First contact

Mel has met a person on the internet who claims to be from the planet Hagfar orbiting Centaurus Lambda in the Carina-Sagittarius arm of the Milky Way galaxy. She’s been chatting with him for a while, and he is tired of trying to convince her of his alien-ness. Finally, she decides to stop bothering about it, because even if he’s trying to prank her, he’s a nice person to talk to, as she’s learnt in the last twenty minutes. 

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How to be funny: A helpful guide ft. Wrinkles, aka My Brain

No, Wrin dear, I am not changing it to ‘just My Brain’. And no, the title’s not too long.

Well, hello there. Three days ago, it was C&C Fac’s 3rd anniversary, and even though my 12th board exams are literally starting in 17 days (yes, I counted), I’ve come out of this blogging exile just for this anniversary post, which is basically the only tradition over here.

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This Thunberg-bashing needs to stop

Every time I think a new threshold for stupidity has been set and people couldn’t possibly go beyond that, they do. Always. Without fail.

This time, it’s trolling a 16-year-old girl who’s campaigning against climate change and trying to save the planet.

I am, of course, talking about none other than the braided messiah of climate activists- Greta Thunberg.

So lately, I’ve read a couple of newspaper columns, exclusively by bitter old Indian men, whose sole aim is to bash Greta Thunberg. They say that she is just an immature schoolgirl who knows nothing of world politics whatsoever and her passionate UN speech was a typical juvenile outburst which was aimed at nothing but garnering attention. They say that being white and privileged, and from a first-world country whose per capita carbon emissions stand at a whopping 4.5 metric tons, she has no right to take away the opportunity to a better life for ‘our children’; namely, children in third world countries like India.

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Mahogany-Brown

Mahogany-brown, heaven-sent,

My love

A sublime work of art

Perfect, so perfect.

 

Cloaked in black, like the night

My love, mahogany-brown

Every curve fitting in mine

The piece which completes my puzzle.

 

We don’t need violins and pianos,

My love, mahogany-brown

Symphonies play in our embraces,

And in the brushes of our fingertips.

 

Hollow inside but full, so full,

My love’s mahogany-brown

Richness flows into my soul,

Cathartic, lifting me from the world.

 

And even when my fingers are callused,

My love’s mahogany-brown

Smoothness will never roughen

Because immense purity is untouchable.

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