@one_by_two The CC company is incorrect. The vendor cannot decide your tax treatments. You can free to decide your tax positions. Whether the GST input is claimable or not is a matter between you and the GST Department. CC company has no locus to adjudicate that for you.
Behta hai paani behne de
Waqt ko yunhi rehne de
Dariya ne karwat li hai toh
Saahilon ko sehne de
Sau hasratein par tera gham nahi
thanha thanha
thanha hai thanha hai
Thanha chal thanha chal
thanha, thanha
sau dard hain
sau raahatein
Artemis II astronauts have traveled 252,756 miles from Earth, flown around the Moon, and observed the lunar surface like never before. Now, they’re coming home. 🌎
Watch the crew splash down on Friday, April 10, around 8:07pm ET (0007 UTC April 11). https://t.co/Ccsk5Z3HFS
The Civil Aviation Ministry should issue a directive that if a passenger refuses to turn off the volume of his/her phone or personal device or to use EarPods/ headphones in an aircraft when requested by the crew they should end up on the no-fly list for three months
Yesterday my request to upgrade to Business was denied stating “no seats available”. I enter the aircraft and observe 6 seats of 8 are empty. Whats d logic @airindia ? Whats the point of being a Gold Member and accumulating points if it cant be used on empty flights ? #AI2856
On the night of May 20, 2025, a little girl in a faded pink frock fell asleep on her mother’s lap at Chhatrapati Shivaji Maharaj Terminus. Her parents, simple people from Solapur, had come to Mumbai for her father’s treatment. They were exhausted. Just for a moment, the mother closed her eyes.
When she opened them, her daughter was gone.
Six months.
Six months of walking from police station to police station.
Six months of showing the same crumpled photograph to strangers on trains, in slums, in orphanages.
Six months of the father not sleeping, the mother not eating, both of them growing hollow-eyed, whispering the same name into the dark: “Aarohi… Aarohi…”
In Varanasi, a thousand kilometres away, a tiny girl with no memory of her real name was learning to call herself “Kashi.” She had been found crying near the railway tracks in June, barefoot and terrified. The orphanage gave her food, a bed, and a new name. She smiled easily, because children always do, but sometimes at night she clutched the edge of her blanket and asked for “Aai” — Marathi for mother — and no one understood.
Back in Mumbai, the police refused to close the file. They printed posters with Aarohi’s face, stuck them on every platform from Lokmanya Tilak Terminus to Bhusawal to Varanasi Cantt. They ran newspaper ads, knocked on doors, begged journalists for help. Six months is a long time for hope to stay alive, but some officers carried her photograph in their shirt pockets like it was their own child.
Then, on November 13, a local reporter in Varanasi saw the poster. Something clicked. He had seen a girl who spoke Marathi words in her sleep. He made a phone call.
The next morning, a Mumbai Police inspector sat in front of a laptop in Varanasi and opened a video call. On the screen appeared a little girl in a pink frock — the same colour she was wearing the day she vanished. The mother, standing behind the officer in Mumbai, saw her daughter and collapsed without a sound. The father just kept repeating, “That’s my Aarohi… that’s my baby…”
They flew her back on Children’s Day — November 14.
When the plane landed, the entire Mumbai Crime Branch was waiting. They had bought her balloons and a new frock, sky blue this time. But the moment the little girl stepped out and saw the sea of khaki uniforms, she did something no one expected.
She ran.
Not away — toward them.
Tiny legs pumping, arms outstretched, she threw herself at the nearest officer and laughed — the purest, clearest laugh that had been missing from the world for half a year. The officer, a tough man who had seen everything, felt his eyes burn. He lifted her high, and she wrapped her arms around his neck like he was family.
Her parents were crying too hard to walk. So the policemen carried their daughter to them.
The mother touched her face again and again, as if checking she was real. The father fell to his knees and pressed his forehead to his child’s tiny feet, sobbing words no one could understand except God.
And the little girl? She just kept smiling, looking from her parents to the officers and back again, completely unaware that she had turned an entire police station into a sobbing, laughing, praying family.
Six months of darkness ended in one hug.
Aarohi is home now.
The kidnapper is still out there, but that is tomorrow’s fight.
Today, a mother is singing lullabies again.
Today, a father is smiling in his sleep.
And somewhere in Mumbai, there are policemen who will never forget the weight of a four-year-old girl in their arms — the weight of an entire life returned.
Sometimes the uniform doesn’t just catch thieves.
Sometimes it carries lost children all the way back to their mothers’ hearts.
The event (first pic, a section of the audience) was preceded and followed by informal discussions with the organisers, the latter over lunch. And it’s always a pleasure to sign books for readers !
No hope left with @airindia
Redeemed my voucher for upgrade at night, got a confirmation and then in morning at the check-in she say’s there is no such record in the system. Only @airindia can pull this off #AI909#Hysterical
@RahulBose1 Imagine happening this at 12 at midnight that too after the flight was delayed by more than an hour. Happened with me a couple of weeks ago !
Bad Crew - Good Planes
Good Crew - Bad Planes
On Time - Delayed Baggage
Delayed - On time Baggage
Today - Good Planes, Average Crew, No Ground staff 🤯
There is an equilibrium to @airindia