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Found this simply hilarious! So just had to share. You can read the full article @The Hindu.

TH21-EDIT-MODI_1726323f

Dear Shri. Mani Shankar Aiyar,

We know we need no introduction. And yet it may be useful to highlight some aspects of our reputation which you and others have been carelessly sullying in the run-up to the general elections. When Hillary and Tenzing scaled Mount Everest, imagine their chagrin when they found one of us had already set up shop there. When Neil Armstrong landed on the moon he almost forgot his lines “One small step for man, one giant leap for mankind”, because he ran into one of us, and that was not part of the script. That is how ubiquitous we are. It takes a lot of enterprise and hard work to be that.

It is, therefore, a matter of deep dismay and hurt, in fact a crisis of identity, for us when you and others like you mention Modi and us in the same breath, or mention the one and mean the other.

Let us make this very clear. Modi may or may not have what it takes to become the prime minister. But he certainly doesn’t have what it takes to be a tea seller –

A satire in the form of an open letter by Sashi Kumar, columnist and Chairman, Asian College of Journalism

 

 

Friends and well wishers staged this candle light vigil for slain journalist Lasantha Wickrematunge on Jan 9, 2014, at the very same spot in Attidiya, a suburb of Colombo, where he was shot dead. Five years after the high-profile assassination, Sri Lankan authorities are yet to bring the perpetrator/s to justice. AFP photo chief in Sri Lanka, Lakruwan Wanniarachchi, captured this image:

in memory

Lasantha Manilal Wickrematunge (1958 – 2009)

Rape culture!

(Re-blogged from the talented http://boudiccasrevenge.tumblr.com)

Rape culture

Rape culture

Rape culture is when I was six, and

my brother punched my two front teeth out.
Instead of reprimanding him, my mother
said “Stefanie, what did you do to provoke him?”
When my only defense was my
mother whispering in my ear, “Honey, ignore him.
Don’t rile him up. He just wants a reaction.”
As if it was my sole purpose, the reason
six-year-old me existed,
was to not rile up my brother.
It’s starts when we’re six, and ends
when we grow up assuming the natural state of a man
is a predator, and I must walk on eggshells, as to
not “rile him up.” Right, mom?

Rape culture is when through casual dinner conversation,
my father says that women who get raped are asking for it.
He says, “I see them on the streets of New York City,
with their short skirts and heavy makeup. Asking for it.”
When I used to be my father’s hero but
will he think I was asking for it? (will he think)
Will he think I deserved it?
Will he hold me accountable or will he hold me,
even though the touch of a man – especially my father’s –
burns as if I were holding the sun in the palm of my hand.

Rape culture is you were so ashamed, you thought it would
be easier for your parents to find you dead,
than to say, “Hey mom and dad,”
It wasn’t my fault. I didn’t ask for it.
I never asked for this attention, I never asked
to be a target, to be weak because I was born with
two X chromosomes, to walk in fear, to always look behind me,
in front of me, next to me, I never asked to be the prey.
I never wanted to spend my life being something
someone feasts upon, a meal for the eternally starved.
I do not want to hear about the way I taste anymore.
I will not let you eat me alive.

Rape culture is I shouldn’t defend my friend when
an overaggressive frat boy has his hand on her ass,
because standing up for her body “makes me a target.”
Women are afraid to speak up, because
they fear their own lives – but I’d rather take the hit
than live in a culture of silence.
I am told that I will always be the victim, pre-determined
by the DNA in my weaker, softer body.
I have birthing hips, not a fighter’s stance.
I am genetically pre-dispositioned to lose every time.

Rape culture is he was probably abused as a child.
When he even has some form of a justification
and all I have are the things that provoked him,
and the scars from his touch are woven of the darkest
and toughest strings, underneath the layer of my skin.
Rape culture leaves me finding pieces of him left inside of me.
A bone of his elbow. The cap of his knee.
There is something so daunting in the way that I know it will take
me years to methodically extract him from my body.
And that twinge I will get sometimes in my arm fifteen years later?
Proof of the past.
Like a tattoo I didn’t ask for.
Somehow I am permanently inked.

Rape culture is you can’t wear that outfit anymore
without feeling dirty, without feeling like
you somehow earned it.
You will feel like you are walking on knives,
every time you wear the shoes
you smashed his nose in with.
Imaginary blood on the bottom of your heels,
thinking, maybe this will heal me.
Those shoes are your freedom,
But the remains of a life long fight.
You will always carry your heart,
your passion, your absolute will to live,
but also the shame and the guilt and the pain.
I saved myself but I still feel like I’m walking on knives.

Rape culture is “Stefanie, you weren’t really raped, you were
one of the lucky ones.”
Because my body wasn’t penetrated by a penis,
but fingers instead, that I should feel lucky.
I should get on my hands and knees and say, thank you.
Thank you for being so kind.
Rape culture is “things could have been worse.”
“It’s been a month, Stefanie. Get out of bed.”
“You’ll have to get over this eventually.”
“Don’t let it ruin your life.”
Rape culture is he told you that after he touched you,
no one would ever want you again.
And you believed him.

Rape culture is telling your daughters not to get raped,
instead of teaching your sons how to treat all women.
That sex is not a right. You are not entitled to this.
The worst possible thing you can call a woman is a
slut, a whore, a bitch.
The worst possible thing you can call a man is a
bitch, a pussy, a girl.
The worst thing you can call a girl is a girl.
The worst thing you can call a guy is a girl.
Being a woman is the ultimate rejection,
the ultimate dismissal of strength and power, the
absolute insult.
When I have a daughter,
I will tell her that she is not
an insult.

When I have a daughter, she will know how to fight.
I will look at her like the sun when she comes home
with anger in her fists.
Because we are human beings and we do not
always have to take what we are given.
They all tell her not to fight fire with fire,
but that is only because they are afraid of her flames.
I will teach her the value of the word “no” so that
when she hears it, she will not question it.
My daughter,
Don’t you dare apologize for the fierce love
you have for yourself
and the lengths you go to preserve it.

My daughter,
I am alive because of the fierce love I have
for myself, and because my father taught me
to protect that.
He taught me that sometimes, I have to do
my own bit of saving, pick myself off the
ground and wipe the dirt off my face,
because at the end of the day,
there is only me.
I am alive because my mother taught me
to love myself.
She taught me that I am an enigma – a
mystery, a paradox, an unfinished masterpiece and
I must love myself enough to see how I turn out.
I am alive because even beaten, voiceless, and back
against the wall, I knew there was an ounce of me
worth fighting for.
And for that, I thank my parents.

Instead of teaching my daughter to cover herself up,
I will show her how to be exposed.
Because no is not “convince me”.
No is not “I want it”.
You call me,
“Little lady, pretty girl, beautiful woman.”
But I am not any of these things for you.
I am exploding light,
my daughter will be exploding light,
and you,
better cover your eyes.

nmodi1

We at the Mad Hatter Times are proud to announce to the world that PM-candidate Mr Narendra Modi has decided to don sheep’s clothing. After a Gujarat court upheld a clean chit given to him for his involvement in the Gujarat riots of 11 years ago, Mr Modi decided to strengthen his candidature for the general elections in May – by revealing a new-found love for his Muslim brethren.

In a blog post, that an editor has described as a “brilliant example of creative wrting by a highly imaginative mind,” Mr Modi says “As if all the suffering was not enough, I was also accused of the death and misery of my own loved ones, my Gujarati brothers and sisters. Can you imagine the inner turmoil and shock of being blamed for the very events that have shattered you!”

 Modi 2002What brother, should we run relief camps? (referring to relief camps for riot affected Muslims). Should I start children producing centers there, i.e relief camps? We are 5 and our 25 !!! (Ame panch, Amara panch, referring the Muslim polygamy

Modi 2012:  I went everywhere and investigated. There used to be PILs [public interest litigation] in the Gujarat High Court very often those days. And some judgements say that the best facilities were provided to the refugees

Modi 2002:  Cant Gujarat implement family planning? Whose inhibitions are coming in our way? Which religious sect is coming in the way? Why money is not reaching to the poor? If some people go on producing children, the children will do cycle puncture repair only?

Modi 2013:  On one side was the pain of the victims of the earthquake, and on the other the pain of the victims of the riots. In decisively confronting this great turmoil, I had to single-mindedly focus all the strength given to me by the almighty, on the task of peace, justice and rehabilitation; burying the pain and agony I was personally wracked with.

Modi 2002:  Every child born in Gujarat should get education, enlightenment, livelihood and the economic order should be built up accordingly. For this purpose, there is a need for teaching a lesson to those people, who are expanding their population

Modi 2013:  I had appealed to the people of Gujarat on the day of the Godhra train burning itself; fervently urging for peace and restraint to ensure lives of innocents were not put at risk.

Modi 2002: We cannot permit merchants of murder freely operate in Gujarat.

Modi 2013: “In fact, my emphasis has always been on developing and emphasizing a spirit of unity; with the now widely used concept of ‘my 5 crore Gujarati brothers and sisters’ having crystallised right at the beginning of my tenure as CM itself from this very space”

 

 

 

 

Who tore up the bedsheets?
Who tore up the bedsheets?
I swear it wasn't me!
I swear it wasn’t me!
Ha! Maximus caught in the act!
Ha! Maximus caught in the act!

I was really excited to find the original source for Rhett Butler’s farwell off-to-the-wars speech to Scarlett at the Gone with the Wind Scrapbook Blog

“‘I could not love thee, Dear, so much, loved I not Honour more.’ That’s a pat speech, isn’t it? Certainly better than anything I can think up myself, at the present moment. For I do love you, Scarlett, in spite of what I said that night on the porch last month.”
Gone with the Wind, Chapter XXIII
Rhett-Butler-Scarlett-O-Hara
Original source:
Tell me not, Sweet, I am unkind,
That from the nunnery
Of thy chaste breasts, and quiet mind,
To war and arms I fly.

True, a new mistress now I chase,
The first foe in the field;
And with a stronger faith embrace
A sword, a horse, a shield.

Yet this inconstancy is such,
As you too shall adore;
I could not love thee, Dear, so much,
Loved I not honour more.

       –To Lucasta, Going to the Wars

Ernest Hemingway claimed the most essential talent for a good writer was simply a “built-in, shockproof shit detector.”

“Great authorship is all about truth. To write the stories of our lives as honestly as possible, we must thoroughly reject crap. This is especially useful when cruelty masquerades as kindness. Some of the most merciless behavior ever perpetrated looks very nice. The sweeter a lie sounds, the meaner it really is”

“Honey, people are whispering about your weight.” “Stop talking back, or you’ll lose that husband of yours.” “Oh, sweetheart, that’s way too big a dream for you.” Statements like these may be well-intentioned feedback—or spite. The difference is that honesty, even the tough stuff, makes you feel clearer and stronger, while meanness leaves you mired in shame, despair, and frailty.

Excerpts from – Why mean people are mean
Didn’t read anything truer!

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