Fiery River

There comes a day when the pressure

Fails to be contained

When the volcano explodes

And hot lava

Flows down the hillside.

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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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Killing the Creator (part 20)

Click here to read the previous parts.

“She knows, Al.”

I closed the door of the motel room behind me. Al was sitting cross-legged on his bed with his eyes closed and his brow slightly furrowed. He looked like he was meditating, but I knew better. He was going through the pictures in his iris-cam.

He opened his eyes to look straight at me. “What?”

“She knows.”

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Bored in tuition class- A Conversation with my brain

Scene: 7 p.m., my room, time for my Physics tuition and my Physics/Chemistry tutor is making notes of Magnetic Effects of Electric Current in my register. A little context here- he makes notes of a particular topic and then explains it to me. He’s also a Reiki healer, an astrologer, a numerologist and a tarot reader. Science+Pseudoscience= What the hell. 

My Brain: Why doesn’t he hurry up? It’s been a minute already. I’m bored.

Me: I know. Me too. *Drums fingers on table*

My Brain: You should stop doing that. It’s rude and obnoxious, not to mention monotonous.

Me: Maybe I should drum the Doctor Who theme, then. Much more entertaining.

My Brain: You know what else would be entertaining? Telling him what a load of bullcrap his astrology is.

Me: Because that’s not rude and obnoxious.

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The good, the bad and the ugly

The Good: The deadline for The Raw Poetry Contest has been extended! Yes, people, you now have till 21st June 11:59 P.M. Indian Standard Time to submit your entries. Do not let this chance go unused- if you wanted to participate but couldn’t because of lack of time, here’s a bonus week for you. So, spam me with your poems.

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Killing the Creator (part 19)

Click here to read the previous parts.

Reminder: If you haven’t yet, submit your entry for The Raw Poetry Contest. The deadline’s 14th June 11:59 P.M. IST, so hurry.

It’d been a week since Al almost died. He was back to normal now and seeing how much he’d missed out on the ‘fun’ activity of researching in my absence, I’d convinced him to look up more about the midnight man at the cyber cafe, while I went to play with the girl we’d tried to kill. Correction: were trying to kill.

But the Creator wasn’t playing today. Pragya had gone to visit a relative with her parents, and that left her just me to play with.

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