Aaji - My inspiration

The loss of someone close in your life is always painful. Today, I am not going to be talking about death but about the life of someone close to me and also about Breast Cancer , Aaji’s experience and all that I learnt through this process . My nani (Aaji in Marathi). She passed away on the 5th of April, 2024. My nani had breast cancer. It was detected in 2017. It was detected late and could not be treated with a strong dose of Chemo and also could not go through surgery at that time. I was in the 7th grade at that time. And we all were really sad. And at that time, I associated cancer with death and thought that it can never be cured (though it is true, but out of every 100 patients with cancer, there is always 1 who gets cured). She passed away a day before her 89th Birthday. That is right her birthday was on the 6th of April. I was sad that she passed away when she was so close to 90. But soon, I realized that there was a long time back when the doctor had told us that maybe a few months. But she lived for 3 years after that despite everything she went through. She did not leave hope even a day before her death. And that is a big accomplishment, given the circumstances.

But this is not what I want to remember her as. I want to remember her as my friend who saved me from mama’s scolding many times and who helped me with every little problem I had. Who read all the Harry Potter books, and we discussed them for a very long time. I will always remember how we used to make Modak every Ganesh Chaturthi and how despite not remembering many things she was the only person to remember the Ganesh Aarti. I till date remember her stories where she would add my name as the princess who was saved from the monster, what was special about the stories, was that she modified the stories to teach us some morals- it was not your basic princess taken hostage by a monster and is saved by the prince, she always made sure that we learnt something from her. There is a lot I learnt from her but the most important one is that if you put up your mind to it, then you can learn new things, no matter what your age is or the person you are learning from. The main thing is that you put your mind to it and take criticism positively. That is one important lesson that she has taught me, personally.

And I hope to do justice to everything she thought of me and what all she wanted me to be (career and personality wise). Every time I think of Aaji, I remember that she wanted to see me in a graduation hat and gown, and I will make sure that whatever happens I will do anything and everything to make that happen.

Ok. So, I think I have written a lot so that is all for today.

Photo Credit- Ovi Patankar Basu

Location - Hauz Khas, New Delhi

[welldonekhushi]

Capt. Arjun HC's

I was conflicted whether to make HC's of Scarlet or Arjun, well, I never made any on Arjun, so I thought I'd make of his first!

- Arjun was born in a Marathi-Punjabi family, his mother being a Marathi and his father a Punjabi. So, Arjun has two birth languages, but the most prominent one is of his mother's.

- Arjun is likely a reserved person, who doesn't prefer telling anyone trying to know his backstory of how he became a Captain.

- Solitude doesn't affect the Captain at all. Not at once. Unless you have Commando Aditya planning with his friends to group with Arjun and have a friendly, enjoyable conversation. And guess what? Arjun secretly likes it!

- Surely, Arjun is someone with a bad temper, and his face says it all. He does scold his teammates when they lack in some skill or do some mishap in between training, especially mocking them for not doing much effort. But the commandos don't take his words seriously and instead take the initiative of working harder, and it works.

- Arjun doesn't show much emotions, unless you are his wife, or a closest friend whom he can rant his feelings about. If he cries in front of you, it means he truly trusts you in bursting out his thoughts he pushed down for a long time.

- During his Lieutenant days, Arjun was a quite more sane and decent person, before meeting the tragedy in his life. The whole behaviour and personality of his changed into a whole different shape, thus making it harder for others to dive inside his mind.

- He wakes up at 3 AM in the morning, getting himself ready and making the soldiers go for a morning run under his supervision.

- If anyone had the most strong and detailed body in the group, it is of Arjun, and it's surely a fact.

- He has scars, on his upper back and one on his lower stomach. He was likely stabbed during the missions he had been present in and it gives him a little trauma if you ask or remind him about them.

- His poker face? Emotionless but serious. No one knows what's going on in the Captain's mind, but it's assured he does think of something that works in the future meantime.

- Arjun sometimes prefers to have conversations with Colonel Kulshrestha, incase he wants some useful advice.

- He's really aware and cautious about his surroundings. He can understand when danger might take place and when he has to act towards it. Like when he was with the 141 and found out that Graves wasn't their ally all this time, his mind created a strategy on how to take down the Shadow Company for a short while so that the others could escape. Arjun's intellect is very straightforward, something a rare being can possess.

- Arjun likely has hopes for all his teammates, but he finds a hidden talent inside Commando Aditya, and he did show it to him during his training where Aditya had to face off his Captain.

- Arjun sometimes keeps a locket in his pocket, that actually has a picture of his wife, Kavya. And a pen that he keeps in his drawer but never uses it. One doesn't know for what purpose he doesn't but for Arjun it holds a deeper meaning, and he wishes not to reveal it to anyone unless necessary.

[gulaabjamoon]

Hi. This is gonna be weird so bear with me alright? So I was just sitting and thinking instead of studying for my boards that are happening in like 15 days. And what was I thinking about? Dil dosti duniyadari. So I decided to see if Tumblr had any d3 content but they don't sadly...😢but then i found your ask on someone's blog about Dil dosti duniyadari so i thought to talk to you. The summary is...would you like to be my friend?😊💐

of course dude! you don't have to ask. desi marathi friends for the win

[rmahapatradas]

cobalt blue

once you asked me to soap your back. i took off my t-shirt and rolled my trousers up to the knees. i washed your back and then came out, rolled my trousers down again and put on my t-shirt. then i sat down at the table and began reading.

i realized that i had gradually stopped going to the station road, stopped visiting chat rooms. and this despite the fact that we didn't hold hands for days. as i sat there reading, i glanced back to see you standing at the mirror, drying your hair. it occurred to me then that the change had happened to itself, on its own. you were there all the time. you were mine alone. or so i thought.

in my head i united our names, inscribed them on a brass plate and attached them to a mahogany door that you had carved. our door was the most beautiful in the entire building. everyone would know what a creative person --- with a bright, cool, clear mind --- lived behind the mahogany door. when we discovered that we wanted the same colours on the wall, we high-fived each other. but it couldn't have been any other way. i hadn't given much thought to colour before you came into our lives. you wanted a wood floor; the last room would be your studio. our doors would always be open to our friends: some theatre people, some artists.

when aai and baba dropped in on us, a surprise visit, they always wondered why we took so much time to open the doors. that was because we had seen them through the peephole and we'd rushed about, taking down the nudes you'd just finished from the walls. and as soon as we opened the door, one of them would say, 'why does it always take you hours to open the door? why lock the door anyway? who's coming to steal your stuff?'

on her way to put down all her dabbas in the kitchen, aai would add, 'now that you're doing all this, the least you could do is learn the wipe the counters properly, no?' then she would wipe them herself.

- cobalt blue by sachin kundalkar, translated from marathi by jerry pinto

[viggos-mortensen]

can i ask why you only write out jamie's accent the way you do but nobody else's? lots of people on the show have different accents.

i only do this for jamie because phil's delivery come across as an exaggerated accent to me tbh. i've never aimed to make fun of northern accents or working class accents in general (also i just really like phil dunster's dialogue delivery as jamie lmao he's just so good!). yes, there are loads of accents in the show for characters that are played by people who don't really have that accent irl (even jason for eg, he definitely doesn't have that thick southern accent) but jamie's comes off as a slightly exaggerated version of the mancunian accent to me (again, i could be wrong bc this is just coming from a very limited exposure to this accent or just manchester in general).

tbh i don't even know how the thought process behind me making these sets for jamie came from (and tbh, i don't subtitle jamie in all sets i make, just the ones where the accent feels more exaggerated. there are some where i've just typed out the words in a regular manner). i honestly found phonetic typing fascinating (especially imagining how accents can be typed out). not sure if this kind of comes from personal experience of trying to explain how certain marathi or hindi words or names sound to non-indians who i interact with on a day to day basis if a situation comes up. I've seen some people criticize it in the tags or reblogs and i get where they're coming from. and again, very sorry if you also feel the same bc i never intended to mock accents. i'm an indian living in dublin for the past few years whose entire friend group is irish with thick northside/inner city accents so i do get the whole 'accent' thing and why it is a sensitive issue. thanks again for sending the ask, really appreciate the question.

also, speaking of subtitling accents, this isn't ted lasso related at all but here's a scene i giffed from the batman where i subtitled oz's accent simply because i thought colin's delivery of that line was hilarious. so yeah its definitely not just jamie

[bakuliwrites]

Hi! 4, 7 and 16 for the MC Asks!

Thank you so much for the question! Sorry it took so long for me to get to! I hope you're having a great day! I'll be answering all these questions for my fan apprentice, Bakuli :) Ask prompts are here. My inbox will be open for these asks (and any others) for a while.

4. How did you choose their name? Does it have a specific meaning? If so, what?

Bakuli's full name is Bakuli Björnsdottir. I wanted her to be of Prakran descent on her mother's side and Southern Tribal descent on her father's, so I selected a name that could combine them both. Bakuli is the Hindi/Marathi name of a small white flower often used in garlands in India. I thought it was a pretty name. Bakuli's last name is similar to Lucio's (his being Morgasson -> Son of Morga). She is Bakuli, Daughter of Björn. Though Lucio's name is derived from his mother's, I had Bakuli's surname derived from her father's so that she could have pieces of both of her culture in her name.

The Bakuli flower :)

7. What's their design? Do they have a reference sheet? What made you choose that specific color scheme/fashion style/etc.?

I'm working on refining her design yet again! But for now, this is what she looks like and here is a mood board/some more info on her. I really like the color purple, so I wanted to incorporate a lot of that into her fashion sense. Her magic is also very celestial based, so a lot of her outfits/accessories are themed using stars, moons, suns, etc...

16. Are they an early bird or a night owl? Something else?

She is an early bird! Morning is Bakuli's favorite time of day. It's quiet and peaceful and she can get a lot of her work done, including setting up the shop, tidying up, and practicing new spells! She and Julian can also get some quiet time together, since Lucio sleeps in and we all know how disruptive he can be haha.

Again, thank you so much for the ask! I truly appreciate it :)

[tired-yashika-core]

1, 3, 4, 11, 14

first of all, YAYYYY ask aayaaaa

1. first language

my first language is hindi, unfortunately. my parents always spoke to me in hindi but i am sindhi. these days, honestly idk if im more comfortable in hindi or english. i like a blend of both. kuch baate english mai ache se express nahi ho pati na.

3. fav city

DELHI. delhi. my. beloved. i really wanna go there for my college, spend half of my life there. been crazy abt it since 3rd grade because i learnt vaha parathe ki galli hai 😭 i'd also wanna take up a job for a radio jockey while i do college. yk, bade sheher bade sapne fantasy

4. language you dont speak but want to

bengali (its so sweet)

gujarati (all my friends are gujarati)

marathi (bf is marathi)

11. thoughts abt leaving india

i mean yeah, for a while i'd like to get away but permanently kabhi socha nahi. japan/nyc seem cool but voh baat nahi vaha

14. desi memory

my classmates make it special for me. not the white washed ones but the ones who respond to JINNE MERA DIL LUTEYA, relating to desi stand up comedies, making bf watch k3g, etc. i do not have a particular one tho

THANK YOU FOR THE ASK 😭😭💕

[ev-n-learning]

Cat stats: entirety of 2022 edition!

shut up no im not late youre late .

Note: I double checked and literally All of that writing was in belarusian! Despite the fact that I switched how i was tracking this halfway through! So technically that's 114 hours and 8 minutes. Pretty close to russian, actually!

Marathi has so many simply because at the start of the year, I was still trying to get a handle on actually like... reading. I'm decent at that now! But currently I'm not at any sort of level where I can talk or really read or anything, haha.

(Apparently tumblr doesnt like readmores when you have an image id. Hoping this doesnt somehow ruin the formatting!)

So, starting with ukrainian; as of today I have four skills to complete to finish the duolingo course! So I think that's at least like, 12 more days? Or something? After that I'm going to go back through to make everything legendary, so I suspect in total I will have spent at least a year on it. So that's... something. Lingq is the only thing holding my reading comprehension together right now I think 😂

For marathi, I'm honestly just curious how much better I'll be by the end of this year! Maybe my goal should be like, 'read sentences' or something lol. I've long since come to terms with the fact that I just Don't learn fast at all... :)

Russian is currently sitting on the backburner, so maybe I'm a little bit better, maybe I'm not. For now, though, I'll try to stick with it and see where that takes me! I'm happy with the fact that I finally made it through duolingo, and hopefully never have to go back again, haha

Belarusian: my one true love, light of my life, So Fucking Hard to find resources for. Anyways.

You may have seen I did nanowrimo in belarusian this year! I wrote a Lot, relatively, and have written exactly one thing in belarusian since. Such is the way of nano burnout... (but actually, I'm just procrastinating.)

I haven't decided yet whether I really want to post what I did or not, so currently the file is just sitting on my phone, waiting to be transferred so I can fix typos and stuff. It's probably going to stay like that for a while.

In other news, while I did want to start usong polygloss more, I've made a fatal mistake in constantly forgetting to reply to people, so now I think the total of 3 other people on there are ignoring me. Or just not using the app anymore, one of the two. ...in light of this, I am not using polygloss for belarusian currently. #r.i.p. my dreams.

I haven't really thought much about what I want to do this year... write more, at least. I'm definitely going to try nanowrimo again, when it comes around. I'd love to start getting more listening and reading in, but I don't go on youtube much, and as far as I can tell, most anybody who's posting in belarusian is on twitter. My twitter account has been dead since 2018 (or something) and it is going to Stay that way. As far as actual books go, eh... it's a bit harder to get my hands on anything, haha. If you happen to have reccomendations, I'm all ears... :P

(Yes there is also The Tiktok™️ but that, too, has the affliction of No Fucking Subtitles and is also a hellscape just generally, so... no.)

It's also still early in the year, so it's really anyone's guess how things are gonna end up! But that's where having simple goals comes in handy XD

In short...

Ukrainian: finish duolingo course, ???

Marathi: be able to sort of read, maybe

Russian: Who The Fuck Knows, better grammar (impossible for me and yet)

Belarusian: Know Everything Better, write... more comprehensively? write my langblr posts in belarusian, maybe?

[tlfldi]

What is music to you?

I believe music is something which can highly influence the thoughts of people, instantly. A happy person can literally get into a mood of a sad lover in the duration of 3 minute.

Firstly I'd love to know what music do y'all listen to. Is there any song that I should try? I love exploring new music, recently while my exam prep I started listening to French music. I mean yes, before clicking the play button of that playlist I was hesitating a lot thinking whether this is gonna suit my taste or not but that experience turned out to be superb. I legit had to make a personalised playlist for myself with my favourite French songs.

Look when it comes to music, it's all about exploring new tracks and genres. I grew up in a household where I've been listening to Hindi, English, Malayalam, Tamil, Telugu and Marathi songs since childhood so language was never a barrier for me and growing up I also discovered Spanish, Korean, Chinese, Japanese, Thai and Filipino songs. Now after French music I tried Turkish songs and yeah I liked a couple of them.

The point is, if you wanna discover new music, let go of the language barriers, only then will you be exposed to a ton of artists and their art. Yes, in the beginning you'll need some time to adjust with the language even if you like the melody and beats of a song but trust me, it all just grows onto you gradually.

Have you ever stanned any artist?

I am not talking about liking their music and fangirling over them. I am talking about loving the music pieces they put out, and their songs touching your heart and soul, and bringing you great joy.

For me, it's BTS.

Okay I know I'm gonna get judged for this but I truly don't mind it. It's been nearly two years since I left their fandom though, their new music is not my cup of tea. BTS is the first artist whom I have genuinely loved and followed them so much. Their music, again, is not liked by everyone. Sometimes it's because of the language barrier and sometimes it's solely because of them being too shiny and what some people call them, 'gays' or 'too feminine'.

Anyway, so why BTS? Why is every girl fangirling over these 7 guys. I don't know about every girl but I'll speak for myself. I think BTS is much more than just 7 Korean guys singing pop songs. The diversity in their music, lyrics and their personalities is what matters to me. By the way, I'm talking about the BTS before 2020. Yes, I accept that I was a toxic fangirl once upon a time but later when I actually got to know what power their music holds, I was blown away. Day before yesterday, I was revisted them by reading the lyrics of their songs while simultaneously listening to their music and damn my mind was blown. How could someone even write such lyrics, and also the concepts they've been using since their debut days is something so damn good. The storylines in their music videos are all interconnected... I mean what is it, Marvel?... They've worked on creating a BTS universe with such unique method of storytelling... Yeah I know there are better, much better artists than BTS and I don't stand by them now as a fan, I don’t follow them on social media either and I've also lessened listening to their music, it's just once in a month or so but what I'll always stand by is the fact that BTS paved the way. They set the standard and they are the effing standard.

This was purely a BTS appreciation post.

Have a good day.