#milk-day-in-india

[aphra-blogs]

Happy Milk Day | Aphra.in

Happy Milk Day. Order Aphra A2 Milk. Today. Our A2 Milk is a must-have for all health-conscious people, it provides you with a rich source of proteins and nutrients which are essential for your body's growth. It comes in fresh cartons and we offer easy service with Free home delivery at an affordable price. For more details visit our official website - www.aphra.in

*late post

[subikshafoods]

Get nutrient paneer for a healthy life

Good morning, friends. Have a nice day. Today I am going to explain hygienic paneer for everyone's health. Paneer is an important food for health having a lot of nutrients included in the fast world. Paneer is a substance obtained from milk used in cooking. You can buy Hygienic Paneer in Madurai from Subiksha Foods.

Paneer is a popular dairy product natively from South Asia and India. Paneer is prepared by boiling the milk and adding some lemon juice as a curdling agent until the milk separates. Use a muslin cloth to drain the water for collecting the paneer. After some time, you got a soft paneer. Store that paneer in the refrigerator by cutting them into cubes. Good quality paneer is spongy and very smooth with a sweet, acidic flavour.

The properties of paneer containing micronutrients play major biological activities essential for our health. The important properties are that it may be an antioxidant, boost immunity, aid digestion, reduce cancer risk, strengthen bones, lower body weight, is useful for kidney health, has stress-relieving properties, and is used for reducing blood pressure.

I conclude that paneer is rich in calcium giving needed nutrients to your bones, making them stronger. It has minerals that lower the chances of getting stones in the urinary system. It has antioxidant properties, helping to boost immunity in the body. It reduces blood pressure by having a lot of proteins and minerals. Paneer for children prevents tooth decay because of calcium. It helps to become hair strong and wrinkle-free with bright skin.

As I told you earlier, buy Hygienic Paneer in Madurai from Subiksha Foods. They prepared homemade paneer in a clean and hygienic environment with RO-purified water with natural milk in the traditional method. They serve the hygienic panner to you only for getting better health. So, friends get hygienic paneer from Subiksha Foods to improve health.

Find us inside Subiksha Foods at No 110 A, Bypass Road, Bethaniyapuram, Opp Babu Sharkar Marriage Mahal, Madurai — 625016, or call us at +91 80567 44906. You will be able to browse our website at https://subikshafoods.in/ for details.

#InstantChapatiMadurai #InstantPooriMadurai #InstantParathaMadurai #WholeWheatParathaMadurai #IdlyDosaMavunearmemadurai #idli dosa maavu in madurai #Readymade Poori Madurai #Readymade Paratha Madurai #Readymade Whole Wheat Paratha Madurai #Readymade Idly Dosa Mavu near me madurai #Readymade idli dosa maavu in madurai #Readymade Chapati Madurai #InstantChapati #ReadyToCookChapati #SemiCookedChapati #ReadymadeChapati #ReadyMadePoori #InstantPoori #ReadyMadePuri #SemiCookedPoori #ReadyToCookPoori #ReadyToCookPuri #SemiCookedPuri #InstantParatha #ReadyToCookParatha #SemiCookedParatha #ReadymadeParatha #ReadyToCookParota #SemiCookedParota #ReadymadeParota #WholeWheatParatha #ReadyMadeWheatParatha #SemiCookedWheatParatha #IdlyDosaMavu #IdlyDosaBatter #Curd #Thirunagar3rdstop #Thirunagar6thstop #Vedarpuliyankulam #Thirunagar4thstop #Thanakankulammainroad #Thirunagar4thstop #SRVnagarharveypatti #Thirunagar #Mahaboobpalayam #Sscolony #Vanamamalinagar #Nehrunagar #Karimedu #Nearmathitheatre #Melaponnagaram #Neardinamalarofficechockalinganagar #Athikulammainroad #Bankcolony #Iyerbungalowmainroad #EBcolonystreet #Nearkarthiktheatre #survivorcolony #Pudurbusstop #Pudur #Mahatmagandhinagar #Valluvarcolony #Vishwanathapuram #Umatchikulam #Thirupalai #TVSnagar #Jeevanagar #Villapuramhousingboard #Agriniapartment #Avaniyapuram #Subramaniyapurammarket #Palanganatham #Annanagar #Gomathipuram #Karupayurani #KKnagar #Othakadai #Koodalnagar #Sikkandarchavadi #Anaiyur #Basingapuram #Alankulam #Alankulam #Panagadi #Kulamangalam #Palamedu #Alanganallur #Nagamalai #Kochadai #Thenimainroad #HMScolony #Vellichamynadarschool #MKUuniversity #Nearsaravanahospital #BBkulammenambalmainroad #Reserveline #Sellur #bestgheeproduct #bestghee #gheeatitsbestquality #bestqualityghee #bestgheeinmadurai #bestgheeintamilnadu #pureghee #puregheeinmadurai #puregheeintamilnadu #purestformofghee #purequalityghee #bestgheeforfoods #bestgheeforfood #bestgheeforcooking #bestgheeforbiriyani #bestgheeforsweets #puregheeforfoods #puregheeforfood #purgheeforbiriyani #puregheeforsweets #tastiestghee #tastiestgheeinmadurai #tastiestgheeintamilnadu #bestgheeforladdu #puregheeforladdu #bestgheeforhalva #puregheeforhalva #bestgheeformysorepak #puregheeformysorepak #bestgheeforjalebi #puregheeforjalebi #bestgheefordosa #bestgheeforgheeroast #puregheefordosa #puregheeforgheeroast #bestgheeforpongal #puregheeforpongal #bestgheeforhalwa #puregheeforhalwa #halva #halwa #ghee #pongal #dosa #gheeroast #jalebi #cooking #laddu #sweets #purestghee #healthyghee #healthiestghee #gheeatlowcost #lowcostghee #bestlowcostghee #bestgheeforgheeproducts #bestgheeforgheefoods #bestgheeforkesari #kesari #purecurd #bestcurd #bestcurdforcooking #bestcookingcurd #bestcookingcurdinmadurai #tastiestcurd #healthycurd #healthiestgcurd #creamycurd #bestcreamycurd #bestcurdinmadurai #bestcurdintamilnadu #bestcreamycurdinmadurai #tastycurdinmadurai #purecurdinmadurai #bitterfreecurd #bestcowmilkcurd #bestbuffalomilkcurd #flavourfreecurd #offodorcurd #bestflatcurd #bestqualitycurd #curdatlowcost #lowcostcurd #bestlowcostcurd #bestcurdcompany #bestcurdcompanyinmadurai #bestcurdproductinmadurai #bestcurdproduct #bestcurdsupply #bestcurdsupplyinmadurai #bestpaneer #bestpaneerinmadurai #bestqualitypaneer #bestpaneeratlowcost #tastypaneer #tastiestpaneerinmadurai #bestpaneerproduct #bestpaneercompany #bestpaneercompanyinmadurai #bestpaneerproductinmadurai #bestpaneerproduct #bestpaneersupply #bestpaneersupplyinmadurai #bestpaneerintamilnadu #unsaltedpaneer #bestunsaltedpaneer #bestunsaltedpaneerinmadurai #bestpaneerforpaneerbuttermasala #bestpaneerforpaneertikka #paneerbuttermasala #paneertikka #paneerpulao #bestpaneerforpaneerpulao #purepaneer #purepaneerinmadurai #purequalitypaneer #purequalitypaneerinmadurai #bestpaneerforcooking #bestpaneerforfoods #bestdairyproducts #bestdairyproductsinmadurai #subiksha #subikshafoods #subikshadairyproducts #dairyproducts

[satirediary]

Everyone has those childhood stories of lavish summer vacations consisting of beaches, foreign countries, cruises, and fancy resorts, but not you. Your summers were filled with open fields, sweet tea, climbing trees, and Touya Todoroki. 

Long days were spent ripping and running through the fields of your family's acres. Scraping your knees and bruising your elbows. Touya always had more scars than you, most from events you hadn't witnessed. He was always sent home with extra ointment and bandages from your mother, who never asked questions but instead gave long hugs and lots of fruit. You always felt like your parents knew something you didn't.

Hanging upside down from the swing your dad made out of an old tire and rope, the grass looks like it's growing from the sky. "Do you think when we're older we'll go to cool places for the summer? Like India, or something." You ask casually, your head turning to face an upside-down Touya.

Half preoccupied with picking at his bandage, Touya hums and thinks for a bit before focusing his attention on you. "Only if it's just the two of us; family vacations are overrated."

That's right, it's easy to forget Touya comes from money when you two are out in the grassy fields with dirt underneath your fingernails and grass-stained shirts. He's been coming out to the country for three summers now; apparently, his dad's idea is that he needs to focus on other things and be a normal kid. You think it means he's becoming too materialistic; your grandmother says it's because Touya has a troubled home life, never getting too many details out before your mother speaks in a strained tone to not discuss those things around you.

Your smile is soft, as is your voice when you speak mostly to yourself, “Yeah, the two of us is just fine.”

—

Traditionally, Touya always ate dinner with your family on the last day of summer. The long table would be decorated with all the harvests of the season, plus enough yeast rolls to feed the masses and milk from the best cow on the farm. His leaving for the school year always left you devastated, but these dinners filled with laughter, full bellies, and his promises to see you next summer always lightened the mood.

“My doctor says milk makes your bones stronger,” Touya declares after chugging his third glass, a milk mustache to match his fluffy white hair. You can’t help but giggle at the sight of it, telling him to wipe his face. “Hey, one day this mustache will be real!”

But that day never came. Touya left that night, and he never returned. Not the next summer, or the following, or the one after that—and eventually you grew up and stopped waiting. You never saw his white mustache or congratulated him for taking his father’s position, like he always rambled passionately about. You don't know if those things ever happened for him, but whenever he crosses your mind, you wish him well, wherever he may be.

[herpsandbirds]

Hey! I wasn't sure if you had seen the news, or even cared, but here in Australia, a zoo just had a Coastal Taipan have a 5.2g venom yield in their milking program (3 times the average yield). It's apparently enough venom to kill 400 humans 😳 If you'd like I can send a link or tell you the Instagram name of the zoo? So you can see their posts about it? Regardless of that, I hope y'all are enjoying your day/night!!

Also, on that topic, are you aware of any other snakes with extremely large venom yields?

Snake Venom Yields:

I haven't really heard anything about this, but its pretty cool. I did not know that they had such a high venom yield.

Cyclone the taipan breaks venom record - Central Coast News (coastcommunitynews.com.au)

The two snakes that are known for having the highest venom yields are the King Cobra and the Gaboon Viper (which actually yields more per bite than the King Cobra). The Gaboon is comparable to this new record from the taipan.

Coastal Taipan (Oxyuranus scutellatus), family Elapidae, found in coastal areas of Northern and Eastern Australia and New Guinea

Venomous.

photograph by Scott Eipper

Gaboon Viper (Bitis gabonica), family Viperidae, found in West Africa

Venomous.

This species has the longest fangs of any venomous snake, at a length of up to 2 inches (5 cm).

photographs by Mark Kostich

King Cobra (Ophiophagus hannah), female, family Elapidae, India

Venomous.

This species is the largest venomous snake in the world, growing to a length of up to ~19 ft!!!

photograph by wildwarrior_pravesh.meet

[zvaigzdelasas]

[Reuters is Canada-Based Private Media]

Bangladesh will raise the minimum wage for garment workers by 56.25%, the first hike since 2019, the junior labour minister said on Tuesday after a week of protests calling for higher salaries. The minimum wage for workers will be increased from 8,000 taka to 12,500 taka ($114) per month from Dec. 1, State Minister for Labour and Employment Monnujan Sufian said. There will also be a 5% annual increment. The protests, which led to clashes with police that killed two workers and wounded dozens more, pushed the government to form a panel of factory owners, union leaders and officials to consider the demand for higher pay.[...]

"(Government welfare) cards will be provided to the workers, later the ration cards will be given to them so they can buy essential commodities at cheaper rates," Rahman, also a former president of the Bangladesh Garment Manufacturers and Exporters Association, told Reuters. Workers, however, are not happy with the rise at a time when inflation is running at 9.5%.

7 Nov 23

[TheDailyStar is Bengali Private Media]

The wage board for garment workers has set the minimum salary at Tk 12,500, a little over half of what workers demand. Union leaders have rejected the new minimum wage put forth by the wage board, which accepted the proposal of factory owners’ representative Siddiqur Rahman. The current starting wage is Tk 8,000. Union leaders yesterday threatened to go for tough demonstrations. Workers had demonstrated for 12 straight days.[...]

Before the announcement, members of the Minimum Wage Board, formed on April 9, held a meeting at its office. While the meeting was going on, union leaders outside chanted slogans demanding a minimum wage of at least Tk 23,000. Demanding a starting salary of Tk 25,000, Montu Ghosh, president of Garment Sramik Trade Union Kendra, said the measly amount set was not enough to lead a good life. Inflation and high prices of essentials have made things worse for garment workers. Ghosh along with other union leaders of the Mojuri Briddhite Garment Sramik Andolon, a platform of workers’ unions, in a statement rejected the new minimum wage and called for a rally on Friday where they would announce tougher programmes[...]

If the workers’ unrest continues, the responsibility will lie with the wage board, Nazma said.[...]

[The] president of the Bangladesh Apparel Workers’ Federation, said the prime minister’s intervention is needed in setting the new minimum wage. He demanded ration cards, not the family cards of the TCB, for the garment workers.[...]

The new minimum wage is much less than those offered in India, Cambodia, Vietnam, China and Indonesia. Only Pakistan has a lower minimum wage. Early last month, the Centre for Policy Dialogue, after a survey, interviews and research, estimated that the minimum wage for an RMG worker should be Tk 17,568. The new minimum wage falls short of that. The think-tank had delved into food and non-food expenditure patterns of 228 workers from 76 factories and even considered how many earning members an average RMG worker’s family had. The CPD had stated that the food cost for an RMG worker family was at least Tk 9,198 a month but notes that the standard food expenditure for a family of four would be Tk 16,529 and that the garment workers have to cut corners to make ends meet.

It said 12 percent of the workers’ families do not buy milk at all, 5 percent do not buy sugar, and 5 percent do not consume fruits.

8 Nov 23

[radwitchhh]

This mother's day. Remembering all the mothers who didn't want to become mothers but had to go through coerced pregnancies for centuries. All the teen girl children who were denied abortions and were forced to carry children of their m@le rapists. All the mothers who suffer immense trauma during and after childbirth, and thus disassociated themselves from their babies and at times, wanted to k!ll their own infants because no one understood their pain. Mothers who perform extreme domestic and emotional labour for their babies but never get anything in return except for patriarchal glorification and romanticization, so that they continue sacrificing their lives when they don't want to

Mothers who lost their children because of m@le supremacist custody laws. Mothers who are raped by their own sons. Mothers who are violated by their husbands while they are pregnant. Mothers whose health was compromised because everyone prioritized their babies' health only. Mothers who are accused of being selfish for prioritizing themselves when they are entitled to it. Mothers who are Gods, who create us all but the insignificant father gets to take complete control over the children.

Surrogate mothers, whose wombs are exploited as privileged folks oppress them via mass commodification of their bodies and their capability of giving birth. Mothers who kill their m@le partners for abusing their daughters. Mothers who are shamed for breast feeding and showing their pregnant bellies in public. Mothers who are the natural protectors, because every cell of her body gives life and strength to her children. Mothers who give away their food and utility shares to their children and survive on crumbles.

Mothers of P@l3st!ne who are suffering alone and have lifelong traumas, as they are carrying the dead bodies of their children daily, made to go through c-sections without anaesthesia and are giving birth with no aid, relief, food and water. Mothers of Congo losing their children to mine exploitation daily. Mothers of Sudan being abused by Ar@b militia m3n. Mothers of Yemen, Syria, Lebanon. Mothers of Iran mourning their daughters' lost lives after their abuse by the m@le supremacist I$lam!c regime. Mothers of Afghanistan whose daughters can't study and who can't move around the country without the permission of a m@le guardian.

Mothers in South Asia forced to go through multiple pregnancies because their in-laws want a son. Mothers in Sindh and Punjab suffering fistulas. Mothers in India, Pakistan and China made to see the murder of their new born infants because their babies are females. Black and Hispanic mothers in US denied abortions and facing medical misogyny. Indigenous mothers fighting to protect their lands. All the refugee mothers of war and climate change displaced with no homes. Mothers in garment factories of Bangladesh making clothes of the whole world in abusive working conditions. Mothers who are called misogynist derogatory labels of "uterus havers" and "menstruators", when only females can be mothers and no m@le can ever be.

Animal mothers being brutalized in the meat and animal industry. Mother cows, chickens, goats, sheeps and pigs abused for irregular and exploitative meat and milk production. Mother orcas fighting elites to protect their children. Mother dolphins mourning the deaths of their children due to m@le created pollution in the ocean. Every animal mother finding it difficult to survive and keep her children safe as m@les ruin the goddess Earth's natural ecosystems daily.

Also, motherhood is not a monolith, mothers are not angels and don't have to be. While, mothers are divinely great there are mothers with internalized misogyny, who further make their daughters suffer the same misogynist traumas. Mothers who sell their daughters into prostitution and arranged marriages, and continue being strongest foot soldiers and secondary agents of patriarchy. Mothers who brutalize their daughters with fgm and breast ironing. Mothers who deny food to their daughters.

Mothers are the Creators, the Gods who have faced oppression by the m@n's world for centuries. The whole world of m3n will shatter without the labour of these Gods. You can love or hate your mother as a daughter based on the relationship you have with her

Happy mothers day to the creators of all human beings!!!

[icycoldninja]

Hey! How are you... it's mother's day in India today. And my mother and my relationship strained, though she doesn't know about it.😂

Anyway, not trauma dumping. But can I request lots of angst, followed by lots of love. Basically Dante and fem!reader (his wife) has a cute five year old daughter, she and Dante plans mother's day something for her. As far as trying to make no-bake cake (cause seriously, Dante can't bake for his life and baby is baby.)

I just want it to be followed by the reader questioning after the celebration at night, if she is even a good mother that one day she is turn controlling and obsessive like her mother, when she is alone with Dante. And the baby was awake walking through the hall and overheads. She and Dante make sure the Reader knows she is doing great as a mother. Dante goes as far as saying she is as good a mother as Eva.

Yes, Instagram is giving me a baby fever.

Aww, I'm so sorry to hear that. 💜 And yeah, I get it, when you see how happy other moms are, you kinda wanna be a mom yourself. Here you go, I hope you enjoy and have a great day.

Am I a Good Mother? (Dante x Fem!Reader)

"OK, what's the next step?" Dante asked, bending over your little daughter's shoulder to read the recipe.

"It says...add milk and stir." Said your daughter, standing up on her tiptoes to peer at the recipe sheet taped to the kitchen cabinet.

"OK, I'll get on that," Dante said, patting your daughter's head. "While I do that, go check on your mom and see if she's still watching TV. Do it quietly, though, don't get caught."

Nodding, your daughter scampered off to spy on you, returning a few seconds later with a smile on her face.

"Yup, Daddy, she's still watching TV," She announced, proudly. "And she didn't see me."

"Great job," Dante chuckled, giving the cake batter a good stir.

Today was Mother's Day, and like any loving family, Dante and your lovely 5 year old daughter were fixing up a surprise for you. Earlier, Dante sat you on the couch and turned on your favorite show, ordering you to relax and just enjoy the afternoon. You'd taken the bait and were now absorbed in the aforementioned show while Dante and your daughter made a cake for you, destroying your kitchen in the process.

"OK, now what do we do?" Dante asked, pouring the cake mixture into a glass dish.

"It says chill it." Replied your daughter, walking over and opening the fridge. Dante, slid the dish of cake mixture into the fridge, set the timer, and sighed.

"Great job, Princess," He said, playfully missing up her hair. "Now, go wash your hands and you can go play, I'll keep an eye on the cake."

"OK, Daddy," Said your daughter, grinning.

Several hours later, the cake was ready to be served. You, Dante, and your daughter especially, enjoyed it. After all the food had been eaten and your daughter had been pu to bed, you and Dante had a quiet moment to yourselves, where your dark worries came out.

Dante knew that you and your mother had a rather strained, uncomfortable relationship due to her controlling and obsessive, tiger-mom behavior in the past, and knew that unlike him, you never had the joy of feeling safe around your mother. You always had to put on an act to appease her, never being able to be yourself around her. He never brought this topic up in conversation because he didn't want to upset you, so the matter went largely undiscussed.

Tonight, however, was a different story. Tonight, you started tearfully divulging your fears to Dante, as you lay in his lap.

"I'm just...just worried that someday I'm gonna become like my mom," You told him, tears welling up in your eyes. "You know the saying, like mother like daughter. I don't want our little girl to go through that...I don't want her to have to deal with that pressure, I don't want her to put on an act when I'm around her. I don't want to be like that."

Dante let out a small sigh, running his fingers through your hair.

"Baby, don't talk like that, you're not gonna grow up to be like that old bitch--"

"But you don't know that!" You cried, burying your face in his lap, soaking his pants with tears. "You don't know that. I don't know that. I-"

You were cut off when a sleepy little voice called from the hallway, startling you.

"Mommy?" Called your daughter, stumbling forwards in her pajamas, one chubby fist rubbing her eye. "Are you sad?"

Both you and Dante were speechless for a moment; all you two could do was watch as she continued padding forwards, a concerned little pout on her face.

"Daddy, why is Mommy sad?" She asked. You immediately sat up, straightening your clothes and hair, though you were unable to hide your red, puffy, teary eyes.

"Mommy's not sad," Dante said slowly, trying to figure out a way to hide the truth from your little girl. "She's just..uhh...tired. Yeah, just like you when you get tired, Mommy cries."

"Really?" Your daughter asked, wide eyed. "Grown ups do that too?"

"Yup," Dante nodded, relieved his lie had worked. "I'd better put both of you to bed now, it's getting really late."

You chuckled as the man stood up, lifted your daughter into his arms, and carried her to the bedroom, with you following behind.

"Hey, Daddy?" Your daughter asked, as you neared her room. "Do you cry when you get tired too?"

You and Dante exchanged a brief glance before he answered,

"Yes, I do."

"Does Uncle Vergil cry when he's sleepy too?" Your daughter inquired, now very intrigued.

"Yes, he does," Dante affirmed, laughing. "Now shush, it's time for bed." With that, your daughter's curiosity was sated, and after being tucked in bed, looked ready to fall asleep.

"Night baby," You said, kissing her forehead.

"Night-night Mommy," She whispered, yawning. "I love you. You'e a great mommy."

Dante gave her a kiss and a tickle, and afterwards, he guided you back to the living room, glad to see a smile return to your face.

"See, babe? She seems to think you're a great mom."

"I...guess...yeah," You admitted, shrugging.

"And she ain't the only one," Dante told you. "I think you're an excellent mom too. Hell, you're just as good as my mom was."

"You really think so?" You asked, blushing slightly.

"I know so," Dante chuckled, leaning forwards and kissing you. "Now come on, let's get you to bed before you get too tired and crying again." You laughed at that, the small smile on your face widening into a big, happy grin.

"Thanks, Dante," You said, resting your head on your husband's chest as he scooped you into his arms and carted you off to the bedroom. "I love you...and thank you for...well...telling me what I needed to hear."

"I love you too, babe, and don't think it's just something you needed to hear," Dante said, patting your shoulder as he walked. "It's also the truth."

[kali-chaotic-neutral]

Easy Money Bowl/Jar

I have tried multiple different types of Money bowls and jars, from various different videos on Youtube or posts on insta or tumblr and a few of them have worked out for me, but not fully. I then had decided to try and make my own with the knowledge I got from those videos/posts I watched and it works well enough.

Get a jar/bow. I've used old small dishes that my family doesn't use anymore, and I am currently using an old instant coffee jar. It can be a plastic bowl or a jar as well, use what you have.

Cleanse it. You can use incense, moon water to spray the insides and wipe it with a clean cloth, any way you cleanse really. While you cleanse, visualize and charge it with your money intention. For me my intentions are so that I can treat myself to a restaurant or simple outings with friends. The money will vary with intention.

Add a simple base. I'm using rice, I saw a video where someone used Quinoa.

Then I put cinnamon, it can be powder or sticks, anything.

Then add some salt (table salt, pink himalayan salt, sea salt, any salt darling)

Then i put coffee. It can be those you put in a french press/machine, it can be instant coffee (even the ones with the milk solids or whatever it's called) or even coffee beans if you have them.

Then finally add some money. I add coins, since I'm from India, I put Ten and five rupee coins and probably 50 rupees in. And then I close it (because mine is a jar rn)

If yours is a bowl, I've had money come in when I light incense in it or if I put fresh incense ash in it. Also I used to put chips of Clear Quartz in it, but I lost quite a few so I don't anymore.

Keep the bowl/jar in your altar or a part where you can see it everyday. Light a candle beside it or place a crystal on top to charge the bowl/jar. Add some more coins or cleanse it every Thursday as (i think) it's the best day to manifest money.

[bfpnola]

this piece is written so well, reads just like a story, that i'm struggling on which excerpts to showcase for this post. please read the whole thing when you get the chance!

“They forbade us from feeding our own before we went to feed their children. They never prohibited us physically,” she said, her jaw clenched, adding that the fear they inculcated was enough for them to obey. “They didn’t want their children nursing from the breast of a woman who had just fed an untouchable child.” Driving her stick farther into the ground, she added: “Sons of b******.” “I was distressed about starving my child, but I always went along with it because that is how it worked,” Narsamma said. She would be compensated sporadically. “I was paid with a sack of grains or 10 or 20 paise [less than 1 cent].” She looked around, before adding: “Soon as I reached their premises, I was provided with a piece of soap and was asked to take a bath near the cattle shed. Which human being would want to be treated that way? I left my baby starving in the house to feed their child. And while we slaved away our bodies for them, they saw it as nothing less than their birthright to treat us like that.”

...

The women began to speak about Madiga food habits and, in particular, eating beef. Most Hindus who are not Dalits do not eat beef because cattle are considered sacred animals, but it is a staple food for many Dalit communities like mine. For Madigas, meat from the dead cattle our community disposed of was often our only source of food, and we became associated with consuming beef. Non-Dalits have long humiliated people who eat beef by saying they are impure. But beef was not only an easy, protein-rich source of food for my community, it also played a significant role in our nutritional customs. Such customs have faded as our community has tried to dissociate itself from a cultural practice that we were shamed for. The marginalisation of those who eat beef has only grown since 2014 after Prime Minister Narendra Modi’s government came to power and banned the slaughter of cattle in many states, fuelling the rise of violent vigilantism against beef-eating minorities. Beef played a particular postpartum role for Madigas. “For about 12 days following childbirth, our elders made sure we ate a nutritious diet of a different assortment of beef parts every day,” Narsamma said. “The elders carefully chalked out every day’s diet to make sure we had the strength to sustain ourselves after giving birth and to produce sufficient nutritious milk for our babies. All the castes knew about this custom and hence had a popular opinion that our women produce nutritious milk.” The sun had nearly set, and the women fanned themselves to keep the mosquitoes away. They would soon return home to tend to their families and the evening chores. “They humiliated us as impure and dirty every day for eating beef, but they wanted the milk of the beef eaters,” Narsamma said. “They say we polluted the air they breathed, but they wanted our bodies to feed their children.”

[candywife333]

There is Never A Right Time

Summary:

Jungkook hadn’t thought about the woman he had left for a long time. He had gotten secretly married to her, his judgement clouded under the influence of alcohol,  and all it took was a shadow of distrust to make him abandon her. If the world questioned the sanctity of her character, then the world had to be right. Right? He hoped he was right at least. Because if he wasn’t , he had lost the best thing that had ever happened to him in his life. As he continued to work as a top idol, artist, and entrepreneur time went by. He had other women but they never lasted long in his life. When he attended an award show with the rest of the members, he saw a girl there. Another artist. Definitely someone he knew he had never seen or heard of before. Who was she? Something about her was familiar. Maybe her eyes. And then it struck him, making him go as cold as a corpse. He had seen those same eyes somewhere else alright, in the mirror when he looked at his own reflection every morning.

DISCLAIMER: The character written in this fan fiction does not represent the real Jungkook’s personality or behavior. All of this is fiction. 

WARNING: Fic mentions noncon/rape (does not describe it explicitly in this part), please don’t read if this is a trigger. 

This series is slated to be a trilogy. Here is PART ONE, hope you guys enjoy. Also, I will be creating a permanent tag-list for all my chubby reader fics, please let me know in comments whoever would like to be a part of that. 

  PART 1

The lady stood in front of him and the other members. She exuded a powerful aura, regal and dignified. These qualities were rather an unusual combination for idols, especially Korean idols so he was a little starstruck. Something that was rather unusual for any member of BTS to feel. She couldn't have been more than 18 years old though based on her appearance. The girl must be mixed race because she had very unconventional features for an idol. She had dark thick curly black hair that trailed to her hips and her skin reminded him of strongly brewed milk tea. The even more startling features were her plush lips, a prominent straight nose graced by a diamond stud, and double lidded eyes fringed with what seemed to be thick eyelashes.

She was sporting an unusual outfit as well; a customized skirt and bra set that he only saw gypsies and belly dancers wear. A gold belt adorned her waist sitting lower on her hips with a diamond belly piercing highlighting her lithe , toned figure. He couldn't stop looking at her because strangely enough something about her was familiar.

He made eye contact with her accidentally and what he saw made his heart palpate against his chest. He had seen those same eyes every day of his life in his mirror. Her doe eyes were too similar to his own. They say that eyes are a mirror to the soul, but her eyes were a mirror to his own.

Who was she? He felt a stir of panic as their eyes met and she bowed down low. She was of average height, but her presence seemed to envelope the room since other well known artists,  idols, and staff greeted her politely. The stage director came near her bowing. To Jungkook’s surprise , she spoke in fluent Korean though she seemed to be a foreign artist.

The stage director and the girl were a few feet away from BTS when the stage director exclaimed , “How is your mother doing Cha-ya? She must be worried since you have only promoted up til now in the US, Thailand, and India. Are you having a comfortable time adjusting over here?”

The girl’s eyes lit up in glee as she responded with a little chuckle, “It has for sure been a different experience than the U.S. and India for sure. The stage is so organized and everything is so close by for promotions. I am enjoying it to the max. Mom told me to eat well and sleep 8 hours a day. You know how doctors are like. She’s constantly checking in on me to see if I am stressed out. Saiyan and Arang are also being such worrywarts since this is the first time I’ve been here.”

The stage director continued in mild surprise, “Are they your brothers? I thought you were an only child ?”

She guffawed in a cacophonous fashion which made several idols and artists look her way, in awe and confusion. Jungkook thought that she was a rather different type of artist. Very uninhibited by social norms. Clearly she had not been brought up in Korea.

“Director, we are actually triplets but both of them were born a few minutes ahead of me so they insist that they are my older brothers. We are very tight knit and they will be coming to visit soon. Saiyan is a pretty popular model right now and so he will be finishing his Engineering degree at Washington State and rush over here for Seoul fashion week. Arang on the other hand finished his MBA/Medicine dual degree, so he will be managing a chain of Health and Wellness Resorts over here. “

The director’s jaw slid open in an exclamation. He sputtered in disbelief, “ How are all of your siblings so well studied and managing jobs like that? You must be the only sibling purely in entertainment.” The girl deliberated for a second before responding, “Mom made sure we all had solid educations before pursuing these types of careers. She is always skeptical of fame, and she brought us up to be extremely disciplined, stable, and loyal individuals. I am actually finished with my course in Law (focus in international law) ,but currently all that is stalled for the time being because of my activities in entertainment.”

As Jungkook was hearing this conversation along with the other artists in the room who were curiously eavesdropping as well, the Director continued in awe, “Your mother seems to be an extremely strong lady. I knew she was a doctor  who seemed extremely rich and well off, but she must literally be a goddess to give birth to such high achieving kids. What about your father, what does he do?”

Cha-ya scoffed with a quizzical, somewhat bitter look, “He actually left her before we were even born. We found out who he was when we all finished college. Our mother made sure our upbringing was never lacking. We saw him a lot on the Korean and world news growing up but never knew that he was our dad. You know,  he is someone whose popularity never fades strangely enough. He sold his soul for fame, so it is to be expected perhaps.” The director looked so intrigued and invested as he prodded for more info, “ Who is he? Definitely we would know who he is? Is he a singer, actor, businessman in the industry over here?”

Cha-ya’s entire expression became rigid and mask-like as she replied in what seemed to be a disinterested tone, “ We do not consider him our dad, so neither my brothers, nor I would like to claim him. He was a sperm donor. That is the long and short of it. Who he is, is as irrelevant as what today’s weather forecast is. He betrayed my mother and trusted the world over her. She went through so much pain just to be by his side. And when she thought the pain would end, he left her. I have to be on stage, so if you will excuse me now Sir.”

She side stepped the director and went closer to the entrance of the main stage. Jungkook could feel the bile and vomit rising to his mouth. She had been pregnant when he had left her? He had three kids, that he never knew anything about? This grown beautiful artist was his daughter?And he had two more accomplished sons?  His parents had grandkids? And how the hell did she brith triplets?!! Wouldn’t her vagina tear ??????!!!

His world was crashing down on him as the rest of BTS stared at him with stark grief painted across their faces. They all remembered her name, it was unforgettable.

Before he could process anything, he heard the booming noise starting up on the stage. Wait, wait up a minute! This track was the most popular pop/ rock release of the year all over the US. He saw his daughter he never knew he had on stage in an elaborate headdress dancing with precision and fluidity on stage. She had no backing track, the other idols could tell. This was live. Only one artist sang with no backing track in all her performances this year in the US. She was on MTV and all other award shows, becoming sensational, l hitting all headlines for singing with no backing track usually acapella . Shadow, that was her romanized name, but in all Asian countries she went by Nee-Da.

She had risen to the top for the past 3 years for her herculanean work ethic , creative marketing/business acumen. She was known for her cutthroat ruthlessness in the music industry, mostly aided by the fact that her mother was known to own and manage the world’s most innovative new security system, Poison. He did not know what to be more shocked about at this point? How could he not have recognized her? Seeing her in real life was different from seeing her on stage with all the makeup and ornamentation on.

She was the pop-star of the era, a business mogul with a net worth of close to 300 million dollars at such a young age due to her clothing and makeup line. She was his daughter. How could this even be possible? Jungkook could feel his identity crisis coming. How did he birth the most iconic popstar of this generation, who as of now hated his guts? What scared him even more was the realization of who her mother was.

The lady he had left, the woman he could never forget even in his dreams was her mother. And her mother owned the world’s scariest personal security company, Poison. The company had revolutionized personal security by founding a bracelet and many other gadgets that created magnetic repellant force fields around individuals. It was notorious for being marketed only towards woman and could only be activated when the device recognized the XX chromosome, so the device would never protect men.

Basically, women all around the world who had these devices now had a programmable magnetic forcefield around them which shielded them from the outside world. Firearms, Tasers, and aggressors were all repelled by this technology. Women could safely walk out in the middle of the night as long as they had a device, which was continuously made affordable at its very inception by the reclusive owner of the company.

With this  technology ,the owner instantly became the most powerful business woman, icon, feminist, that the world knew. That is in fact all the world knew. That she was a woman. But nobody knew anything else about her, she was an elusive person who didn't show up to most media events. Her personal motto was that the products advocated for themselves. Her financial officers and other company higher ups showed up in the media, but she never did. Most people in the world didn't even know how this woman looked like, because of how reclusive she was.

All people knew was that she was Cha-ya’s mother and that she had two other kids.

What Jungkook got to know that made him almost go into a stroke was the sheer fact that Cha-ya’s mom was his Y/N. The one whose heart he had broken years ago.

Y/N was a billionaire of gargantuan proportions, a net worth that made his look like chump change.  His daughter was the iconic popstar of the century, someone whose craze and popularity surpassed his own in his heyday. Which meant that his son Saiyan was the new model who had just walk in Paris Fashion Week as the face of Armani. The same one that Jimin’s daughter had raved about the other day. Which meant that his son Arang became the CEO of the exclusive wellness resort, Ellysium , a resort only catered to the richest of the richest. All this calculations overwhelmed Jungkook to the point that there was only one reasonable outcome. He fainted.

He woke up to the sound of his members whispering in anxious voices to one another. “Do you think he can handle this right now?” Jin asked Namjoon. “I have no clue bro, I mean he hasn't seen her in years and the last time he saw her, he treated her so badly that even I felt ridiculously hurt for her” Namjoon sighed in a rather morose tone of voice. Hoseok scoffed as he seethed,  “Do you think she will even acknowledge him after all he had done to her? Jungkook left her to face a whole media circus alone while he impregnated her when he was inebriated, mind you. Then, to top it all of with a cherry he not only remembered nothing of the process, but she found him shagging a whole different girl the next day. Do you think that you would forgive actions as heinous as those”?

Jungkook felt dizzy as he struggled to sit up on the sofa. Jimin rushed to him with a frown on his face and worry painting his eyes, “You doing okay Kookie? Are you alright staying here for the rest of the award show, or do you want to head back home?” Still dazed from his fall, Jungkook responded pensively, “No it’s alright. I just need to catch my bearings and I can be there for the rest of the show”. Before the rest of the members could stop him Yoongi spit out bitterly, “You say you are okay attending the show. But are you sure you really want to? Cha-ya’s mother will be in attendance, flying out to see her babygirl win an award. You sure you can handle that Jungkook”?

Jungkook felt his heart racing, panic overtaking his mind. How could he face her? He had wronged her in so many ways? How could he show his miserable face to her after the way he had ruined her life? Y/n was never even his girlfriend or fiancé at the time. But, he had compromised her in the worst way possible and then had not even remembered his mistake the day after. She had paid for his mistakes by bearing children and caring for them when he had not even known they existed. Even if he had known , it was questionable whether he could've done anything signifiant. He had been embroiled in multiple scandals and caught in alcohol addiction during that phase of his life. He was living wild and no way would he have been a sober, or healthy father to his kids.

With the help of a few assistants , the group slowly trudged towards the celebrity seating quadrant of the award show venue. Cha-ya was up on the stage receiving the award for Most Streamed Artist from the hands of a veteran Korean actress. As Jungkook watched his daughter---as strange as it felt to say those words, receive the award with a blinding smile on her face, he felt his chest hurt. What type of crime had he committed in his previous life that he didn't even get to see his girl grow up? She was beautiful, sharing so many of his features, his bulbous nose, doe-like eyes, and rounded face.

She resembled him more than she resembled her mother. And before anyone could even expect it Cha-ya spoke into the microphone, “I thank everyone at VEX entertainment for helping me get to where I am today. I would also like to thank my staff and all the people behind the scenes who have pushed me to this position. I hope to make all of you proud. None of this would be possible without all of you”. She took in a deep breath as she announced, “But, most importantly I have to thank my mother. She brought me up to be the strong woman that I am today. She worked so hard to give us everything and never left us lacking. We never felt the absence of a father because she is both to me and to my brothers. I would like to call her up on stage, so I can dedicate this award to her. Please mom, come up on stage”.

Everything was moving too fast around Jungkook as he breathed in shallow pants. He felt like he was breathing too fast and his brain was not functioning. He felt paralyzed. Stuck. But he couldn't even catch his breath when he saw the mother of his children sweep into the area where he and the members sat. He could barely recognize the bold woman he was looking at. She looked lethal, powerful, untouchable ---the direct opposite of what she had been, a warm approachable girl.

She was draped in a blood red shimmering sari crafted with gold thread, an ensemble exposing a massive fire breathing dragon tattoo overarching the entirety of what seemed to be her left hip barely reaching to her belly button . The dress was close to backless with just a red resolute thread holding the top sleeveless jacket in place. You could tell she worked out, but she had all the feminine curves befitting a woman, a rounded stomach hidden by the shadow of the sari covering her modestly. Her face was covered with black sunglasses and she adorned her wrists with plain gold bangles, her neck laced with a simple gold chain.

She walked onto the steps leading to the stage in blood red heels as the entire celebrity section of the audience got a view of her back and tattoo. The lady was arresting to look at--all the way down from her aura to her body to her attire.

Y/N walked up to her daughter with arms opened, hugging the girl on stage with all the warmth that you would expect a mother to have for her child. A smile as radiant as a sunrise obliterated Y/N’s face as she spoke into the mike, “I am so proud to be here today to see my baby girl receive this award. She has worked so hard and all her efforts have come to fruition today. Thank you for allowing me to be on stage to celebrate this award with her”.

Both mother and daughter walked off the stage hand in hand as one of the MC’s for the award show started to walk up the stage. Collective gasps rang through the aisles as people saw who the next MC was. It was Saiyan. He had donned a simple Black Armani suit which highlighted just how devastating he looked. He took after Y/N more as he had slightly more defined cheekbones and huge eyes fringed with thick dark lashes to make any woman envious. He hulked onto stage, towering over his mom and sister at a height of 6′3. He laughed and hugged both of them, kissing his mom on the forehead,  and strolled to the mike to present the next award.

Jungkook’s eyes felt like they were about to pop out his head and his head was about to fall off his body. All three of them were on stage looking like such a happy family, radiant and warm. He could tell how much love his kids had for their mother . Y/N kissed Saiyan back on his cheek and walked off stage with Cha-ya in hand, giggling with her. These were all the people who he should've had in his life for years, held closest to his heart, but his poorly made decisions or lack thereof had distanced him from his own flesh and blood. 

Blinded by agitation and grief, Jungkook rushed out of the aisles, surprising his members as he absconded backstage to catch hold of Y/N and Cha-ya. But they weren’t alone. Cha-ya and Y/N were inundated by so many stage staff and artists who wanted to welcome them. His gut clenched as he saw all the men eyeing Y/N like she was the tastiest meal they had seen in centuries. He heard Y/N respond graciously to one staff member, “Oh, thank you for loving my outfit. It was designed by an upcoming Thai/Indian designer. She really went over the top with the gold motifs.” 

Jungkook couldn't stop himself as he pushed people, shoving past them trying to get to Y/N and his daughter. Staff around him were startled as they saw him wading through the crowd to the center of the room, whispering in shock at his pushy nature. As soon as he got in front of them, he was finally able to process the magnitude of Y/N’s beauty. Y/N was shocked for a mere a second at his sudden appearance and to his great surprise, kissed Cha ya on the cheek walking away from him as she told her, “Baby, mommy will be in your changing room. I have to take care of something”. Cha ya nodded at her mother, her eyes glazing over with a coat of suspicion and bitterness. She bowed stiffly towards Jungkook , “Sunbae, nice to meet you. It is an honor to meet you”. Her eyes took up a hard glint as she saw the rest of BTS filter into the room. She faced them and bowed to all of them, speaking in a lackadaisical tone “It is an honor to meet all of you. I have grown up watching all of you”. Her face did not show interest in engaging with them and she looked at them with a rather disinterested attitude. 

“Well I should get going. My mother is waiting for me”, she said as she glided seamlessly out of the room towards her dressing room. 

Jungkook felt tears well up in his eyes and anxiety stain his mind as he could see how cold his daughter was being towards him, as though he were a stranger. She had greeted him as though he was just any person on the street, as though they didn't share blood. As though he meant nothing to her. Jimin and Namjoon closed in around him, steering him towards a secluded corner of the room as he started sobbing miserably as though he were not able to breath. His eyes were red, tears flowing down his eyes, wetting his cheeks as he understood the gravity of what sin he had truly committed. 

He wiped frantically at his eyes, pushing away from his members as he ran towards Chaya’s changing room. He heard Yoongi scream beyond him, “Jungkook you better get back here! Don’t do this Jungkook, You need to calm down!!” Jungkook could not be reasoned with as he darted towards the room that a surprised staff had pointed at. He arrived in front of the door, barely catching his breath as he knocked in a hurried manner, desperate to speak with the most important people in his life that he had alienated. 

Chaya opened the door in a pink satin robe, leaning against the door with a sigh, “I knew you wouldn't be patient. I told mom it was a bad idea for her to fly out. She did anyway knowing that she would have to contend with you.” She sneered as she bit out in a crisp manner, “Well, why don’t you come in Jungkook -sshi? Or will you stay outside and make a circus of our reputation? Funny how you are obsessed with keeping yours, but have no problem blemishing others. You couldn't stay away, could you? You managed to for so many years, but now you fail at what you claim to be best at. Not caring. How juvenile”. She snarked all this at him vindictively as she simultaneously opened the door, gesturing for him to come into the room. 

The rest of the members stood outside as she sardonically queried, “Well, would you all grant us some privacy? I am sure we will have Jungkook-ssi out of the room soon enough. It shouldn't be a very long conservation. There isn't much to say anyway.” Yoongi’s eye twitched as he glared in silence at the rude girl who was literally the unexpected niece of all of the members. 

She closed the door on their faces.

Inside the room, Y/N sat on the couch surveying Jungkook’s appearance with mild interest. “Why are you here Jungkook? Do you need to say something?”, she calmly asked.  Y/N’s mind whirled in turmoil even as she looked calm on the outside. Why was he in front of them all these years when he himself had shunned her at her weakest moment? Jungkook was hyperventilating as he asked in a cracked voice, “I am not going to ask you the Stu-pid question of whether these kids are mine or not. Because I know that they are all the same age and I can see it in their faces and their mannerisms. They are mine”. He took a deep breath as he felt the panic overtake him, “But why did you never tell me about them? Why did you take me away from their lives. You know how much my mother and father wanted grandkids. Out of everybody in the world, you knew it the best. Why did you deprive me and my parents of them?” 

In an infuriatingly placating tone, Y/N responded without a hitch in her voice, “Don’t you remember? You didn’t want anything to do with me because I had apparently betrayed our friendship by being a characterless bitch and luring you into fucking me when you were drunk. Can you not make a quick trip down memory lane? Or has it been too long for you to remember the lurid media details that tore me apart? You may have forgotten but I never will”. 

She took a sip of tea as she tapped her nails on her lap, “You wouldn't hear me out when I told you that we had both accidentally gotten married when were drunk. Even though I knew that you never wanted anything to do with me romantically, you still initiated intercourse even as I clearly told you no. I begged you to let go of me. But in your blind livid anger of finding the marriage certificate lying on the couch later that night, you didn't do what most men do. You didn't do the practical thing, which is to rage and get over it. You didn’t tear the certificate and put an end to it there. You decided that I deserved to pay, and you fucked me even as I begged you to not ruin me. But, then again,  why are you asking me all the gruesome details, when you were the perpetrator?”

As Jungkook clutched his head, bending it down in dismay and shame, she quietly drawled, “We could've simply dissolved the marriage. It was not done seriously. It was done in a compulsion, as both of us were under the influence. Influence that you forced down my throat if we are being truly accurate. But, why did you have to ruin my life even when you were in a sober state? What excuse do you have for that? Other than your ridiculously misplaced anger? So you forced me when you were sober, making me pay in the most pitiful manner.”

 She laughed bitterly, eyes bereft of emotion, retreating behind a mask of forced complacency , “You knew, out of everyone else, since you were my friend at the time, that I had never even done it before. But you still treated me more pathetically than a piece of trash on the sidewalk. You degraded me as you violated me, taunting me with the most hurtful epithets known to man. You stripped me of my dignity. Don’t you remember jungkook? Don’t you remember any of it ? If you do, why are you forcing me to re-live it? I had kids, and I moved on from that pathetic, trusting, giving version of myself. You taught me that I must always pay the price for being kind. I will never forget it”. 

The torture was too much to bear. Jungkook crumpled off the sofa, onto the floor as he started sobbing, remembering what he had done to her. He remembered how he had hurt her again and again. They had been extremely close friends at the time, and he had ruined their friendship by crossing the line when both of them were drunk. At the time he had loved another girl, one who showed him how disgusting humanity could be. Y/N had warned him against her multiple times when they were friends , but he stupidly enough had stuck onto that girl, having a toxic relationship with her. 

When that girl had walked in on Y/N and him, finding the marriage certificate splayed out on the couch, she had broke up with him. In that frenzy of indignation, he had committed the vilest mistake of his entire life. He had forced Y/N, someone with no sexual experience, to suffer. He had degraded her verbally as he had humiliated and forced her. He remembered it as if it were yesterday. He remembered it everytime he looked at his reflection. When the violation was done, she had walked away pitifully, stumbling away from his form as she quietly uttered, “I am sorry for taking away your chance at happiness. You have punished me in a way I can never forget. I will never forget what you have taught me about our friendship. Now I know how much our friendship meant to you. Don’t worry, you will never hear from me again ”. 

As cum and blood had streamed down legs, she had dragged herself out of his house, to go back to her lonely hotel room where she sobbed and cursed at her mother for giving birth to her.  She cursed at god for her sheer existence. She would never trust again. He had damaged her forever. 

An hour after she left his house, Jungkook had understood his grievous mistake and told his Hyungs the sin he had committed. They all stared at him in shock as Yoongi started beating him, “Is THIS what we taught you Jungkook? To be a rapist and a miserable excuse of a human being?!” Everyone else stared at him in shock. Namjoon went to Bang PD to ask him to contact their lawyer. What if Y/N launched a lawsuit against Jungkook and the group? 

To all their collective surprise, they received news from Y/N’s friend Myrna, a foreign communications director at HYBE, that she had left for the U.S., going back to her home country. She had stopped at a hospital before leaving and handed Myrna an NDA drafted by a lawyer, before leaving, stating that she would not reveal anything that had gone down that day. The NDA also stated that she would like to never be contacted again, and that HYBE would face heavy legal repercussions if they ever attempted to do so. A divorce application form had been filled out and left in a pamphlet as well. All Jungkook had to do to nullify the marriage was to sign off on it”. 

Jungkook lived through his memories once again as Y/N smoothed down her dress, “If you would like to get to know the kids, I will not stop you. In fact, I had reached out to your company regarding the kids when they were born. But, I never heard back from them since. I even personally tried contacting you and your members, but none of you ever responded. Regardless, bygones will be bygones. The past is in the past. Cha-ya, Saiyan, and Arang have been brought up to be kind, forgiving individuals. They are not ruthless like their dad. Though they are angry, rightfully so as of now, they will come around and try to get to know you eventually.”

“Now, I will leave the room and allow you to talk to Cha-ya and Saiyan if that is what you wish to do. Arang will be arriving in five minutes”. 

As she got up to leave the room, she felt a firm vascular hand wrap around her wrist. She looked back to see Jungkook on his knees, head down, whimpering “I don’t wish to just know my kids. I wish to know the wife I never had”. 

Y/N reached to remove his hand off her wrist, “You must not understand what the true definition of the words ‘too little, too late’ mean”. 

TAGLIST:

@sporadicarcadebanana , @darkuni63, @jessicalynn85

[gladdygirl18]

Little Brother Cheer Up

This fic was requested by the amazing and incredible @starb4es! Thank you so much for requesting this; I had a blast writing it! Enjoy!

Summary: Hobie, Pavitr, and Miles have gotten very close, and the three teens have become brothers-in-arms. When Miles is feeling down in the dumps, the older teens know exactly how to turn his frown upside down.

Word Count: 1971

⚠️Warning⚠️: slight swearing

Miles, Pavitr, and Hobie. These three have grown very close throughout what's been going on. They were like brothers; they could rely on one another. When they're not swinging around saving their universe's cities, the three teens can be found having races around Brooklyn to see who's faster or bickering over what music is better. However, there is one thing that Hobie and Pavitr love doing that Miles hates: hazing Brooklyn's Spiderman.

Amongst these three, Miles is the youngest, making him the little brother of the group. Hobie and Pavitr love poking fun at the young Spiderman and hazing him; it's an unspoken rule amongst siblings, and the two older teens know it well.

"Hey, Miles! Don't forget your umbrella, or you might get washed away by the rain!" Pavitr teased one day.

"Hey, kid. Drink more milk; it'll make you big 'n' strong." Hobie said one day with a grin.

Miles didn't mind them teasing him or poking fun at him, but sometimes it can get a bit annoying. He appreciated Hobie and Pavitr's company, and with the tension between him and his parents, having his brothers to comfort and console him was more than he could ever ask for, and he was grateful to have them in his life. But damn, was their teasing flustering. Any tease, whether being called cute or a little joke, his cheeks always heat up, and Hobie and Pavitr find it so endearing. However, there is one form of hazing that Hobie and Pavitr love to use on Miles, but they only use it when the young teen is in a foul mood.

Like today, for example. It was a warm afternoon in Pavitr's dimension, and Miles was down in the dumps. Why? How the hell would I know? Anyone who asked if he was okay, Brooklyn's Spiderman responded with an, "I'm fine..." in a very monotone voice. Miles had come over to Pavitr's dimension to hang with him and Hobie to hopefully lighten his mood, but nothing worked. The young Spiderman sat on a windowsill, looking at beautiful Mumbattan. Inside was a concerned Pavitr and a confused Hobie.

"He's never like this, Hobs," Pavitr whispered, "What's up with him?"

"Askin' the wrong person, mate," Hobie deadpanned, glancing at Miles, "But, yeah, I gotta agree with ya; he's never like this."

Hobie's confused state was slowly turning into one of concern.

"Well, what can we do to help him?" Pavitr asked, determined to make Miles better again, "Seeing him like this... just doesn't sit right with me."

Hobie agreed with a silent nod. As a warm breeze came through the window, Pavitr got an idea.

"I know how to cheer him up!" Pavitr exclaimed.

He reached over and whispered his idea to Hobie, and the Spider Punk's grin grew sinister.

"I like the way you think," Hobie said, "Let's do it."

With a firm nod, the two older teens approached the sulking teen. Miles sighed before his spidey senses went off. He glanced behind him to see the other two coming over, only to look back at the Mumbattan cityscape.

"Hey, buddy," Pavitr began, "You doing okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine..." Miles said sadly.

Pavitr didn't believe him for a second. India's Spiderman sighed before sitting beside him on the window sill and wrapping an arm around the kid's shoulders.

"I know you, Miles," Pavitr said, "क्या गलत है, छोटे भाई?"

"What?" Miles questioned.

"He asked, 'What's wrong, little brother?'" Hobie deadpanned as he waltzed towards the duo.

Hobie leaned against the window sill on Miles' opposite side.

"Nothing is wrong, okay?" Miles questioned, "I'm fine, so can you guys please get off my back?"

The attitude in Miles' voice surprised Pavitr but impressed Hobie.

"So, the lil' spider does have some venom in his fangs," Hobie commented with a grin, "I salute that."

Not even a grin. Hobie called Miles that many times and it always made him smile and blush, but nothing happened.

"Aw, come on, spiderling!" Pavitr said, "Smile for us, please?"

Pavitr put on his best puppy-dog eyes and stared at Miles. Brooklyn's Spiderman didn't even glance at him. Now the other two were worried.

"Okay, you are definitely not Miles." Pavitr said suddenly.

"What are you talking about?" Miles questioned, finally glancing at India's Spiderman.

"I gotta agree with Pavi," Hobie said, straightening his posture, "The Miles I know can be a stubborn lil' shit sometimes, but never like this."

Miles groaned before shaking his head and turning back to the cityscape.

"You guys are ridiculous." Miles muttered.

The other two glanced at each other and shared a knowing look.

"Okay, that's it," Pavitr said, "We're getting our little brother back, no matter what."

"What are you on about now?" Miles asked, his voice laced with annoyance.

Before Miles could ask anything further, Hobie pulled the teen back by his shoulders and into his chest. Miles let out a surprised yelp as he struggled in Hobie's grip.

"What the hell, Hobie?" Miles asked, "Let me go!"

"Not a chance in hell, kid," Hobie said, "You've been the worst funk I've ever seen; more funky than stink on shit."

The joke made Pavitr laugh, but it made Miles more annoyed. When the two noticed this, the others grinned at each other before looking at their little brother. The grins on their faces made Miles nervous.

"W-Why are you guys grinning like that?" Miles asked.

"Because it's natural for us to do. Something you, mister, forgot about." Pavitr said, pointing at Miles.

"So, to help bring that smile back on your face..." Hobie said as his grip around Miles tightened.

The gears in Miles' head turned before he realized what they were about to do.

"Oh, no, you don't!" Miles panicked, "Let me go, damn it!"

"Feisty, are we?" Pavitr said, waltzing over to the squirming teen, "We can fix that, right, Hobie?"

"Right." Hobie agreed with a grin.

Before Miles could protest, Pavitr started skittering his fingers up and down Miles's sides, eliciting surprised giggles from Brooklyn's Spiderman. Remember that hazing technique that Hobie and Pavitr love to use on Miles? Yeah, this is it. Tickling Brooklyn's Spiderman has become a weekly thing between the three. Sure, Miles gets them back every once in a while, but all the attention is on him. And right now, Miles has Hobie and Pavitr's full, undivided attention.

"Pavihihihihihi! Nohohoho!" Miles giggled, "Stohohohop!"

"No way!" Pavitr claims, "You've been in such a bad mood almost all day; you need this!"

"Nohohoho, I-I dohohohon't!"

"I beg to differ, mate." Hobie said from behind.

Brooklyn's Spiderman struggled against the older teen's grip, but his giggling sapped him of his strength.

"Come ohohohoooon!" Miles whined, "This isn't fahahahahair!"

"It may not be fair, but it is needed," Pavitr said, "And we're not stopping until you tell us what's got you so down in the dumps."

"I told yohohohou! I'm fihihihihine!"

"That's what they all say." Hobie said.

Continuing to hold Miles, Hobie started to scratch his fingers in Miles' armpits, causing the teen to yelp and stomp his feet against the wooden floor.

"Hobihihihihihihie! Stahahahahap!" Miles cackled.

"Oh, please; you're not dying," Hobie deadpanned, "No need to be dramatic."

"I am dyihihihihihing!"

The older teens couldn't help but chuckle. When Pavitr moved his hands to Miles' belly, the teen's knees grew weak as his laughter brought him to the floor, but that didn't stop Hobie and Pavitr from following him down. Now Miles was sitting on the floor with Hobie restraining him and Pavitr tickling him. Brooklyn's Spiderman scraped his heels against the floor as he tried to find some way to escape.

"Plehehehehase! Leave me alohohohohone!" Miles giggled.

"Are you gonna tell us what's wrong?" Pavitr asked, leaning in close.

When Miles shook his head, India's Spiderman sighed before dropping his hands to Miles' hips, eliciting a squeal and a soft buck.

"That feheheheheels so weheheheheird!" Miles exclaimed.

"Yeah, it's called bein' ticklish, mate," Hobie said, stopping his tickling to tighten his grip, "So, are ya gonna tell us what's been biting your ass all day?"

"Nohohohoho! There's nothing to tehehehehell!"

Pavitr rolled his eyes before moving his hands up to tickle Miles' armpits. Miles' snorted before letting out a loud laugh.

"NOHOHOHO! NOT THEHEHEHERE!" Miles laughed, "STOP, STAHAHAHAHAP!"

"Are you gonna confide in us and tell us what's been eating you?" Pavitr inquired.

"NOHOHOHOHO!"

"There's that stubbornness," Hobie said with a smile, "Ya love to see it."

Miles was too busy laughing to hear anything the others were saying. However, Brooklyn's Spiderman suddenly felt that heaviness leave his heart. Whatever horrible feeling that was plaguing him was gone.

"COME OHOHOHON!" Miles laughed, "YOU AHAHAHAHSSHOHOHOLES! STAHAHAP IHIHIT!"

"What did you just call us?" Pavitr asked.

Without hesitation, India's Spiderman started vibrating his hands across the teen's ribs, sending the kid into a frenzy of laughter.

"NAHAHAHAAAA! NAAAHAHAAAT THEHEHEHERE!" Miles cried, thrashing in Hobie's grip, "SHIHIHIT! LET ME GOHOHOHO!"

"Well, someone's certainly spitting venom today," Hobie said, "I like that."

Miles slammed his legs against the floor in ticklish agony, throwing his head back against the Spider Punk's shoulder and laughing freely, all while trying to free himself from this.

"PLEHEHEHEHASE! LET MEHEHEHE GOHOHOHOO!" Miles laughed.

"Aww, and why would we do that?" Pavitr asked in a baby voice, "Does it tickle? Huh, does it tickle, tickle, tickle, little brother?"

Miles felt his cheeks heat up when Pavitr teased him.

"NOHOHOHO TEASIHIHIHIHIHING!" Miles cried, "THAHAHT'S NOT FAHAHAHAIR!"

"Sure it is," Hobie said, "Tickling and teasing go hand-in-hand like Bonnie and Clyde. Can't have one without the other."

Miles couldn't stop the snort that escaped, causing the other two to laugh along with him.

"That was so cute!" Pavitr swooned.

"NO, IT WAHAHAHAHASN'T!" Miles laughed, "PLEHEHEHASE! PAVIHIHIHIHI! STOHOHOP TICKLIHIHIHIHING MEHEHEHE!"

"Are you gonna tell us what's wrong?" Hobie asked.

Miles groaned through his laughter, but when Pavitr reached his top rib, Miles broke.

"FRIHIHIHIHIHIHICK! FINE, FIHIHIHIHIHIHINE!" Miles cried, "I'LL TALK, I'LL TAHAHAHAHAHALK! PLEASE JUST STAHAHAHAHAHAHAP!"

When the older teens nodded to one another, Pavitr removed his hands from Miles' body, leaving the young teen to slump against Hobie and pant. Though Hobie didn't release Mile's right away, Brooklyn's Spiderman felt the older teen's grip loosen. After catching his breath, he patted Hobie's arm, signaling him to release him. When Hobie did, Miles sat up and sighed as he glanced at the older teens.

"I honestly don't know what was wrong with me today," Miles said, "I guess I was just having an off day, y'know? Like, you just feel upset for no reason."

Pavitr and Hobie nodded in understanding.

"I get that," Pavitr said, "We all have off days; it's a natural thing, especially for us spider-people."

Hobie nodded in agreement. Miles breathed out a chuckle as he glanced between the other two.

"Thanks, guys," Miles said, "I really needed that."

Pavitr smiled before wrapping an arm around the younger teen.

"Anytime, little brother," Pavitr said, "We'll always be there for you!"

Hobie grinned as he ruffled Miles' hair.

"Yeah, kid," Hobie said, "If something is goin' on, tell us, or we'll be forced to use extreme measures."

Miles got the hint when a mischievous look crossed the Spider Punk's face.

"M-Message received." Miles said.

Pavitr grinned before standing up and walking over to the window.

"There's still some light left," Pavitr said, grabbing his mask, "Wanna go for a swing?"

The other two nodded before putting on their masks and vaulting out the window behind Pavitr, swinging around beautiful Mumbattan for the remainder of the afternoon. This was the Miles Morales that Pavitr and Hobie missed, smiling and laughing without a care in the world, with a hint of stubbornness and sassiness. After what happened, the older teens can confidently say that they got their little brother back.

[talonabraxas]

5 Shiva Mantras, Quotes, Hymns for Pleasing Shiva Lord Shiva is known as the Lord of Lords and even other Hindu Gods try to plead Lord Shiva with mantras. Lord Shiva is worshiped in two forms – The Shiva Lingam and the statue form.

All across India, and in many Hindu communities around the world, nightlong vigils are observed in honor of Lord Shiva. Devotees offer abhisheka, or a ritual bath, to bronze and stone sculptures of Lord Shiva in his many forms. Among the most popular of the forms that receive worship on this day are the Shiva Linga, Lord Dakshinamurthy, Lord Bhairava, and Lord Somaskanda.

Since Shiva is easily pleased, offering milk, water, leaves, flowers, clothes, fruits, or even an oil lamp is commendable. Simply meditating upon the form of Shiva with a pure mind and utmost devotion is considered the highest form of worship. The sage Adi Shankara wrote Shiva Manasa Puja as an affirmation of this notion. In this beautifully composed hymn, Shankara performs the Puja of Lord Shiva with vivid and devout imagination. Reciting this hymn on the night of Maha Shivarathri is the best way to begin or end the night’s festivities!

Here, let us see some of the mantras (and their meaning), used by great sages, as well as common people to get the blessings of the Lord.

[pearlean]

for @wrixie​​’s “jumping for juniper” bachelorette challenge

[ she/her | 26 | unlabeled ] glutton, self-assured, and loyal

india had always struck a chord with the city. born in the heart of san myshuno, india devotes her time as a social worker to serving people in need across the city.

> although india seems to have a blunt, easygoing, and high-spirited demeanor at first glance, she has always been guarded of her intimate and personal space.

> growing up, the concept of stability was foreign. india was however used to change and adjustment. throughout her childhood and teenage years india found herself in different homes and families. trust and letting others in was difficult, especially with lack of foundation. finding herself a reciever to many of the foster system’s shortcomings, india desired change.

> exploring the city will always hold appeal to india. whether it be as spontaneous as attending car races or simply meeting new faces, india will always set the scene for a fun time.

> one thing consistent about india is passion. she is driven by passion in her profession, driven by passion with her chosen family, but love? that’s yet to be fulfilled. india is no stranger to falling hard for strangers. more importantly, she has no problem pursing what she wants.

likes: mischief, streetwear, summer strut, green, wellness, playing violin, iced tea, hugs, swearing, & library trips

dislikes: writing, milk, waking up early, rainy days, dishonesty, preppy fashion, & social bunny

fun facts:

unironically uses motivational quotes in normal conversations

started journaling as an outlet to stop self narrating (LOL)

has a collection of glass bottle caps

download here

[imissthembutitwasntadisaster]

As the clock struck eleven, India turned to the mound of dishes and sighed.  Really, it wouldn’t take that long to clean up, but it was always her least favourite part of the job.  It would help if they had a larger kitchen, or even a larger house, as it was the bowls and pans always started spilling out onto the side tables in the hall before the sun even set in summer.  But the dead-watchers had always lived in this hut off the side of the cemetery, so she supposed there was no point in agitating. 

Once the graveyard had been full of caretakers.  There had been cemetery watchmen to ward off graverobbing, there had been ritual mourners, flower layers, gardeners.  But traditions often lose their importance, and only the most important survive.  Hence why India’s vigil might, centuries ago, have been a lively affair with friends winking lights out in the dark.  Now, instead, she worked alone, whisking, sifting, beating, measuring.  She took a swipe of batter from the pan to test it.  Not quite thin enough.  She added a dash of milk. 

Marnie, the eldest sister, was the caretaker of the bodies.  She washed them, tidied them, dressed and arranged them.  She made sure the dead were comfortable and the living as well.  It was Marnie who sat on their overstuffed sofa in the living room and held the hands of mourners, and it was Marnie who ventured furthest and most often into the village, sharing gentle words with everyone she passed.  The kitchen in Marnie’s hands was full of warm, hearty, lasting meals, things to bring to the mourning, casseroles and stews and chillis that would last for days in households that had no life in them to cook.  She had tried to copy India’s more esoteric creations, her pastry palaces and mounds of profiteroles, her towering meringues, but found them too fiddly. 

India, on the other hand, loved her most fiddly work, it took up time she liked to see taken up and there was a deep satisfaction to it, a calmness that descended as she balanced sugared flowers on top of towering woven strands.  She wondered now as she plunged her hands into the hot water how they managed to place things so delicately still even as callouses grew from the endless scrubbing at the end of the night. 

Jona, the middle sister, handled the affairs.  She rarely spoke to the living beyond getting them to sign, to choose, to take or hand over.  She had a head for numbers and a hand for penmanship, and very little of a tongue.  Still, she was respected in town at least, it wasn’t work anyone wanted to do but it was work that had to be done. 

Eleven forty.  Perfect timing.  India gave the counters one last wipe then began her finishing touches, taking the last few goods out of the oven or the cold box, arranging them on plates, turning them around and around until she found the best angle.  Last few garnishes and there, she was finished.  She hummed quietly to herself as she extinguished the lights and danced up the stairs, just ahead of the slow grey mist beginning to curl in under the door. 

No one was sure why India worked as she did.  No one was sure why there was a baker among the dead-watchers, why there had always been a baker among the dead-watchers, why the house was always, must always be filled with three.  A strange thing, they mumbled among themselves.  Still, her confections that Marnie sometimes sold were delicious, so they couldn’t complain.  Most people only caught glimpses of her during the day, early in the morning tidying up inexplicably empty plates, probably, they assumed, left overs from dinner the night before, or in the afternoon tying an apron around her waist, or in the in-between times when she just seemed to skip around the house, flashing here and there, hardly visible among her two more solid, meaningful sisters.  A strange third to keep indeed.  But there must have been a reason.  Only the most important traditions survive, after all.   

[ceofjohnlennon]

"Eventually I learned to distinguish the differences in temperament. John's granny glasses and pale skin, milk-white like the tigers in the Delhi zoo, suggested the persona of a studious intellectual, high-strung and enigmatic, carefully sifting the text of the Maharishi's wisdom for the grains of something that he could recognize as the truth. Like a lot of other people west of Suez, in Europe and America, he'd been expecting a guru to turn up, and suddenly, 'There he was in the Hilton hotel.' Yes, he said, it was great to be rich, great to be famous, but 'we're not the eternal rich men,' and money isn't what makes or sings the songs. One evening when Harrison said that 'nobody can be one hundred percent without the inner life,' Lennon told the other students at the table that the band's records served as diaries of its developing consciousness. In the photographs seen on the covers of their recent albums, he hoped and assumed that people might notice 'something going on behind the eyes other than guitar boogie.' He wasn't sure that the Maharishi was wiser than Lewis Carroll, but he knew that if a person could find within himself an inner wonderland impervious to the pressures of space and time, 'then nothing's going to shake my world.' Ringo and Paul didn't talk as much about the meditation. Yes, they had results with it. No, it wasn't a put-on, but their attitude implied that it was George's thing, and if he wanted to go to India, okay, fine, everybody went to India. Ringo missed his children and his nine cats, and he figured that he could assume the lotus position just as successfully in Liverpool. Maureen hated the flies — to the point that if there was only one fly in the room she would know exactly where it was, how it got there, and why it must be destroyed. She and Ringo had consulted the Maharishi on the subject, but the Maharishi told them that for people traveling in the realm of pure consciousness, flies no longer matter very much. 'Yes,' Ringo said, 'but that doesn't zap the flies, does it?' McCartney objected to the Maharishi's excessive adulation of the band and all its works ('the bit about being the sons of God and the saviors of mankind'), nor did he much care for the abstractions that sustained the yogi's grandiose metaphysics. 'I get a bit lost in the upper reaches of it,' he said. He also wished that the Maharishi would avoid talking to the Beatles about subjects that he, McCartney, knew something about. He found the Maharishi's support of the draft laws disillusioning; his girlfriend, Jane Asher, often wondered aloud what it would be like to see the moonlight on the Taj Mahal. Talking to Paul was easier than talking to George or to Ringo — his accent not as strong, more willing to exchange meaningless pleasantries, still fond of smoking cigarettes, his sense of humor affable and tolerant. When he showed up one day at lunch to say that he'd had a dream about being trapped in a leaking submarine of indeterminate color, it was Anneliese Braun who provided the interpretation. She clapped her hands in the enthusiastic way of a child seeing its first snowfall. 'How very nice,'x she said, wondering if McCartney appreciated the great truth with which he had been blessed. Paul smiled and said he didn't think he quite got all of it. 'Why it's the perfect meditation dream,' Anneliese said. The voyage in the submarine represented the descent into pure consciousness in the vehicle of the mantra; the leaks represented anxiety, and the surfacing of the submarine in a London street signified a happy return to society and one’s fellow men (like Ulysses coming back to Penelope), which was the purpose of all good meditation. The other people at the table applauded, and Geoffrey drew a comparison to the paintings of Hieronymous Bosch."

The Beatles in India. ㅡ From the book "With The Beatles" by Lewis Lapham.

[fatehbaz]

In the 19th century, British colonists faced several challenges in India, [...] [including] malaria. [...] The imperialists needed an answer to the problem and they found it in quinine. [...] [T]he British promptly embraced quinine, consuming tonnes of it every year by the mid-1800s. [...] Quinine was so bitter that soldiers and officials began mixing the powder with soda and sugar, unwittingly giving birth to “tonic water”. [...] [I]t prompted Winston Churchill to once proclaim, “The gin and tonic has saved more Englishmen’s lives, and minds, than all the doctors in the Empire.” [...] If by some good fortune malaria did not claim them, plague, cholera, dysentery, enteric fever, hepatitis or the unforgiving sun could. Preserving and protecting the body was [...] crucial to the success of the colonial project. As historian EM Collingham aptly summarised in her study, “The British experience of India was intensely physical.”

One way the colonists tried to deal with this challenge was through food and drinks. “The association between food and the maintenance of health was a concern of Anglo-Indian doctors, dieticians and the British authorities throughout the duration of colonial rule [...],” writes Sam Goodman in Unpalatable Truths: Food and Drink as Medicine in Colonial British India. [...]

---

The Medical Gazette, for instance, recommended treating dysentery with a “low diet” comprising thin chicken soup [...]. Botanist-physician George Watt too extolled the virtues of sago. In A Dictionary of the Economic Products of India (1893), he wrote that sago is “easily digestible and wholly destitute of irritating properties” and in demand [...]. For fever, weakness and sundry ailments, beef tea [...] was considered an ideal remedy. And for cholera, The Seamen’s New Medical Guide (1842) prescribed brandy during the worst of the sickness and half a tumbler of mulled wine with toasted bread and castor oil [...]. Ship masters and pantrymen would stock their vessels with foods with known medicinal benefits such as sago, arrowroot, lime juice, desiccated milk and condensed milk (the iconic Anglo Swiss Condensed Milk tins, later known as Milkmaid, enjoyed a permanent spot on British ships).

---

Businessmen too recognised the precarity of life abroad and realised that therein lay a perfect commercial opportunity. By the 19th century, numerous companies had cropped up across Europe, including in England, that would sell food in hermetically sealed tin containers.

One of these was Messrs Brand & Co. Recommended highly in Culinary Jottings for Madras by Colonel Robert Kenney-Herbert, Messrs Brand & Co had several offerings [...]: essence of beef, concentrated beef tea, beef tea jelly, meat lozenges, [...] potted meat, York and game pie, and A1 sauce [...]. Another company, John Moir & Sons, focused mostly on canned soups [...], selling oxtail, turtle, giblet and hare.

---

By the late 19th century such was the popularity of canned foods that rare would be the pantry in a colonial home that didn’t store them along with medical provisions like opium, quinine, chlorodyne and Fowler’s solution (an arsenic compound). [...] As Flora Steele and Grace Gardiner wrote in The Complete Indian Housekeeper and Cook, “A good mistress will remember the breadwinner requires blood-forming nourishment, and the children whose constitutions are being built up day by day, sickly or healthy, according to the food given them; and bear in mind the fact that in India, especially, half the comfort of life depends on clean, wholesome, digestible food.”

To assist the British woman in this ostensible duty, there were a number of cookbooks and housekeeping manuals [...]. The Englishwoman in India, for instance, published in 1864 under the pseudonym A Lady Resident, had a whole section with recipes for “infants and invalids”. These included carrot pap cooked into a congee with arrowroot [...] and toast water (well-toasted bread soaked in water). Steele and Gardiner too had a few recipe recommendations [...], including champagne jelly (“most useful in excessive vomiting”) and the dangerous-sounding Cannibal Broth (beef essence), which they said should be consumed with cream [...] to treat extreme debility and typhoid. [...]

---

One dish born of this encounter was the pish pash. The pish pash is considered an invention of the colonial cook, who adapted the kedgeree – the colonial cousin of khichdi – into a light nursery food. The famous Hobson-Jobson defined it as “a slop of rice soup with small pieces of meat” [...]. None other than Warren Hastings, the first governor-general of Bengal, gave confirmation of its efficacy when in 1784 he wrote to his wife from the sick bed [...]. There are enough records to show that the imperialists counted marh (starch water from cooked rice) and bael (wood apple) sherbet among their go-to remedies and benefited from the medicinal qualities of chiretta water and ajwain-infused water.

---

Text by: Priyadarshini Chatterjee. “How food came to the rescue of the British in India.” Scroll.in (Magazine format). 26 April 2023. [Bold emphasis and some paragraph breaks/contractions added by me.]