#for assuming he spoke urdu

[zozo-01]

lahori wala porter and karachi wali darlin, you will always be famous to me <333

[soleilnewspaper]

James Fleamont Potter 𐂂 °⋆.

A collection of headcannons about Bambi :)

 𝗡𝗼𝘄 𝗽𝗹𝗮𝘆𝗶𝗻𝗴:

"Summer Night City - ABBA" 

01:27 ━━●──────  03:34

            ◁ㅤ ❚❚ ㅤ▷ ㅤㅤ↻    

Dividers: @the scandalorian

Remus version

Background 𖤓°⋆

His mother Euphemia, affectionately known as Effie came from a large wizarding family in Pakistan, born the youngest daughter of seven. During her later years at Hogwarts, she began working under the matron as an apprentice which aided her in securing a job as a healer of the Janus Thickey Ward at St. Mungo's after Hogwarts.

His father, Fleamont was born into a wealthy yet small wizarding family, growing up as an only child. Fleamont achieved excellent grades for his O.W.LS giving him the opportunity to many career options however he decided to explore his love for potions. Using his family heritage, Fleamont brought a shop in Diagon Alley and began his potions business straight out of Hogwarts.

The two both attended Hogwarts but didn’t meet until after they had both graduated due to their age gap. Fleamont had accidently injured himself while trying out one of his new potion recipes and Euphemia, a newly employed healer had taken the night shift. He fell in love with the way she carried herself and waited patiently until her shift was over to take her out for a coffee.

Fleamont and Effie despite both originating from pureblood wizarding families they actively stood up for both muggle born and muggle rights in the Wizarding World. Alongside this they further took on activism by advocating for the well treatment of magical creatures.

Both of Jame’s parents shared aspirations for having multiple children. Euphemia having come from a large family combined with Fleamont's own wishes for siblings as an only child, lead them to want multiple children. However, the couple struggled for years to finally fall pregnant in Effie’s 50s and Fleamont’s 60s. They had assumed they were unable to have children but then they were given a miracle. His birth was difficult and left Euphemia barren and had an extended recovering period.

Despite this James was still their miracle so they decided to pour all their love into him and spoiled him rotten.

James was raised to treat everyone with kindness and respect. His mother taught him how to be a gentleman which made her often scold him when she heard about his patronising of Lily in his early Hogwarts Years.  

His love of Quidditch comes from his mother as she played on the Gryffindor team throughout her Hogwarts Years. From a young age, his mother had him on a broom soaring through the sky.

James would play in the meadow near his house during the spring and bring flowers for his mother which she liked to press and would often make bookmarks with her dried flowers. Euphemia kept every gift that James had made her. James didn’t learn this until after his parents had died and he was cleaning up their house with the marauders.

Fleamont used to take James to his potions store when he was younger because James loved watching his father work.

James is a mama’s boy through and through. 

Even in his teen years if James has a nightmare while at home he will cry into mother’s shoulder. She will comfort him the same way she did when he was a little boy.

James grew up as a bilingual child speaking both Urdu and English in his household. Due to this, like many bilingual children, his speech was delayed. Both his parents cried when he said his first word because they had been worried about his delayed communication milestones. As a toddler he would mix up the two languages confusing his father and Euphemia had to translate for him.

However, after starting Hogwarts he was surrounded by English, majority British, so he spoke less of his mother’s tongue resulting in him forgetting some of it. Every few summers he tells himself he’ll learn urdu properly, and every few summers, he forgets about this resolution entirely. After Euphemia died he relearned the language in time for her funeral.

Bollywood movies and dvds were a staple in the Potter house.

Fleamont liked to watch old dvds for nostalgia’s sake, and as a result, James grew up watching them as well.

Physical Appearance 𖤓°⋆

His big growth spurt in maturity happened after winter break of 5th year.

Sirius and him are practically the same height, with only an inch or two difference.

His skin takes on a wheatish tone, his skin almost like the sun radiates. Manifesting the colour tone from yellow to light brown with warm undertones.

James’s eyes are the type of eyes which make you feel safe and warm inside.

Possesses comforting brown iries like the colour of aged roots alongside the green of the springtime bubs make his eyes resemble a hazel tree. The hues of green in his eyes remind him of his time spent in his childhood running on the forest floor among gentle flowers.

He has a prominent Adam’s apple.

Curls adorn his face in a shade of black with hues of brown adding a natural highlight to his hair.

According to cannon

“James was a tall, thin man who wore glasses, with hazel eyes and untidy black hair that stuck up at the back.” 

Personality 𖤓°⋆

Constantly ruffing or running his hands through his hair.

This leads to the neglecting of making sure he was keeping his glasses on securely while flying, and they'd fall off.

James can and will sleep through almost anything.

Much to the annoyance of the maunders, James is a very loud snorer.

More often than most you will find Prongs happily eating leaves and grass on full moons.

James was so in love with Lily he never bothered to plan what to do if she ever accepted his offer. So, when she did, he became a stuttering mess.

He was incredibly smart but at the same time the token dumbass

Something changed in James when his beaten and bruised brother walked into his home on that rainy Christmas Eve.

When he returned to school the following term everyone thought he was trying to impress Lily after she called him ‘an arrogant wanker’. In truth he had changed for Sirius’s sake.

Nothing comes before his friends

This man is the most loving one you will ever meet

Not only that but he loved hard and deeply, more so than anyone

James is very much a mother-hen. The marauders cannot avoid his fussing, making sure they’re alright well-fed and watered. Almost like they’re his houseplants.

Fleamont drilled tidy habits into Jame’s mind leaving him somewhat of a neat freak. Every month he’s doing deep cleaning because of the dirtiness of sharing a room with three other teenage boys.

Personal space does not exist, he is extremely touchy. It's his love language.

On the surface he likes to pretend everything comes easy to him but secretly he still must work hard to get good grades even if it’s at the last minute. He thinks it makes him cooler if he keeps a certain level of nonchalance but 50% of the time, he’s faking it till he makes it. 

 He feels everything deeply. When he loves, it’s like a tidal wave of emotion, he feels like he would go to the moon for the person. 

Notes and Trivia 𖤓°⋆

His boggart is each of his friends crying alone, his biggest fear was not being able to help the people he loves when they need him most 

Before Sirius and Remus start dating, James would carry Remus to the hospital wing after particularly rough full moons

All snuggles are initiated by him

He holds Remus’s hand after a rough moon

He’s the matchmaker of Hogwarts

Jumped at the chance to spend time with Lily when she asked him to help her get Dorcas and Marlene together

Tried to call Sirius snuffles before they came up with padfoot 

He knows Lily’s cycle better than she does

So, when that time of the month comes, he’s the most dotting boyfriend you ever did see

Surprise hugs are his speciality

He is the best transfiguration student that McGonagall ever taught 

He ruffles his friend’s hair,

kisses them on the check, and holds their hands to make them smile or when they’re upset

His father gifted him a calligraphy set for his fourteenth birthday which was the start of his love for writing letters

James always has his camera with him and has collections dedicated to all his friends

He is also a mother-hen with the younger Gryffindor students especially when he’s head boy.

He felt lonely growing up as an only child, but his wish was fulfilled when his parents practically adopted Sirius.

@h3arts4strs This is for you babes >3

[fancyfade]

has anyone got a list of what languages batfam members can speak?

I know that in an interview the young justice (TV) show person gave which languages he thought Dick could speak which were “Robin speaks English, and can get by in French, Spanish, Italian, German, Japanese and Mandarin Chinese, at least. (link)”

Obviously we know that he can do a sign language (link) in the comic but I don’t know whether they ever clarified whether it was ASL or another sign language (ASL seems logical though)

I know for Damian I reblogged a headcanon post on which languages he is best at (link) (which were English, Arabic, Chinese, French, Russian, and Urdu). On panel he speaks Cantonese in the prelude to RRAG comics (the one that was like. at the end of a robin issue where he fights ghosts). He also says he can speak French and German in Batman Incorporated. He understand Spanish in Robin: Son of Batman #2 in the flashback scene ( he understands what oraculo is telling the kids when its in the < > brackets and earlier in teh comic they say thats spanish)

For Babs I think we see her speak French, Greek, and Chinese (writers did not say which Chinese language/dialect) when Savant is talking to her on the phone. in azrael 29 she says she took spanish in high school

I assume that Bruce specifically CANT speak Russian because in the KGBeast follow-up plot they made a point how everyone in Russia was interacting with him in English and they made sure to send Batman someone who spoke English, and I assume if he spoke Russian the writers wouldn’t have bothered doing that.

bruce speaks Japanese in Batman incorporated 2 and Spanish in 3, he speaks portugues (clipped but antiquated) in batman 472. he also speaks farsi in death in the family, however he’s doing so to get around lebanon, so it is possible the writers meant to have him speaking arabic and just didnt know what the official language of lebanon is.

Bruce speaks SPanish in ‘tec 404 and uses sign language in batman 222

I don’t know whyy I am focusing on this rn its just an intersection of two interests

EDIT: more for Dick ty!

illumiru said: 

  I think Dick at least has some knowledge in Tamaranean (enough to hack a computer at least), Farsi, German and Italian as well but im not sure on what level of fluency he is there.                          

dick has contradictory information on whether he can speak japanese or not (nightwing 125 says he can’t, I have heard but not read that a Titans annual says he can). he does speak russian in the first issues of grayson. In robin 175 he speaks Farsi. he also uses ASL to understand Joey and knew it before meeting him

dick: says he can speak german in jla 2006 #44.. In Batman 706, Dick can’t read which sign in chinatown is a butcher’s shop, and kitrinia says “So batman doesn’t know chinese?”

azrael speaks Spanish in Shadow of the Bat #24, but does not remember ever speaking Spanish and thinks he was programmed with it by the system

EDIT EDIT: adding my own non-batfam notes for my own future reference im just gonna keep track of things here

Dinah Lance (Black Canary) speaks japanese in black canary 2007 #1. she speaks cantonese in birds of prey 82

Ted Grand (wildcat) understands Spanish in Infinity Inc 25

mari mccabe (vixen) Swahili (suicide squad 24)

Floyd Lawton (Deadshot) and Nemesis both speak Russian in Suicide Squad #5. Enchantress, Penguin, Nightshade, and Rick Flag specifically do not speak Russian

superman (clark kent): Mandarin Chinese (talking to Kenan), japanese (action comics 760, COIE 4) russian (superman 1987 53 AND adventures of superman #599) . in superman 54 he says 1 thing in german and then thinks “That pretty much exhausts my german”. superman says 1 line of spanish in action comics 668 without clarifying how much he speaks. he also seems to understand a phonecall in Spanish lois has in superman: the man of steel #3. superman speaks and reads spanish in adventures of superman 610 superman seems to not be able to speak french but may have amnesia. he doesnt know his name but does know dinosaur names, possibly indicating he has some skills. (action comics 671 ). superman has a conversation in arabic (adventures of superman 619)

lois lane speaks spanish (superman: the man of steel #3)

raven speaks portuguesed (the new titans annual #5)

tim understands only a little cantonese (robin 176). tim speaks spanish (red robin #1) presumably some german but not  fluently in red robin 3 (mistakes "you have skill, little man. you amuse me" as "he just called me a clown baby")

barry allen speaks russian (the flash 1987 #19 - flashback)

zinda speaks pashto (birds of prey 112)

diana (wonder woman) speaks russian (wonder woman 1986 #25). ww 30 she speaks what the text refers to as “egyptian” i am going to assume egyptian arabic

wally does not speak russian, but does have a tranceiver hooked up to a ‘dome translation computer’ (the flash #7)

batman: bane of the demon: talia and ra’s speak dhari, urdu, farsi

[lulaypp]

Snow Turned Avalanche And Maybe Something Worse - Alternate Chapter 3

-

Read The Full Fanfiction

A/N: This was my original idea for the chapter three that I scraped due to story flow. But i liked it a lot and it has Damian so I am throwing it here. Have fun <3

Oh. And I have a small bit where Damian calls Jason 'Bhai'. If I'm not mistaken, it is brother in urdu and I have a headcanon that that is what Damian calls Jason. Sorry if that causes any confusion or inconvinience.

Warnings for: Non-Graphic Referenced Torture, Light Mentions of Injuries and Bits of Flashbacks

--

There was something wrapped around his left hand and rubbing against his knuckles. It was a comforting, even if a bit odd, sensation to wake up to, the lulling strokes almost pulling him back under. However, a hissing sound and constant beeping didn't allow it. They were loud. And with it came the pain from seemingly everywhere. His chest most prominently, as it twinge with every breath, and his head and leg tied at second.

"Jason? Are you awake?" Deep. Warm. Bruce.

Turning to his left, Jason peeled open his eyes slightly to see the blurry figure of his father beside him.

"How are you feeling, lad?"

Horrible, he wanted to reply. But it came out weak and incoherent around the mask still covering his mouth, so he merely shook his head, fumbling to hold the fingers around his. The world around him cleared slightly and he could see the Cave's med bay around them.

"I'm sorry. We couldn't figure out what works for you. Your body seemed to override any painkillers we tried."

"'s fine..." he forced out. "Used to it."

A knit of a frown creased his father's brows. "...What do you mean?" He sounded hesitant, concerned.

Jason couldn't find the energy to shrug. "Pain... Used to it. 'nerally sleep i' off... Works fine..."

Bruce's lips were pressed in a firm line before a the man sighed. "Why didn't you call for back up?" Jason's confusion must have shown as he added, "When you tackled Avalanche's gang alone last week. You only used the beacon." 'Which are meant for emergencies'

It all flashed through his mind. Jumping into a dark factory. Trying to collect any information he could find on the gang. Finding out that it was actually a trap. Attempting to take down as many henchmen as possible while trying to escape. Something swinging repeatedly into his head. Waking up to total darkness. The crowbar. The knife. The stun gun. The water.

Jason closed his eyes against the tiding memories, the hand around his squeezing when the heart monitor echoed his racing heart. He squeezed his eyes shut and sucked in a breath, the sound loud around the mask supplying him with oxygen.

He distantly heard Bruce talking, half-yelling, over the screeching of the crowbar and the constant splash of water.

Despite the sharp pain searing his chest, he forcefully slowed down and evened out his breathing, counting seconds in his head, until he could feel something gently running through his hair and the voice grew clearer. He suddenly felt drained as he opened his eyes again to meet Bruce's.

"You're back with me, Jaylad?"

Moving felt like too much work but he slowly nodded, lingering panic still fluttering in his chest, evident by the brisked-paced beeps of the heart monitor. The throb in his leg felt more prominent than before, the memory of the crowbar smashing into it echoing throughout the probably-broken bone.

Remembering Bruce question, he did his best to say, "Ambushed. Didn't have time," but it came out muffled and weak.

But Bruce seemed to have understood, a slight relief settling in his eyes. "But you know that we would come to help if you call us, right?"

Jason hesitated. He... knew. Rationally. He rationally knew that his family would and he even had past experiences to back it up. But a haunting, looming shadow would always hiss and whisper that they might not. Maybe this one time they decided to just abandon him. To leave him behind. He also knew why Bruce was asking him that. "You came," he had said in his momentary moment of weakness, his mind still scattered and vulnerable. And scared.

He nodded again, resisting the urge to shift slightly in an attempt to press harder against the hand in his hair.

"Know that," Bruce reaffirmed. "We would always try our best. We had tried to locate you as soon as Cass arrived at the factory and told us that you were missing. And you we couldn't find you for four hours, Jay."

The world grew fuzzy but Jason clamp it all down. He had assumed that it had been some hours, but actually knowing, getting a confirmation, that he was caught for that long...

"We were so worried. And by the time we managed to get you here, you weren't breathing. I nearly lost you." Again.

Ignoring the pain in his wrist, Jason moved his hand to hold Bruce's, hoping to assure his father. To tell his dad that he was still here, that his dad hadn't lost him again.

He whined softly when Bruce's fingers disappeared from his hair and saw that the man was looking at the other side of the room.

"Is he awake?" a quiet, young voice suddenly asked hesitantly. Damian?

"He is," Bruce replied. "Come here."

Jason did the tedious work of turning to the right and sure enough, there was his youngest brother, settling himself between the bed and a chair. He didn't try speaking, knowing that sounds didn't seem to come out as he wanted them to and he didn't want to make Damian felt like he was weaker than he actually was. So he mouthed a silent "Hey, Baby Bat."

The perpetual scowl lessen slightly and Damian spoke with a nod, "Todd." For a moment, he fidgets ever so slightly, a mist of hesitance and uncertainty crossing over his eyes. "...You seem better." Are you alright?

Jason gave a slight nod. He... would be alright. A lot pained maybe, but he had worst, he'll live. Damian didn't seem to believe him and he honestly would have rolled his eyes if his energy wasn't so sparse right now.

Damian's eyes flickered up, to Bruce probably, before going back down to him, still uncertain.

Jason remembered then that Damian had been there with Bruce and Cass when he was saved. And if Jason had... apparently stopped breathing on the way back... that meant Damian was there...

He internally cursed. No wonder the kid was acting this way. Damian had to see his elder brother nearly die. Despite knowing that he has no control over the situation, Jason felt a sinking sense of guilt. The kid had seen enough deaths and near-deaths situations in his life.

Dick once told Jason that, whenever Damian gets worried over someone, he gets comfort from being able to take care and cuddle with said person and stay with them. Jason had found that funny because it sounded like a fusion of Bruce and Dick. Right now he was just happy that Dick liked to share random sibling facts.

He twitched his right hand to pat on the matress.

Damian seemed momentarily confused, but years spent around Dick had probably familiarised him with the silent gesture, as he frowned. "You're hurt." I'll hurt you even more if I do that.

This time Jason did rolled his eyes and shook his head. "No, you won't," he mouthed.

"But I don't need..."

"I want to," he retorted, even though he honestly didn't but there wasn't any harm in both, the lie and a cuddle. "Please?"

Damian glanced up to their father again, probably to make sure that Jason wouldn't die just because of a mere cuddle (and everyone said that he was always being dramatic) before he shuffled closer and onto the bed. Once he had pressed close, Jason moved his head to press against Damian's, who, much to Jason's delight, gingerly started to card his fingers through his hair.

Just when he felt his eyes getting heavier, the weight around his left hand disappeared and he couldn't stop the whine from leaving as he saw Bruce getting up.

"Get some rest, Jay." Bruce seemed to hesitate for a moment before pressing a kiss into Jason's hair.

"Don't go," Jason tried to say.

"I'm sorry, lad. I need to go and check on your siblings, alright? I'll be back as soon as I can."

He could only watch and Bruce left the room before the body pressed against him shifted to sit up slightly, one hand still stroking his bangs. "Father's right, Todd. You need to rest if you were to get better."

He turned his tired eyes to meet the greens. "Brat."

Damian's mouth quirked up ever so slightly but a scowl was pressed against it. Before a glitter of mischief sparkled in his eyes. "You're like a cat."

Raising an eyebrow was exhausting, but Jason did it anyway.

"You like it when someone strokes your hair, you can be dramatic, your hair have two colours, and you are always causing trouble or throwing yourself into one."

He would have scoffed if he had the energy to. He felt himself more of a hyena most of the time; scavangers, said to be horrendous whether or not they are; and tried to tell Damian so.

"Hyenas are rather close to cats. And striped hyenas do share a lot of similarities with cats, behaviour-wise. So you can be a striped hyena, it would go with your hair. And how people always think that you are a heartless lunatic."

Jason listened to his youngest brother talk; about hyenas and the few different kinds, how they are always labelled as canine by the public despite the fact that they are not, the simmilarities they have with cats and Jason; until he eventually his eyes closed.

"Rest well, bhai." I'm glad to know that you are alright.

[frostline]

The Market

The market came into town yesterday right where there was no room for it to be. On Wednesday the sun set on the Old Grove Shopping Center as it always had—its fast-food restaurants, its endless rotation of run-down niche stores, its abandoned storefronts—and by Thursday morning it was twice as big. Between the old dentist’s office and the third nail salon to try its luck in as many years stood what looked like an old hotel building: pale brick, a grid of balconied windows, twice as tall as anything around it for miles. On its roof, oversized red neon letters spelled the word MARKET.

We were waiting for Haniya, whose inability to make an appearance on time we had long grown accustomed to. Maria and Jordan sat in the back of Aaron’s old duct-taped hatchback, Maria absentmindedly swinging her legs and Jordan tapping out a rhythm on the asphalt with his cane. Aaron frowned suspiciously at a middle-aged couple standing hesitantly outside the market entrance. Uncertainty before the market was a sign of poor character in our group.

Haniya arrived in resolute silence. She clutched a gold necklace with a small lock hanging from the end. We could only assume it was her mother’s. She held her head high and glared at each of us in turn, daring us to say anything.

“So it’s that time?” Maria asked.

Haniya’s gaze lost its hard edge. “That time,” she said. “It’s heavier than it used to be.”

We nodded and walked towards the market.

The inside of the market was a single vast room that stretched upward and disappeared into darkness above. The cavernous space was filled with marvels. There were small wooden carvings that danced in circles and fabrics with changing patterns. There were floating lights and bells that chirped like birds, a camera that took pictures in a different time, a flute that played itself, and a violin that didn’t play at all but made us all weep when Maria plucked it. Jordan found a door that refused to open. Haniya amused herself greatly with a small potted plant that swore in Urdu.

And then there were the curators.

At least twelve feet tall, they each wore dark robes that pooled like shadows along the floor and adorned themselves with masks carved of wood and bone and bronze. Some wore strands of beads hanging from their masks, while others wore metal chains or feathers.

Although like children we were, we always stepped with care. We always returned everything to its proper place, always addressed the curators with kindness and respect.

There was only a single truth in the market. It was a truth that was passed on from mother to child, that old men told in gruff stories, that strangers whispered to each other in reverence and fear.

The market was built for you, but always remember you are its guest.

Those who forgot never came back twice, and they never left the same.

Aaron eventually bought a book full of sounds and a small floating glass light for himself and Jordan. He handed a few bills to a curator in a bronze mask of a crying woman with small bells hanging from her antlers. The curator nodded and gave them each a dollar coin from New Zealand in return.

Haniya held out her necklace to a curator in an ivory mask carved into two faces, one right side up, the other upside down above it. The curator knelt next to her, and when it spoke it sounded like church bells and felt like coming home. Haniya smiled more brightly than she had in a long time and left the necklace behind in exchange for the belligerent plant.

We all thanked the curators as we left. Aaron bowed. Maria put her hand on Haniya’s shoulder as we walked to the car. Jordan’s bauble of light followed us as we left, and Aaron wondered if he had accidentally bought a ghost.

“Next time,” he said, “if you need attention that bad, we’ll just get a dog. Less chance of it knocking my new mug off the counter trying to talk to us.”

By the next morning, the market was gone.

[wandering-----wonderings]

A glimpse inside everyones favorite hyperpolyglot, Sydney Bristow. (Yes, I childishly cut Danny out of the picture because I prefer Sydney with Noah, but I like this picture, so there you go.)

Let's start this off with a quick quote from Recruited: I speak five languages (six if you count pig latin. From Shadowed, we also know this: for SD-6 agents, mastering five or six languages was the bare minimum. So right out of the gate, before she even starts working at SD-6, she's already met the 'bare minimum' requirement. Sort of; I'm not sure if SD-6 would count English - or pig latin for that matter.

My current wondering is: what five languages (six including pig latin) did she know before starting SD-6? English would be 1, obviously, and Pig Latin would make two. I'm assuming she's counting her Spanish and Mandarin college electives when she said that (unless she already spoke those languages and just took them as electives to get more of a background on them), so that would be 3 and 4. So what were 5 and 6?

Truthfully, I have no idea. Wikipedia has a list of her speaking 30 languages: English, Russian, German, Greek, Dutch, French, Italian, Spanish, Portuguese, Norwegian, Swedish, Romanian, Hungarian, Hebrew, Uzbek, Arabic, Persian, Urdu, Indonesian, Cantonese, Mandarin, Japanese, Korean, Hindi, Vietnamese, Polish, Serbian, Czech, Ukrainian, and Bulgarian.

Now this is completely a supposition, but the Wikipedia list doesn't mention Latin - it doesn't mention pig latin, either - but I would think that one of the languages she knew before coming into SD-6 would be Latin; it just ... sorta seems like it would be the first language she would learn with her being as studious as she is since, while being considered a dead language, it's still quite present in today's world, especially in the sciences. So my guess for language-number-5 would be Latin.

The sixth language is more of a long-shot. Seriously. In the pilot episode, in the SD-6 briefing room, we hear this:

Sydney: ''What is that? Hieratic?'' Sloane: ''Good try. That's what I thought. Actually, it's demotic. Taking notes in ancient languages was just one of Muller's quirks.''

A quick Google search showed this:

Now, she obviously doesn't know Hieratic or Demotic, otherwise she would've been able to translate right off. However, she was able to recognize it. So my theory is that she either learned the 'parent language' or one of the other 'child languages'. None of them are on the Wikipedia list. Most kids are interested in hieroglyphics but usually not enough to actually learn them (at least, such was the case with me), but I think we can all agree that when it comes to languages Sydney is a bit different - in a good way. So my long-shot-of-a-guess is that her 6th language is 'Egyptian'. Granted, she'd been at the agency for about seven years when we see her in the pilot episode so she could have learned it within that time.

Now that we've done that, let's review her language history in the books (at least, all of the one that I can remember off the top of my head). (I don't think she spoke in anything but English in Sister Spy, Father Figure or Skin Deep, but I may be wrong.)

Recruited: she's taking Spanish and Mandarin as electives, and she also says that she can speak a total of six languages (prior to being recruited)(see above). Spanish is also used later in the book. A Secret Life: she's was trying to teach herself Russian. French was used in this book, but she couldn't understand it. Disappeared: she had to learn Romanian (which she was distracted and didn't do too well at, but I assume she went back and learned it properly later). She also states that after the events in A Secret Life, she came back to L.A. and learned French as if her life depended on it. Free Fall: had her brushing up on one of her ''better languages'' - French. She was also able to translate an one-sided phone conversation she was eavesdropping on, from Russian. Infiltration: her Russian is described as amazing (and at times she'd been ahead of her SD-6 tutor), she says the Romance languages had been easy to learn (I haven't got a clear answer as to how many there are), Japanese took an impossible amount of concentration, and says it was difficult to keep the Oriental languages straight when she threw Cantonese and Mandarin into the mix (which, she should have already knew a fair bit of Mandarin since, as stated above, it was one of her electives). Vanishing Act: speaks in 'flawless' Dutch. (Also, she asks a woman working in a bookstore if she has any first additions of Chekhov, and when the woman ask if she wants it in English [the book], Sydney says she wants it in Lithuanian. This doesn't necessarily mean she speaks Lithuanian since it was a code phrase and it's not listed in her Wikipedia languages, but maybe she learned at some point.) Shadowed: she had recently brushed up on her Greek, and had learned German at some point.

Think about that for a minute. Did you catch what I did? She was recruited in the fall of her freshman year (a few weeks into the school year) and Free Fall says this happened in September. Shadowed itself happens in October of her sophomore year. Which means, Sydney learned 11+ languages in a year. So, aside from learning stuff for school, learning bank stuff (so she would be able to lie more efficiently to anyone who asked what she did on a daily basis for Credit Dauphine), and learning cool spy stuff and going on missions, she managed to cram in 11+ languages amidst carving out time for a social life with Francie (and a few dates with Noah) in one year's time. At the age of 19 and 20 years old. If you didn't think she was superwoman before, you should now.

Not to mention, that that's just the languages she speaks. While Sydney's trading card lists her languages as ''numerous'', she obviously knows a various amount of codes and ciphers as well; which, to me, counts as a language. We know she knows Morse code (2x18) from her mother's earrings, the Substitution cipher from when her dad encrypted her crossword puzzles (4x12), and Skip Sequencing Cypher Text (2x19) from when she was trying to get a message to Vaughn and an ever-helpful Weiss. That's just the ones I can remember right off, I'm sure she knows quite a few more.

As a side note, on Noah Hicks' trading card, it claims he only speaks three: English, French, and Russian. Oddly enough, the Russian was episode based while the French happened in the books - it's odd because I like to find what's different between the show and novels, but that's something that lines up. I'm sure he knows more languages - as it's said, five or six was the minimum - but it's not stated in the novels, the show, his Wiki page, or his trading card.

((Update: Ok, so two things. One, one the back of her season 3 trading card, it has one of Sydney’s languages as Taiwanese, so I guess that bumps her (known) total to 31 languages. Secondly, I did forget about a language from Vanishing Act; ''... a circle filled with words in what Sydney immediately recognized as Latin.'' Now again, it said she recognized it and not knew it (though, that’s probably the same thing for her), but I feel it’s further evidence supporting my theory.))

[rezathevamp-blog]

Losing Soulmates || Reza&Noah

time and hearts will wear us thin, so which path will you take, cause we both know a break does exactly what it says on the tin

One final phone call

Clutching the phone between numb fingers, Reza half expected Noah to not pick up. Almost hoped it, too, because what the fuck could he even say at this point? Was there anything that could make this better? It probably wasn't begging Noah to talk to him on the phone while his throat still felt fucking raw. "Hey," he breathed out as soon as the dial tone was replaced with silence and quiet breathing. "Look, I wish I knew the right thing to say and maybe there isn't even a right thing to say here but... fuck, there's got to be something I can do, right? I don't..." he swallowed thickly to try and hide the voice crack, "I don't want to lose you."

Standing there looking at his phone as it vibrated softly on his bedspread Noah took a deep breath. Because while he put on a brave mask, and talked an angry game, he knew the second he heard Reza’s voice he was just going to fall apart. Piece by broken piece. Sliding the lock button Noah put the phone tentatively to his ear, steeling himself against Reza’s voice. The other boy was upset, and on the verge of tears. It was definitely obvious by the way he talked. But in the end Noah just listened vowing to give Reza his full ten minutes even though he already knew what the outcome of this phone call would be “I don’t” Noah started trying to gather the right words. Something that would be truthful but not too harsh or cause him to start crying… which he was loathe to admit but very liable to do right now “I don’t want to lose you either Reza. But healthy relationship can’t be one sided. And before you say, I’ll change for you, that’s not what a healthy relationship is either Rez and you know it. These things- they have to come from the heart. You have to want to share. And I get it. Trust me. It took me a long fucking time to even be comfortable saying the shit I do about myself, and my life. But I just. I know what I need” The last sentence was barely a whisper, the wetness already lurking at the corners of the older boy’s eyes.

The soft voice on the other end of the line was a surprise. Reza had expected the same stoic tone he'd been left with back at the apartment last night, something to match his curt and angry replies online, but there was just steely pain. Pain that easily transferred to Reza as well with the words spoken. And it was almost hilarious, Noah assuming that the vampire had any sort of knowledge about the workings of a 'healthy relationship', but he supposed he knew that Noah chugging down a beer in pain wasn't a sign of one. And maybe Reza worrying about him finding out about his past every other day wasn't the best, either. Noah making him happy was a selfish notion that Reza had clung onto for way too long now. "I do want to share," he choked out, despite the sensible part of his brain telling him that this conversation was useless. Noah's whisper was all the confirmation he needed but the desperate arguments just slipped out. It was like autopilot, clawing at anything that meant he wouldn't be alone. "I can be what you need, it's not a change just... I'll just be better and... Fuck..." he sighed angrily, wiping away the tears creeping up. "Sorry, this isn't..." Brain tugging in every direction, he found himself lost for words.

“Reza” Noah said gently into the phone, his need to comfort outweighing the rest of his emotions. He was still angry and upset and deep down, but he didn’t actually want to make Reza’s suffer, the younger boy’s voice already practically trembling with every syllable. “You know that saying these things, is just-just trying to put a bandaid on the inevitable at this point. Its.-” Noah paused trying to find the words, sniffing a bit to keep that dam wetness at the corner of his eyes at bay. And noah hated this with every fiber of his being right now, having to be logical and rational when he just wanted to say fuck it and let Reza have it. But purposefully hurting reza wouldn’t make his own pain lessen. No Noah knew from experience that only time would do that. Time and Distance “It’s not that we can’t come back together in the future or some shit. But. If we’re going to make this work, we both need some time.”

Noah's gentle tone guided Reza away from the gaping, dark hole of anxiety and self pity, allowing him to take a small step back and actually listen to what he was saying. The way he was practically manipulating Noah into staying, a few ill spoken words away from guilt tripping him into a relationship. It was less deliberate but just as shit as what had been done to Reza back in the day. "I... I know," he whispered back, hand gripping the phone like a lifeline, lest he slip back into begging Noah to stay somewhere he clearly didn't want to stay. He pushed past the brutal sting in his chest at the thought, hanging onto Noah's very weak promise of the future. A lot of things could happen over 'time'. His stomach clenched at the thought of all the people that could be or become the right person for Noah during this 'time.' But that didn't matter. Or it couldn't matter. "Okay. I... If that's what you need then it's... it's for the best." He knew his voice was dull, hardly believable, but it was the best he could do at this point. Just recycled lines from every break up scenario ever. Because that's what this was, no matter how badly his brain wanted to ignore that fact.

Listening to the shift in Reza’s tone Noah frowned slightly. He had expected more begging from the other boy, especially after how this whole thing had started. But it seemed like… maybe Reza also knew that they were broken? Not irreparable, but enough to hurt. Sitting down Noah just let the silence of the moment wash over not exactly knowing what to say next. Because endings were always the most difficult weren’t they. “Reza, even though we are going to be on a break what i said last night still stands.” Noah’s voice was barely more than a whisper at this point. Because he’d never said what came next to any other significant other before, let alone his first male one. ”I m-may not,” Shit. He was crying now, the reality of the situation finally sinking in.While he knew this was for the best Noah desperately didn’t want this to end. He didn’t want Reza to disappear from his life again even if this time it was Noah’s own making. Wiping the back of his hand across his eyes though he soldiered on, knowing what he was going to say next needed to be said. For Reza’s sake. “I-I may not be able not be there for you f-for a good while, but If you get into some shit and really need me call alright. Because you are o-ohana. Whether you are my boyfriend, or just my friend, or e-even just someone who comes to pet the dogs when I am away. You’re still ohana, and that parts not changing ok.”

The silence was deafening, to a point where the noises far away outside his apartment sounded loud. Noah finally spoke and Reza wasn't sure how reassuring the 'break' part was, even though it provided hope that Noah wasn't just bailing on this relationship to find something better. Someone better. Wishing more than anything that this shit wasn't happening over the phone, that he at least had Noah's presence to make everything slightly better despite the situation, Reza's eyes closed. He could see him now, the way his breath caught with the tears and Reza's face was just as wet as he imagined Noah's to be. The way everything was slowly sinking in as Noah spoke, Reza's chest feeling tighter and tighter, was harrowing. "Okay," he just barely managed to choke out, shivers wracking his body. It took everything in him to let this happen, to not bite and claw his way forward in an attempt to keep Noah fully. God, did he want to. More than anything. "And same..." Reza sniffed, "same goes for you." Fuck, his chest felt ready to implode, whole body curling up in a protective attempt. "I think our ten minutes are almost up..." he breathed, eyes squeezed shut and praying that he could get the last words out without completely cracking. "Mein ap say muhabat karta hoon." And then he removed the phone from his ear, blindly hanging up to spare himself the hurt of Noah doing it. Body wracked with bittersweet sobs because a sensible part of his brain knew Noah was right, but the pain demanded to be felt for now.

And Noah knew he should have expected the click behind Reza’s words, the other boy still to fragile to do anything but run. But he was still mildly surprised when it happened, mind still trying to decipher the Urdu words Reza was whispering. Sitting there though Noah put down the phone silently a small wrecked sob pushing its way out of his chest. Fucking Noah Kalani had been kidnapped, he’d had a kidney transplant, he’d fucking lost his whole family. But somehow, this felt worse. This hurt so much worse. Probably because he had wanted it to work so fucking bad. He had wanted to love and be loved by reza so fucking bad. And the other probably barely even knew it. Slumping over Noah pulled his knees up to his chest trying to breathe through his tears, before a wet nose pressed its way onto his back. “Come here” he whispered patting a spot on his bed as Kea jumped up, nuzzling him affectionately before curling up next to him. And Noah didn’t know when he fell asleep, he just knew that eventually he did, his body fully clothed, the tears that streamed down his cheeks creating sticky patches on his cheeks when they finally dried.

[wahhhzooo]

a character who’s sure he’ll just be able to “sleep it off”… but he wakes feeling even worse

Vomit warning~ So heads up. 

Whump prompts: sleep edition 

I wrote Asifa and Emrick dynamic. Asifa has no clue that Emrick is a form changing Wyvern. 

“Emmy, you shouldn’t go to class today. It would probably be better to email the professor about a later date to do that presentation…” The soft, sweet tone of the young woman cooed the suggestion to the young man lying comfortably under the large, warm comforter. Her beige hands tangled in his brunette locks as a thumb reached over to softly rub the heated skin of Emrick’s cheek.

This morning, Emrick didn’t answer her texts about walking to the dining hall together, she just assumed since his lecture was later he took the time to sleep in a bit. Her steps were quick as she walked from her dorm to the dining hall if she didn’t hurry the line to get in would be long. As the young lady made her way to their usual table, she saw a lump of her boyfriend slumped against the table with his roommate/friend, Alwyn, next to him. To Asifa it seemed her stubborn boyfriend had caught the seasonal flu. She walked over and bugged him to go rest with her until his lecture.  Despite as much arguing and excuses he could use for a good twenty minutes,  she finally conceived him to rest in her dorm room until he had to go to his lecture.

She sat with her back pressed against the wall and her legs crossed. The purple pillow had been placed in her lap and Emrick, twisted onto his stomach, rested his head on the comfortable lump of fluff. A cheek was smushed against the fabric and the frizzy, dry dreads sprawled out over the pillow, hiding the purple case.

“‘Sifa…I’mb just a bit tired is all…Som’b sleep will go lon’gh way…Let mb’e sleep before class and I prom’biss I’ll be bed’er.” The Pakistani man tried to convince his ever so caring and loving girlfriend that he was indeed more tired than actually symptomatic. Emrick felt exhausted, his bed was so uncomfortable the night before and no amount of water helped soothe his dry throat. As anyone could tell from his speech, he was stuffy, but he simply assumed that it was due to the way he was laying at the moment.

Asifa was far from convinced, but if he wished to be stubborn he was the only one going to suffer at the end of the day. Her curly bangs fell into her face as she angled her head to aim her look of skepticism at the man, and then her soft hands came up and she pulled her hair back into a comfortable, loose ponytail to keep it out of her face for the time being.

“Fine, Em’.” Was all the human girl said to the (unknown to Asifa) Wyvern before going quiet. She watched his hazel eyes blink close and he slowly drifted to sleep. Asifa thought he looked adorable with his mouth hung open and soft snores filling the room, but she grew a bit restless and used her phone to distract her from interrupting Emrick’s rest.

A few hours of undisturbed rest later Emrick slowly became aware of the feeling of his stomach churning uncomfortably, yet he wasn’t fully awake just yet. He shifted and adjusted to hopefully find a comfortable spot that would soothe his upset stomach, but he only felt his the pit of his stomach drop and a hot feeling rise up. Oh no.

“میں بیمار محسوس کرتے ہیں ۔ (I feel sick…)” The young man uttered in Urdu before he rolled off the bed and onto his feet. He moved without thought, entering the bathroom, lifting the toilet seat and retching into the water. Asifa had been caught off guard when Emrick stood up and ran into the bathroom. She waited a few moments for his heaves to calm before she stood up and walked over to the door way.

“كيا حال ہے (How are you?)” Asifa asked softly, trying not to enter the bathroom until the fit was over. Her poor Emmy didn’t even feel well enough to speak in English, to make it less stressful she spoke Urdu in return so he didn’t have to wrack his jumbled, feverish brain to translate.

“ں قے کی.  درد اچانک شروع ہوا ۔ میں تھکا ہوا محسوس کرتے ہیں. ۔ (I vomited….The pain started suddenly…I feel tired…)” Came his response in a soft groan, he curled up on the tile floor. It was so cold, why was the floor so cold? He wanted heat and now. “مجھے سردی محسوس کرتے ہیںآصف  (Asifa, I feel cold…)”

The young Pakistani woman opened the door slowly and stepped in. A putrid smell filled the bathroom, it was burning her nose and throat, she had to cover her mouth and nose with the collar of her shirt. Her gaze fell onto the larger statured man lying in a ball on the floor, a pang struck her chest and she kneeled down to Emrick.

“Oh, Emrick, c’mon back to bed. The bed is warm and comfortable.” Just then her eye caught the thick, yellow bile in the toilet. It looked like it was distorting the porcelain, but she summed it up to her weariness of vomit having her see things. Careful and slow, she helped Emrick up to his feet and led him back to bed. Asifa let him find a comfortable spot before she slid under the blanket and laid with him, wrapping her arms around his waist. After lying there, close and warm she felt his breathing even out and his features relax. She would email his professor from his phone in a bit once she was sure he was going to stay sleeping.

[ericfruits]

Seventy years of Indo-Pakistani enmity

YOUNGER INDIANS AND Pakistanis tend to assume their countries were born enemies. Only the old recall that until their teenage years they were quite friendly. Ties of kinship were strong. India and Pakistan had inherited the same laws and institutions, and both were poor, multilingual and multi-ethnic. Their elites shared similar aspirations and spoke the same language, English, in addition to others that spanned the border, such as Urdu and Punjabi.

Pakistan’s gaunt, chain-smoking founding father, Muhammad Ali Jinnah, insisted that Muslims constitute a separate nation, but envisioned a secular state. He was no Sunni majoritarian. The Jinnah family were Ismailis, a subsect of Islam’s smaller Shia branch. His foreign minister was an Ahmadi, another small sect that some Muslims regard as heretical. His law minister was a Hindu, and both his second wife and his personal doctor were Zoroastrians. Jinnah owned a luxurious mansion in Bombay, where he spent most of his youth and career.

In the 1950s India and Pakistan amicably settled the tricky problem of properties abandoned by millions of refugees. In 1960 they signed a complex deal to share the waters of the Indus river, Pakistan’s lifeline; it has stuck ever since. Pakistan’s national cricket team toured India in 1952 and 1960-61; the Indian one went to Pakistan in 1954-55. Until 1965 citizens of either country who wanted to visit the other could get visas on arrival.

There are many reasons why the ungainly twins drifted apart. In the initial division of spoils, India got more of the money. It also got land that Pakistan laid claim to. The big, rich princely state of Hyderabad and the tiny one of Junagadh had Muslim rulers but mostly Hindu subjects, and they were a long way from the rest of Pakistan, so India annexed them. Jammu and Kashmir presented the opposite problem: a Hindu ruler with mostly Muslim subjects. In late 1947 Pakistan sent guerrilla fighters to stir a Muslim uprising. The Maharaja invited Indian troops who ejected the intruders. The territory has been a bone of contention ever since (see article).

As the two countries matured, their political systems diverged. “They got the generals, we got the bureaucrats,” is how Indian wits put it. With a single brief interruption, India has sustained a noisy, wobbly and messy democracy. Its elected leaders, backed up by a powerful civil service and buffered by the sheer size and diversity of the country, have kept the army in check. Not so Pakistan.

The British Raj recruited hardest among the supposedly “martial races” of northern India, and deployed soldiers most heavily on the troubled Afghan frontier. So Pakistan, with a fifth of India’s population at partition, inherited 30% of the Indian army, 40% of the navy and 20% of the air force. Military spending ate up three-quarters of Pakistan’s first budget in 1948, notes Husain Haqqani, a Pakistani diplomat and author. The share has dropped, but Pakistan still has an oversized, pampered army.

Split in two, with the bulk of India in the middle, in the 1950s the country felt vulnerable. It was not surprising that Pakistan should fall into the cold-war embrace of America, which showered it with surplus weaponry from the Korean war. But the bonanza made the generals overconfident. In 1958 they toppled the civilian government. They began to dream of gaining full strategic parity with their much larger neighbour, but they lacked public backing for bigger spending and indefinite military rule. This they achieved by setting up India as a threat to the nation. In 1965 Pakistan again sent guerrillas into Kashmir. India struck back across the international border farther south. After some weeks of fighting both countries signed a truce. Pakistan gained nothing, but its army had proved that India was indeed an existential danger.

Five years later East Pakistan was growing restless. As a small guerrilla campaign grew in strength, with covert Indian help, Pakistan’s army launched a counter-insurgency so brutal and indiscriminate that it provoked a far bigger uprising. India formally entered the conflict in December 1971. In just 13 days its army, with the Bengali rebels, defeated Pakistan and took 90,000 prisoners. Bangladesh had won its independence.

The Bangladesh debacle carried the disgraced Pakistani army out of power, but only until the next military coup, in 1977. For his first two years in power General Muhammad Zia ul-Haq remained an international outcast. But when Russia invaded Afghanistan at the end of 1979, Pakistan gained an avalanche of aid from America and its allies, particularly Saudi Arabia.

General Zia tilted Pakistan sharply away from Jinnah’s dreamy secularism. Yet in many ways his embrace of conservative Sunni orthodoxy reflected tensions inherent in Pakistan’s “Islamic” identity. Even before he imposed a panoply of sharia punishments, Pakistan was renamed as an Islamic Republic in 1956, the Ahmadi minority was officially branded as non-Muslims in 1974, and alcohol was banned in 1977.

General Zia died in a mysterious plane crash in 1988, the year the Soviet Union withdrew from Afghanistan. But although Pakistan nominally returned to civilian rule, there was no real oversight over the sprawling military establishment. The army’s influence and the tentacles of the intelligence apparatus reached into the press, the courts, universities and private business. Bolstered by continued American support, the Pakistani army has been free to indulge its obsession with India ever since.

                                                           This article appeared in the Special report section of the print edition under the headline "Post-partum depression"

http://ift.tt/2tiNVJB

[herguard-tye-blog]

لپسٹک // Self-Para (ft. Jay)

Tye waited patiently for his brother outside of the Slytherin common room. He knew that his brother was in trouble. The boy hadn't spoken to Tye in months and worse, he was looking vaguely more black and blue every time Tye saw him. It was Tye's instinct to protect those he cared about, and further than that, it was his instinct to protect his little brother. Tye understood his role as the patriarch of the family after his father died, but he wished that his brother would make his job just a little bit easier.

Before their dad's death, Jay and Tye were close. In fact, they were closer than close. They were best friends. Jay looked up to Tye and Tye constantly tried to prove that he was worth the adoration Jay gave him. But perhaps it wasn't the death of their father that had triggered their distance. Once Jay came to Hogwarts Jay didn't see his brother as this powerful gift to man kind. Tye was just Tye, as he always was. So as Jay's adoration slipped away, Tye's motivation did too and Tye became apathetic to everything except protecting his brother.

"Jay!" Tye called out running after his brother as he emerged from the common room. But Jay wanted nothing to do with Tye and kept on walking. Unlucky for Jay perhaps, Tye was persistent. "Jay, what the hell, come back. I just want to talk."

Jay, being Jay, flipped off his brother and lifted his hood over his head. "Fuck off Tye." His brother said, his voice cracking as he spoke.

Tye was growing frustrated. "I said, come back here now."

Jay stopped in his tracks, but he didn't turn around. "You aren't والد صاحب," (dad) Jay said in Urdu, the language his mother spoke exclusively. Both of them were bilingual, but it was rare for them to speak a mix of it. Particularly to each other. That was something their father did when he was mad. But, Jay was right, Tye was not his father. Tye stopped in his tracks and took a deep breath.

"I'm not, and you're not mum, so drop the urdu."

"یہ آپ کو پاگل کر دیتا ہے؟" (Does it make you mad?) Jay didn't turn around as he spoke which made Tye only more upset.

"نہیں," (No) Tye said, giving in and speaking with him. "I am not dad, though, so I'm not going to yell at you in Urdu. That's not fucking fair."

"Then STOP FUCKING ACTING LIKE HIM," Jay yelled, still not turning around.

Tye was silent, just for a moment. "Please, talk to me, Jay. I just want to be sure you're alright."

Jay didn't turn around, though. Instead, he seemed to be wiping his face.

"Jay..." Tye said approaching him, grabbing his shoulder and forcing him to turn. As Tye did that, though, Jay swiveled back quickly, not letting his brother see his face. What Tye did see was just a brief glimpse. Jay's mouth and lips were bright red from something, Tye assumed it was blood, and his eyes... Tye swore they looked black and blue.

"I told you just to leave me the fuck alone. Go back to your girlfriend or whatever. You already are a possessive creep over her."

Tye tried to keep calm; his brother was clearly injured in someway. His words through Tye off though. Jay knew about his job.

"I'm not a fucking possessive creep," He said insulted. "You know that's my job. You KNOW I get paid. I'm the reason you can hide in that ratty hood and still go to school." Tye sighed, "You're clearly injured Jay, just let me-"

"What I'm supposed to THANK you for this shit? No. Tye, people think you are that girls abusive ass girlfriend. You don't do fucking shit all day, just fucking follow her around 24 fucking 7. You think that fucking helps my reputation?" As Jay's voice got louder, it got higher, and continued to break. "Get a fucking hobby or something and stop clinging to me and your fucking "job" if that's what you fucking want to call her. You need a life."

Tye stood there helplessly listening to his brother yell at him. "Jay, please let me take y-"

"I'm FINE. Just leave me the hell alone for the first time in my fucking life."

Tye stood there and watched his brother walk off head down through a crowd of students. What the hell happened to Jay? More than that, who had Tye become?

[supervidyavinay]

It’s probably safe to assume that you have by now heard of the Galwan river. Its valley is one of the flashpoints of the ongoing high-altitude standoff between the Indian and Chinese forces.The river, which runs 80 km westwards from its origins in Karakoram range through Aksai Chin and east Ladakh to join the Shyok river, a significant tributary of the Indus, is deemed to be of strategic significance in this region, with simmering border tensions between India and China. The valley was also a flashpoint during the 1962 India-China war.It is named after Ghulam Rassul Galwan, a hardy Ladakhi adventurer and explorer who assisted many famed European explorers at the turn of the 19th century. He later brought alive that world — of treacherous expeditions through high Himalayas during The Great Game, as Russia and Britain jostled for dominance in the region — in the book Servant of Sahibs.He was also my great-grandfather.Born in 1878, Galwan either led or was part of numerous expeditions into Tibet, Yarkand (now in the Uygur Autonomous Region of Xinjiang, China), the Karakoram range, the Pamirs and other Central Asian regions — mostly through inhospitable geographies with altitudes ranging from 5,000 m to 7,000 m above the sea level and where temperature plunged to -30 degree Celsius in the winter. At that temperature, an inadequately clothed person develops hypothermia in 10 minutes.Galwan assisted and travelled with the legendary names of those times. In 1887, he travelled with Major HH Godwin-Austen, the English geologist who determined the height of K2, the world’s second tallest peak, also known as Mount Godwin-Austen. In 1892, he travelled with Charles Murray, the 7th Earl of Dunmore, on a trip thought to be a diplomatic or espionage mission. In 1890 and 1896, he travelled with Sir Francis Younghusband, the architect of the Anglo-Tibetan Treaty of 1904, which ensured long-term trade concessions for the British government. In 1913, he accompanied Italian zoologist Filippo de Filippi. These were just the better known among the expeditions of a man who appears to have been travelling nearly all of his relatively short life — he died at 47, in 1925.During the 1892 mission with Murray, the 7th Earl of Dunmore, the group had hit a wall of tall mountains and steep gorges with no possible way out. Galwan, a 14-year-old boy at the time, went ahead searching for a possible route out of the labyrinth. To the group’s surprise, the boy found a relatively easier passage through the ravines that helped the expedition to go ahead without much difficulty or any casualty. Impressed, Dunmore decided to name the newfound passage through the edge of the gurgling water the “Galwan Nullah”, according to Ladakhi historian Abdul Ghani Sheikh.“I have never heard of an instance of naming of major geographical feature after a native explorer. British names have been given but never heard of one being named after a local,” says Harish Kapadia, mountaineer, author and long-time editor of the Himalayan Journal.The Ladakh of those days was a landscape stricken with poverty. Galwan was forced to go on risky, long-distance expeditions when he was just 12, to supplement the meagre and inconsistent income of his single mother, a winnower. But the path he chose due to compulsion later became a passion and he never looked back even after his material circumstances improved.Starting out as a porter and pony man, he rose through the ranks to eventually become the aksakal or the chief assistant of the British joint commissioner at Leh.For about 35 years, he assisted or led expeditions with British, Italian and American explorers. He spoke the native Ladakhi, Turki and Urdu and had working knowledge of Kashmiri and Tibetan, according to Ghani Sheikh. During the courses of his trips, Galwan also learnt English language and eventually wrote his autobiography. Ghani Sheikh reckons Galwan was probably the first person in the erstwhile state of Jammu and Kashmir to write an autobiography in English.“When he joined my husband, he had an English vocabulary of a dozen words, and therewith an ambition to write ‘the story of his happened’ in English,” Katherine Barrett, who edited the book, would write in the Editor’s Introduction. In a bid to increase his vocabulary, her husband, the American adventurer Robert Barrett, spoke to Galwan in his style of broken English, exchanged notes and gave him the King James Bible and a copy of a 17th century travel book to read. Galwan kept jotting down the experiences of his trips and about various sahibs on thin paper and kept shipping them to the American editor for more than a decade.“The thin sheets of manuscripts have been following us all over the world for fourteen years,” wrote Barrett. “Unintelligible early chapters have been sent back several times for rewriting. At last, Rassul has acquired a style with which we do not tamper.” The book, Servant of Sahibs: A Book to be Read Aloud, was finally published in 1923 by Cambridgebased W Heffer & Sons Ltd, with an introduction by Sir Francis Younghusband, then a British army officer who was dispatched by the British India government to gather intelligence on the strategic and trade routes of the Pamirs and Central Asia.During Galwan’s life, his homeland was part of the famed Silk Route, which was volatile (how some things never change), with different kingdoms and tribes trying to maintain their control over the lucrative paths, swarming with robbers.Galwan was born in Leh, possibly in 1878. He was raised by his single mother; both of them got by doing menial jobs and household chores for a government official. The book offers early glimpses of his doughty spirit. Once to protest being chided by his mother, he left home for a friend’s house, and walked defiantly for miles in the freezing winter, without shoes.During those days, Leh, the capital and principal town of Ladakh, was an important hub on the Silk Route, where traders from Kashmir, Punjab, Afghanistan, Tibet, China and Central Asia would congregate and barter their goods — teas to turbans, creams to carpets. The triangular town, situated at an altitude of 13,500 ft above sea level, was a melting pot of various ethnicities.Petty fights would often break out between them. In one such scuffle, Galwan and his friends were chased through the streets of Leh and were badly beaten by a group of Chinese traders and their aides, according to his autobiography.As he lay on the ground, Galwan recalled in his book, “I thought: ‘This people will kill to me.’” 76363896Dead Man WalkingThe same fear of being killed by the Chinese would be experienced by another member of my family seven decades later. This was when a hail of bullets from the People’s Liberation Army (PLA) rained down on a search party of Indian security forces in October 1959 near the Hot Springs check post near Aksai Chin, close to the Galwan river.In that patrol party was a 24-year-old recruited by the Intelligence Bureau — my father Abdul Majeed Bailay.Tensions were brewing between India and China that year. During the 1959 Tibetan Uprising, the Dalai Lama had fled to India in March and India had granted asylum to the Tibetan spiritual leader.On October 21, one of the three reconnaissance parties that had gone to the Hot Springs area did not return to the base. Sensing something amiss, a search team of about 20 members, comprising Central Reserve Police Force (CRPF) jawans and Intelligence Bureau (IB) men, including my father, went searching. At around noon, when the Indian search party was passing through ravines, looking for their lost colleagues, they were ambushed by the Chinese PLA forces. Bullets and grenades rained down from the PLA vantage on the high ridges. Despite their precarious positions and with their modest firearms, the Indian contingent fought bravely but 10 Indian lives were lost in the incident.My father was wounded but survived. The survivors were captured by the PLA, which made the hostages carry the bodies of their deceased colleagues back to the Chinese side. For more than a month, they were kept in underground bunkers. With no news from the border, my father was considered dead. My devastated grandmother performed his last rites as per Islamic rituals and local Ladakhi traditions.Then as part of an agreement after five weeks, China released the hostages and handed over the bodies of Indian jawans who died in the Hot Springs shootout.On a winter afternoon, children playing at Stalam, near the Leh Palace, saw an approaching party of security forces on horseback. When some of them recognised my father among the soldiers riding the horses, the children were stunned. Old-timers say the children ran scared, shouting, “ghost... ghost”, as he was believed to be dead.After that episode my father gained some notoriety in Leh as datlok, loose translation for “dead man walking”, in Ladakhi. He married Galwan’s eldest granddaughter (my mother) in the late 1960s.In 2018, a year before he passed away at the age of 84, my father and three other surviving members of the Hot Springs search party were honoured by Prime Minister Narendra Modi when he inaugurated the renovated National Police Memorial and Museum in New Delhi. The sacrifices made by the brave personnel of CRPF and IB at the Hot Springs in 1959 is remembered every year on October 21, observed as the National Police Commemoration Day.I grew up hearing the tales of my father’s hostage saga as well as the storied adventures of Galwan. The treks lasted months and ran through dangerous trails in gorges with the ever-present threat of snowstorms. While the European sahibs got mountains named after them, the porters and pony men did the backbreaking work. Poverty and lack of opportunities led many Ladakhi locals to take up dangerous jobs. Tours were so tough that many had to amputate all toes and fingers due to frostbites.But Galwan’s sacrifices bestowed good fortune on successive generations of his family. As Ladakh over the years became a highlight of the domestic tourism circuit, the land Galwan owned in and around Leh town became prime property and the clan produced a new breed of hoteliers.Whenever I build a modest hotel on the Galwan land I inherited in Leh, a friend suggested that I should name it after my greatgrandfather. But my uncle already runs an establishment across the road — Galwan Guest House. from Economic Times https://ift.tt/37rWRRP

[peaceofmind4lyfe]

See something, say something

I went to get my eyebrows done. Like most people, I prefer to stick with one person, but I have a problem. I tend to get too friendly. The therapist in me kicks in and next thing I know, I’m asking all these questions & listening to someone’s life story. What should be a five minutes in-n-out scheme turns into a half-hour soap opera.

So I tried a new place today. On Devon; a predominately South Asian community. Reminding myself to maintain boundaries. Repeating to myself: I’m only here to get my eyebrows done.

I walk in and wait my turn. I’m in a new environment. Makes me uneasy. I scan my surroundings. Next thing I know, a tall South Asian man comes to the front. He has visible cuts on his face. Small, almost inconspicuous. He greets me and walks away. A second later, a woman approaches me and I can’t help but notice her black-eye, cut lips, and bruised arms. She points to the seat and I sit down. I state what I want and she nods. She wears no expression on her face. She seems distant, even cold. Yet her touch is gentle. Threading is painful but she is quick and smart with her technique. She hands me the mirror after the first eyebrow is done. “Perfect.” I say out loud. No reaction. I need her to like me. I’m not sure why. Perhaps I need to get on her good side. Because I have something else in mind.

She gets called to the corner. The man speaks to her in a loud, almost harsh tone but not harsh enough for me to presume he’s the reason for her wounds. They are interacting with each other yet they seem disconnected. I need to know more.

She returns. I close my eyes as she works on my last eyebrow. My mind starts racing. What are you doing? You’re here to get your eyebrows done. Why are you getting involved? What if they were play fighting? What if this has nothing to do with him? What if he was trying to defend her? What if he’s not even her husband? Why are you always making this about your life? Not everything is going to be like it was with your parents. Relax. Stay out of it.

As my mind slows down, my mouth speeds up. I start asking questions. Do you own this place? Do you like your job? Do you work with that man? Is that man your husband? She whispers yes to all of it. The scientist in me does not have sufficient evidence to reach a conclusion but the spiritual entity in me intuitively does. The vibe is so strong. Something is so off. Deep down, I know what’s going on. I just don’t know what to do about it.

Let’s assume the worst. What could be keeping her in hell? “So do you have any children?” I ask. Silence. She hands me the mirror. I stall. Asking to do more work there. After another couple of bouts of silence, she whispers “I’m pregnant.” Normally, I would say congratulations. In this case, I just looked at her and said ‘that makes sense.’ It could be me, but she seemed relieved. I wonder how many South Asian women have sat in this chair seeing the condition she is in and instead of showing concern, they said “congratulations.” Further silencing and turning away victims of domestic violence.

As we finished up, I paid with credit card instead of cash. I need all the time left that I have. Luckily, she took my card and handed it to the man and he went to the back of the salon to process it. As he turned away, I quietly acknowledged her cuts /bruises and asked if she is okay… “oh yeah I was taking off my shirt and I got these cuts….” I was waiting to hear more but she ceased to speak. After waiting a couple more seconds, I broke the silence. 

I said to her, “I am a therapist. We therapists… when we see something we say something because we like to help people who might not know how to ask for help or do not know where to get it.” I handed her my phone and showed her the website for “Apna Ghar.” It means “Our Home” in Hindi/Urdu. I explained it’s a local safe-housing option for South Asian women who do not feel safe in their own home. I briefly mentioned their additional support services. Surprisingly, she let out a smile and said to me, “It’s so nice to meet you. What is your name? Can I have your number?” I provided her with my contact info right before her husband returned with my credit card. I gave her a wink and I thanked her for her services before heading out.

I haven’t heard from her yet but this just happened. Even if I do not hear from her at all, I’m sure it helped make a difference knowing that there are other options, resources, support services available to her. And if not even that, at least letting her know that someone cares. Someone saw what’s going on and spoke up.

[blograzorwit]

Jest A Minute from Subroto Mukherjee

Comic Relief-------------------- On a recent flight, a top TV comedian and a companion comedian got into such a rowdy row, the flight crew all but told these two OUT-STANDING comedians to go STAND OUT -- step out of the aircraft and not disturb the other passengers. Sure, these two stand-out comics provide plenty of COMIC RELIEF on prime time TV. But -- phew! -- it sure was a RELIEF to the passengers when these two quarreling COMICS finally shut up! *** Hogwarts or Hogwash?------------------------------------ Prashant Kishore, the poll wizard, had promised the Congress that he'd chant his abracadabra, wave his magic wand, perform his magic and pull at least 220 seats out of the top hat for the party in the UP polls. Ha, the claims of this wizard (who is straight from the Hogwarts School of Magic ) proved to be a load of hogwash! But hey, have no fears.  This wizard has now pulled off one magic trick with great success -- the disappearing act! No one can find him anywhere. He has vanished without a trace. Not that you can blame him for that. After all, Congress party men are hunting high and low for him, armed with hockey sticks! *** Dis-Concerting----------------------- The bright-eyed, bushy-tailed eager beaver, Justin Bieber, is coming to town to perform a concert. Well, given his kind of music, that's disconcerting. This toy-boy pop star might not have broken a new ground in music, though he might have broken some ear drums. And he might not have given a new direction to music but hey, we still welcome him for bringing his music in our direction. Here in Mumbai, starlet Jacqueline Fernandes will play the host to the Canadian teen sensatiom. She will escort him, play the tour guide, take him around town to the RIGHT PLACES and show him the RIGHT THINGS. And who better to do that than this starlet who has the all the RIGHT THINGS in the RIGHT PLACES! *** Late Realization------------------------ Why did ex-CM Akhilesh lose? Due to late realization. Poor Akhilesh gave away lakhs of laptops to students, only to realize -- TOO LATE -- that those students had not yet reached the voting age and could not vote for him. ***   And in the UP polls, Rahul-ji showed that he was born to politics and when it came to contesting elections, he was a natural. A natural disaster! *** Romeo, Romeo, Where Art Thou?------------------------------------------------- Way to go, Mr New UP CM Yogi Adityanath! No sooner did he assume the CM's chair than he began cracking the whip. Renewing efforts to clean up the state. Banning tobacco, paan, gutka and vices galore! Shutting down illegal abattoirs. And cracking down on road-side 'Romeos'. So girls are happy. Their parents are happy. Everyone is happy. Everyone, that is, except Shakespeare. The Bard must be turning in his grave and muttering in his beard, ruing the injustice of how we in India have reduced his noble lover-boy Romeo to a common, street-side eve-teaser! So, Romeo, Romeo, where art thou? Well, in UP at least, the cops of anti-Romeo squads have  driven poor Romeo into hiding in the loo! *** Indecent?------------------ I watched a bit of the new film on the renowned writer Saadat Hasan Manto. Did you know that Manto spoke 4 languages? Hindi, Urdu, English -- and profanity! *** Govinda's Run Away Hit----------------------------------- Govinda's new film has proved that he can still do anything with his feet -- dance any step. But then so can his audience. They too can do anything with their feet -- like using it to run away! You see Govinda's new film and you say -- yes, that's the way to make a film! But then you see the cinema audience and you say -- hey, where are you all rushing? That's the way to the exits! *** Firecracker!-------------------- Bipasha Basu might have nothing going for her anymore, no films, no work, no assignments worth mentioning. To all intents and purposes, her career has bombed. Heck, even the dude she has married is a dud, nothing to make a song and dance about. But hey, hold it. Bips is still Bips, OK? She is still a firecracker! You don't believe me? Here, try this. Just whisper the two words 'John Abraham' in her ear -- and see the way she explodes like a Diwali bomb! *** Exterminator---------------------- Arnold Schwarzenegger say he will not do any more Terminator movies. How disappointing for us die-hard fans. So what will he do? Sit at home and play the Exterminator -- swatting flies? *** Fairy-Tale Come True---------------------------------- Recently Dipa Karmakar got to meet her idol, the person she hero-worships -- Nadia Comaneci!A dream come true for our Dipa. Come to think of it, Dipa's life has been like a fairy-tale, in fact, the Cinderella fairy-tale. The only difference is this. Cinderella's pumpkin turned into a coach at midnight. But in Dipa's case, there was no pumpkin but she did have a coach -- a gymnastic coach Bisheswar Nandi -- who managed to send her to the Olympics.     ***          

[iammumblrrr]

CULTURAL HERITAGE

Uttar Pradesh in one of the most ancient cradles of Indian culture. While it is true that no Harappa and Mohan-Jodaro have been discovered in the State, the antiquities found in Banda (Bundelkhand), Mirzapur and Meerut link its History to early Stone Age and Harappan era. Chalk drawings or dark red drawings by primitive men are extensively found in the Vindhyan ranges of Mirzapur districts. Utensils of that age have also been discovered in Atranji-Khera, Kaushambi, Rajghat and Sonkh. Copper articles have been found in Kanpur, Unnao, Mirzapur, Mathura and advent of the Aryans in this State. It is most probable that snapped links between the Indus Valley and Vedic civilizations lie buried under the ruins of ancient sites found in this State.

Vedic Period

There is hardly any mention of the area comprising present Uttar Pradesh in Vedic hymns. Even the sacred rivers, the Ganga and Yamuna, appear only on the distance horizon of the land of the Aryans. In the later Vedic age, the importance of Sapta Sindhu recedes and Brahmarshi Desh or Madhya Desh assumes significance. The region comprising Uttar Pradesh at that time became a holy place of India and foremost center of Vedic culture and knowledge.

The new States of Kuru-Panchal, Kashi and Kosal find mention in late-Vedic texts as prominent centers of Vedic culture. The people of Kuru-Panchat were regarded as the best representatives of Vedic culture. They enjoyed great respect as outstanding orators of Sanskrit. The conduct of schools and institutions by them was laudable. The life of their kinds was a model for other kings and their Brahmins were held in high esteem for their piety and scholarship. The Upanishads prominently mention the Panchal Parishad. The scholars from Kuru-Panchal were specially visited by the Videsh king on the occasion of Ashwamedh Yajna. The Panchal king Pravahan Jaivali himself was a great thinker who was praised even by Brahmin scholars like Shilik, Dalabhya, Shvetketu and his father Uddalak Aruni. Ajatshatru of Kashi was another great-philosopher king whose superiority was acknowledged by Brahmin scholars like Dripti, Valhaki, Gargya etc., Literature in various disciplines was authored on an extensive scale during this age culminating in the Upanishads. They signify the highest reach of human imagination. The Upanishad literature was the product of meditation in the Ashrams of the sages, several of which were in Uttar Pradesh, Eminent sages like Bharadwaj, Yajnavalkya, Vashishta, Valmiki and Atri have either their Ashrams here or were otherwise connected with this State. Some Aranyans and Upanishads were, in written in the Ashrams located in this State.

Post-Vedic Period

The cultural heritage of Uttar pradesh was maintained in the period of the Ramayan and Mahabharat i.e. the epic period. The story of Ramayan revolves round the Ikshwaku dynasty of Kosal and of Mahabharat a round the 'Kuru' dynasty of Hastinapur. Local people firmly believe that the Ashram of Valmiki, the author of Ramayan, was in Brahmavart (Bithoor in Kanpur District) and it was in the surroundings of Naimisharany (Nimsar-Misrikh in Sitapur district) that Suta narrated the story of Mahabharat as he had heard it from Vyasji. Some of the Smritis and Puranas were also written in this State.Gautam Buddha, Mahavir, Makkhaliputta Goshal and great thinkers brought about a revolution in Uttar Pradesh in 6th century B.C. Out of these, Makkhaliputta Goshal, who was born at Shravan near Shravasti, was the founder of Ajivika sect.

Mahavir, the 24th Trithankar of Jains was born in Bihar but had a large number of followers in Uttar Pradesh. He is said to have lived twice during rainy season in this State-once in Shravasti and the second time in Padrauna near Deoria. Pawa proved to be his last resting place. In fact, Jainism had entrenched itself in this State even before the arrival of Mahavir. Several Tirthankars such as Parshwanath, Sambharnath and Chandraprabha were born in different cities in this State and attained 'Kaivalya' here. Jainism must have retained its popularity in this State in Subsequent centuries also. this fact is borne by the ruins of several ancient temples. buildings, etc. The remains of a magnificient Jain Stupa have been dug out near Kankali Tila in Mathura, while Jain shrines built in early middle Age are still preserved in Deogarh, Chanderi and other places.

The Age of Buddha

The founder of Buddhism, Gautam the Buddha, was born in Lumbini in Nepal. His father, King Shuddodhan, was the ruler of a small State, Kapilvastu (now in Siddharthnagar district). His mother, Maya, belonged to the ruling family of another small state, Deodah (now in Deoria district). The Buddha attained Enlightenment at Bodh Gaya in Bihar but it was in Isipattan or Mrigdav in Sarnath in U.P. that the preached his first sermon and laid the foundation of his Order. From this point of view, Sarnath has the distinction of being the birth place of 'Dhamma' and 'Sangha', the two elements of the Holy Trinity of Buddism,the third being the Buddha himself.Other notable places in Uttar Pradesh followed by Buddha's association are Kushinara of Kushinagar (in Deoria district) where he attained 'Mahaparinirvana, Shravasti the capital of Kisal where he performed a great miracle, and Sankashyar Sankisa (in Etah district) where another miracle of his life occured.The rulers of several states in the then Uttar Pradesh were greately influenced by the teaching of Buddha.

The People of the State also did not lag behind in showing love and devotion to the Tathagat, greater part of whose monastic life was spent in Uttar Pradesh. Thus it will be no exaggeration to describe Uttar Pradesh as the Cradle of Buddhism. Besides Buddhism and Jainism, Pauranic Brahmanism also had deep roots in the state. Ancient images of Gods and Goddesses of Brahmanical order, a temple of Kushan period has been found which alludes to Brahmanism. In fact Mathura can be said to be the birthplace of Indian sculpture. Other temples of this faith built in different periods are in Varanasi, Allahabad, Ballia, Ghazipur. Jhansi and Kanpur.

Middle Age of Synthesis

In successive centuries after Buddha, Ayodhya, Prayag, Varanasi, Mathura and several other cities continued to play important role in the making of religious and cultural history in India. Several kings who ruled the region became immortal because of Vedic rituals performed by them and patronage extended by them to learning. Scholars like Ashwaghosh, Kalidas, Ban, Mayur, Diwakar, Vakpati, Bhavbhuti, Rajshekhar, Laxmidhar, Sri Harsh and Krishna Misra adorned their courts. Yuan-chwang says that the people of Uttar Pradesh were full masters of the language and spoke it correctly, there pronunciation was like that of the Devas, elegant, beautiful, and their intonation clear and district, worthy of emulation by others, the rules framed be these people were accepted by all. Rajashekhar of Pratihar also payas homage in the similar vein to the people and poets of Panchal.

Varanasi continued to be a prominent centre of learning as in the past. Ayodhya and Mathura acquired fameas birth places of Ram and Krishna. Pilgrims from every corner of the country continued to throng to Prayag and as such it was called the Tirtharaj Similarly, the north mountain region, where Kailash and Mansarovar are situated and from where the holy rivers of the country originate, also remained sacred for the piligrims.

The Shankaracharya established one of the four prominent sacred Dhams in Badrikashram in this region.

Middle Age

The liberal traditions continued to flourish in Uttar Pradesh in the middle age as well. Varanasi remained a prominent centre of Hindu learning and Jaunpur, under the Sharqi rulers, a prominent center of Islamic culture. Jaunpur was describing as the 'Shiraz' of India. The Sharqi rulers were patrons of music also and there were many famous musicians in their court. Brij region was an important center of devotional music in those days. It was in Uttar Pradesh that 'Sufis' took inspiration from Hindu thought and philosophy. Ramanand and his famous disciple Kabir and other saints like Ravidas, Darya Shah and Guru Gorakhnath were some of the great men of those times who gave a new direction to the life and culture of this State.

The Hindu teachers laid emphasis on monotheism (oneness of God) and focused attention on the meaninglessness of the caste system. The Muslim sufis were greatly influenced by mysticism. All these saint-poets contributed to the enrichment of both Hindi and Urdu literature. A notable contribution was made by Sultan Feroz Tughlaq who got Sankrit works translated into Presian among the authors of this age, Zia-ud-din Barni will always be held in high esteem. The tradition of cultural synthesis, which was started by the sufis and saints during the rule of Sultans received great impetus during the reign of wise Mughals. It was a time when a distinct liberal outlook was discernible in all the spheres of human life such as religion, art and literatures.

Many Madaras and Makatabs were opened for muslim education and Varanasi became the traditional center of Hindu education. Hindi and Urdu literatures developed further and work of translation of Sanskrit books into persian gained nomentum. Tulsidas, Surdas, Keshavdas, Bhushan, Malik Mohammad Jayasi, Raskhan, Matiram, Ghananand, Bihari, Dev and Giridhar Kavirai were some of the great poets who brought into being, laurels to Uttar Pradesh. After the disintegration of the Mughal empire, smaller states which came also pursued a policy of giving patronage to poets and musicians.

Architecture, Art and Craft

Several styles of architecture can be seen in Uttar Pradesh. There are buildings built in the Hindu Buddhist styles and Royal memorials and monuments of Indo-Islamic architectuBuildings constructed in Avadh and Sharqi styles of architecture are also remarkable.In the Jatakas and other ancient works, we find description of several such cities, palaces and forts, which were at sometime situated within the confines of Uttar Pradesh and of which there is not trace now. Almost the similar fate met the Stupas, etc., which were built by Shakya, Malla and other rulers in this State in 6th century B.C. The famous Jain stupa whose ruins have been found in Kankali Tila in Mathura was also built during this period.